Morgana decides to turn the tables on Arthur one night and show him who's really in charge.
Warnings: bondage, whipping
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters...just borrowing them for a little fun.
A/N: This is pretty kinky, so if that's not your thing, don't read it. I was working on a longer story with an actual plot and needed a break from it for a bit. This was the result. Uh, enjoy? ;)
He's positioned above her. His strong arms pin her wrists to the bed and his thighs trap her hips beneath him. He can feel her struggle against his hold, but he knows it's not in earnest. He responds by tightening his hold on her wrists, forcefully pulling them higher above her head and pushing them into the mattress.
"What'll it be tonight, my Lady?" he whispers seductively.
She raises her eyebrow and he knows exactly what she craves.
In an instant, he has her flipped over and is holding her wrists together against her back. He's now binding her wrists with a long, thin cord.
She lets him. She likes the thrill of relinquishing all control to him and being completely at his mercy. The feeling will be short-lived though, as she has plans of her own tonight.
When he's finished with her wrists, he moves farther up her arms, tightly wrapping the rope around her forearms and upper arms. He is rough with her, tying as far up as her flexibility will allow and leaving no give in the ropes. At the same time, he is careful not to catch any of her dark, lustrous hair in the bindings.
He pushes her onto her back again, trapping her bound arms underneath her. Her eyes are gleaming as she pretends to writhe against the bindings.
Her undergarments are violently ripped from her body and her light dress pushed up and out of the way. He grabs her thighs and forces them apart, inserting a knee in between them.
His hands cup her face as he smiles, closing his eyes and bending over to lower his lips onto hers.
Suddenly, there is a dagger at his throat. Arthur freezes.
Morgana has cut the ropes binding her arms with the dagger hidden in her corset. She likes the shock on his face at the unexpected twist in the game. In mere moments, the power has shifted.
"Do you surrender?" Morgana asks in a mock threatening tone.
He doesn't answer her. Instead, he glares at her defiantly.
Keeping the dagger at his throat, she guides him up from the bed to stand by a pillar in the center of the room and turns him around so his back is facing her.
Lightly pressing the tip of the dagger into Arthur's back, Morgana commands him to raise his arms. She takes a pair of shackles and winds them through a ring high up on the pillar before locking his wrists in them.
Morgana watches as Arthur glances up at his wrists and tests the shackles, struggling ineffectively against the chains holding him in place. The muscles in his arms bulge from the effort.
Sighing, he asks, "Okay Morgana, what have you got up your sleeve?"
She grins coyly and responds, "It's time for us to see who really holds the power in this relationship."
Arthur laughs. "I am the prince of Camelot...the future king. It's fairly obvious who holds the power between us."
With that, she uses the dagger to cut his shirt down the middle and rips it from his body, leaving his pale, smooth skin exposed. Forcefully pulling his trousers down and off, she leaves him completely naked before her.
Arthur shivers from the sudden exposure and chills run down his spine at the thought of what she has planned. They've played games like this before, but never have they left the comfort of a bed. He eagerly awaits her next move.
Morgana walks away from him and across the room to a nightstand. He can hear her fumbling with some things in the drawer. He grins in anticipation.
She finally walks back to him and he hears a clatter as she drops her acquisitions onto the floor by his feet. He tries to twist his head sideways to peek behind him, but is not flexible enough.
She grabs his left ankle and fits a shackle around it. It's a tight fit and she accidentally pinches his skin when she snaps it shut, eliciting a small yelp from him, as he involuntarily jerks his leg in response.
Moving over to his right ankle, she fastens a similar shackle to it, this time being careful not to pinch his skin in the process.
Morgana then walks over to the end of the bed. Arthur feels her pull on a chain that is attached to the shackle on his left ankle, forcing his body to bend towards her at an awkward angle. She loops the chain around the bed post and locks it in place. After walking past him, she pulls on a similar chain attached to his right ankle, locking this one to another pillar on the other side of the room.
The result is instantaneous. Arthur's legs are pulled wide apart, forcing his whole body to shift downwards. This causes all of his weight to fall on his shackled wrists. He tries in vain to regain his footing, but the chains holding his legs spread apart won't budge.
"Comfortable?" she asks, clearly pleased with her handiwork.
"No," he grunts, shifting his wrists slightly. He only succeeds in causing further discomfort, as the shackles painfully dig into his skin. "Morgana, what are you do-"
"Good," she says abruptly, cutting off his sentence. She has him just where she wants him.
Morgana walks to Arthur's side so he can see the leather straps in her hands out of the corner of his eye. One is almost two feet long and the other is much shorter with several knots tied in the middle.
"In case you...lose control, we don't want the guards alerted," she explains.
She looks into his face seriously, giving him one last opportunity to back out. He knows what the longer strap is used for. Arthur takes in a deep breath and nods, giving her the okay to proceed with the game.
"So be it," Morgana pronounces, walking behind him and pushing the knotted leather strap into his mouth. She ties it securely behind his head, silencing him.
Arthur can't remember if she's ever gagged him during their games before, but if she thinks he could lose control and yell out loud enough to alert the guards, it was an understandable precaution. He prepares himself for what is sure to be an intense, yet highly pleasurable experience. He feels himself hardening at the thought of what's to come.
Morgana stands behind him holding the long strip of leather. The material is rough, but not designed to break the skin. She glances up at Arthur hanging from the shackles. His back is smooth, almost glowing angelically in the candlelight. Through great effort, he has managed to touch the floor with his toes, removing a small portion of his weight from his chained wrists. Despite this adjustment, she can see the muscles in his upper back and arms still bulging from the strain.
Without further ado, Morgana brings the strap down sharply on his lower back. Arthur's body bends away from the impact and he bites down on the hard leather gag, suppressing the urge to let out a pained yelp.
Before he fully recovers, fire erupts on his back again, this time harder. He grunts, clenching his eyes shut and trying unsuccessfully to regain his footing.
A third strike lands harshly on his back, this time eliciting a loud moan from him as it stings the skin on his shoulder blades.
Morgana cracks the whip over his skin again and again, first focusing on his back before moving down to his buttocks and upper thighs. With each hit, Arthur's muscles clench and then relax. He is no longer trying to find his balance, his full weight hanging from the ring high up on the pillar.
Arthur slowly begins to find himself bending outwards to greet the kiss of the whip. His body aches with desire for the sweet pain that comes with the crack and then the red hot fire that follows, caressing his throbbing body.
Because his legs are spread wide apart, the leather strap follows the curve of his thighs to kiss his most tender spots when she whips him below the buttocks. He whimpers when she focuses on a particularly sensitive spot, leaving his skin red and tender.
The relentless sting of the whip has Arthur hardened and breathing heavily in arousal. Sweat trickles from his forehead and down his face.
She caresses every inch of his body with the whip, leaving the skin red and angry, but never breaking it. Morgana revels in the feeling of power that comes from wielding the strip of leather. Seeing the usually prideful, arrogant prince hanging from chains and whipped mercilessly is a stirring image to her. However, she knows he is enjoying it just as much as she is, as his body clearly betrays his level of arousal.
"What would your knights think if they saw you now?" she suddenly asks. "Chained up and whipped in your own chambers. By a woman no less," she mocks. She reaches her head up and nibbles on his moistened bottom lip seductively. "And enjoying it," she adds, stealing a glance between his legs.
She then taunts, "The crowned prince of Camelot, completely at my mercy. I could alert them right now..."
Arthur makes a panicked sound, but it's muffled by the gag.
They both know that she would never alert the guards. Only Morgana is allowed to see Arthur in such a vulnerable, raw state. However, the threat alone is enough to make him squirm.
"What was that?" she asks. "You finally see the truth, don't you? I hold rule over you, Arthur."
Despite the vulnerability of his position, he shakes his head in refusal. He is too proud to admit defeat without more of a fight. Morgana takes in a deep breath, indicating her dissatisfaction at his insubordination.
She resumes distributing the lashes evenly over his back. After a few more minutes of this, she focuses her attention on his upper thighs again. Breaking through Arthur's stubborn demeanour sometimes called for quite a lot of persistence.
He pants heavily and the skin on his thighs burns from the sting of the whip. When she doesn't let up or move the assault to another part of his body, he tries to move his legs, ineffectively tugging on the chains locking them in place. The once arousing pain focused on one spot like this quickly becomes unpleasantly painful. He moans around the gag, unable to get away from the relentless shower of thrashes.
Increasing the force of the lashes, she watches as the muscles in his face clench in extreme discomfort. The increased force finally has him yelling out, but the noise is muffled by the gag. She doesn't let up, pushing him farther into oblivion. She wants to take him to the edge.
He gasps for air and desperately struggles against the chains. The pain is becoming unbearable. He tries to yell for her to stop and convey to her that he doesn't want to play anymore, but the gag muffles his attempts. Tears trickle from his eyes and down his cheeks, joining the sweat that is already lacing his face. He is no longer aroused and has a moment of raw fear that she truly intends to cause him harm.
When she sees him finally go limp, she ceases the assault. Dropping the leather strap, she rushes over to cup his face in her hands, worried for a second that she may have taken it too far.
To her relief, Arthur's eyes flutter open. He is battered and shaken, but not severely injured. Only his wrists are bleeding from all of the writhing in the shackles. The skin on his back and upper thighs is red and angry, but not broken.
Morgana unties the gag and pulls the hard knot of leather out of his mouth, allowing him to stretch the sore muscles of his jaw. She then bends down to unshackle his ankles. When his legs are free, he weakly fumbles to stand upright to remove the strain from his arms.
Morgana reaches up and frees Arthur's wrists from the shackles holding him suspended from the ring on the pillar. His legs are too weak to support the full weight of his body and he crumples downwards.
She catches him and lets him lean awkwardly into her as she guides him back to the bed and helps him onto it. Once he is laid down on his stomach, she forcefully grabs his arms and pulls them behind his back, surprising him yet again. She closes a tight manacle over each of his wrists. The chain locking them together is only about an inch long, leaving him little room for movement.
She turns him over, so he is facing her again, trapping his arms underneath him. She then quickly shackles his legs to the end of the bed, chaining them so they are spread widely. Crawling over his still panting and sweaty frame, she smiles and positions herself on top of his restrained body. She is straddling his hips between her strong thighs.
Arthur lies beneath her, exhausted and breathing heavily. His throbbing body is too weak to struggle against the manacles locking his arms behind his back or the chains holding his legs wide apart and unable to move. Finally, he relaxes into the restraints, letting go of the raw fear from moments earlier. Morgana would take him to the edge, but he was sure now that she would never seriously injure him.
Even if he did have the strength to free himself from his current position, he didn't think he would. There was nowhere he'd rather be.
In Morgana's hand is a round piece of gold, resembling a crown. Only it's not a crown, but a collar with a short chain attached to it.
"Now I'm going to ask you again, Arthur. Do you surrender?" she asks, eyes glittering, for the second time that night.
Without a moment of hesitation, he nods his head vigorously, giving in to her at last.
Grinning in victory, she unclasps the collar and closes it around his neck. It's a perfect fit. She locks the short chain to the bedpost to keep him from moving from his position on the bed.
Morgana lies down beside Arthur so that her body is parallel to his. She trails her fingers seductively all over his chest and upper body. Bending over, she presses her lips to his and kisses him passionately and without reserve.
He smiles and lets out a soft moan of pleasure as she leaves a trail of kisses down his chest, leading to his most tender area. Finally, she reaches her destination and begins to give him his reward.