"My Lord?" you ask, stepping into the room. "You wished to see me?"
He sits upon his throne, a smirk playing on his lips as he stares down at you. He can sense your nervousness, which only makes him happier. He loves it when you silly servant girls are afraid of him. You were made to be ruled, just like those foolish Midgardians.
"Is that any way to properly greet your king?" he asks, eyes narrowing. He makes a tsk sound and stands, watching you intently as your cheeks turn pink with embarrassment. "Get on your knees. Now."
You kneel slowly before him, eyes downcast. He takes a step towards you, a throaty laugh echoing round the room. "That's more like it."
You can sense him approaching, coming closer to your shaking form. You try to control your fear, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing he terrifies you. You've heard rumors about the things he likes to do, and you can only imagine what he has planned for you this evening.
Looking up through your lashes, you see him standing before you, chest bare; the only thing he has on is a pair of leather pants. You can feel his eyes boring into you and it makes you shiver. He laughs again, amused by this. He knows exactly what he does to the servant girls he uses for his own pleasure; it's the only thing that really entertains him anymore. As much as you hate to admit it, you find yourself strangely attracted to him, as well. Sure, fear is the stronger emotion, but there's also that hint of arousal that sneaks up on you and makes you feel betrayed by your own mind and body.
"Such a fine, young woman," he murmurs, circling around you. "It's a shame I'm going to break you."
Your heart stops at the sound of those words. Before you can even think about what you are doing, you raise your head and stare at him like a frightened deer in headlights.
Another tsk sound tumbles from his lips and he grabs a fistful of your hair roughly. You yelp, more from surprise than pain.
"Did I say you could look at me?" he growls, not expecting an answer. "You do what I tell you, and only when I tell you to do it. Understand?"
You whimper and manage to nod your head, tears springing into your eyes. Satisfied, he releases the grip he has on your hair. You let out a quiet sob, frustrated by the fact that you are crying and turned on at the same time. What is wrong with you?
"On your feet," he commands, his voice like velvet.
You oblige, getting shakily to your feet. Your eyes stay down, afraid to look at him now. You know, or at least you hope, from what you've heard, that he never actually abuses the servant girls. He only brings pleasurable pain. But even the thought of that makes your knees feel weak.
You're not exactly good with pain.
"Look at me," he says, his hand wrapping around your arm, pulling you closer to him. He places his other hand under your chin, holding your gaze when your eyes finally meet his. He has the most intense eyes you have ever seen. They're an odd shade of blue green, but they hold you captive, mesmerizing you.
He smirks; it's almost like he's looking into your soul. Or, at the very least, your mind. And what he sees there, he seems to approve of. You want to pull away, but that will only serve to anger him. That's definitely not something you want to deal with; the wrath of a god is frightening. You refuse to acknowledge the fact, but deep down inside, you want him. You want him bad.
After what seems like an eternity, he lets go of your chin and releases you from his gaze. You let out the breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding, relieved that he is no longer staring at you, but worried about what's to come next.
His cheek brushes against yours as his grip on your arm tightens; his lips move to your ear, whispering, "When I am done with you, you won't even remember your own name."
He chuckles, the sound sending a shiver through your body. He nips your earlobe, then pulls away, leaving you feeling an odd mixture of arousal and frustration.
Tugging on your arm, he begins walking; you stumble along behind him, knowing you're heading for his bedroom or wherever it is he sleeps and does the naughty things the other servant girls whisper about.
When you enter the room, your eyes widen, taking in your new surroundings. There is a huge bed covered in green and gold against the far wall. You catch a glimpse of what looks to be a riding crop lying on top of the blankets that adorn the bed. Before you can see what other strange things he has in his room, the door shuts and the lock clicks into place. He is still holding onto your arm, grinning at you now as he pulls you over to the bed.
He lets go of your arm and places both hands on your shoulders, forcing you to stop with your back to the right side of the bed. You swallow hard, trying to stay calm as he commands you to strip.
You fumble with your clothing, finally managing to get it off a moment later. He licks his lips hungrily, taking in the sight of you standing nude before him. Another smirk appears on his face, his eyes dancing with mischief.
"Now, show your king just how loyal you are," he murmurs, his hands moving to the zipper of his leather pants. He unzips himself, releasing his glorious length. You stare down at it in horror and fascination. How are you supposed to do anything with that?
He makes an impatient sound in his throat, causing you to pull your eyes away from his erection. When you meet his stare, you see a hint of anger hiding just below the lust that has completely taken him over.
"I said, show me how loyal you are," he growls, thrusting his hands into your hair and pulling you to him roughly. He kisses you hard, biting down on your bottom lip before releasing his grip on you and demanding you get back on your knees.
You slowly sink down, your hands shaking slightly. You know what he expects of you, but you're afraid he's going to be very disappointed. You've only done this once before, and you're not particularly fond of it.
He tangles his long fingers in your hair, pulling you closer to his straining cock. You part your lips and tentatively lick the head. A sharp intake of breath sounds above you, and you know you've done something right. You go to lick again, but he stops you, tugging on your hair. "Uh-uh, I want you to suck. Take me in your mouth and prove what a good little servant girl you are. I'll tell you when to stop."
He releases your hair and you move your lips back to him, taking him in your mouth slowly, hesitantly. You can hear his breath hitch as your warm lips wrap around him. He tastes salty, unpleasantly so. You just want to get this done and over with, so when you have as much of him as you can handle, you begin to suck.
"Use your hand," he grunts, his fingers finding your hair once more. You bring a hand up, the other landing on his hip. You wrap your fingers around his shaft where your mouth doesn't reach, finding a rhythm as you continue your ministrations.
His breathing quickens, and when you peer up at him, you see he's got his head thrown back, an expression of sheer ecstasy on his face. Deciding to give it your all, you graze your teeth lightly against his skin, feeling him shudder. It seems like he likes it, so you do it again. A moment later, he pulls your mouth off of him. Your hand immediately lets go; you no longer want to touch him.
His head is still thrown back, eyes closed, chest heaving. You quickly bring your hand up and wipe your mouth, disgusted by the taste of him. At least he stopped before...
You don't even want to think about that.
When he opens his eyes again, he stares down at you, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "That, my dear, was lovely. But now it's time for the king to play. Get up."
You stand, eyes downcast, waiting with nervous anticipation. You know as soon as he's done, you're going to track down Thor and tell him exactly what his brother has been doing to the servant girls. You're one of the only ones who has befriended Thor, and you know you're the only one who won't hesitate to speak out against Loki, even though you find yourself attracted to the dark-haired god.
You watch him tuck himself back into his leather pants, trying not to gag when you remember how salty he tasted. So awful.
"Lie down on the bed," he whispers, reaching out and pinching your side. You squeak and swat his hand away, earning yourself a growl. His hand shoots up and wraps lightly around your throat. Your eyes widen and you stare at him, fear and defiance written across your face.
"You dare disobey your king?" He tsks and shakes his head. "You will pay for that."
He lifts you up and tosses you on the bed, crawling up next to you and pinning your arms above your head. "You like it rough, don't you?"
He laughs, holding your wrists with one hand while the other slides the riding crop out from underneath you. He sets it aside and leans forward on his knees, reaching for something you can't see. You hear a strange sound; a few seconds later, your wrists are bound to the posts of the bed, a long chain dangling above your head between the cuffs.
"And just so you're not tempted to try anything funny..."
His hands touch the cuffs and a sensation of icy coldness envelops the metal. You turn your head to try and see what he's done. The cuffs appear to be frozen solid; even if you tried to free yourself with a key, you'd have to chip through the layers of ice first.
Smirking, he leans back and stares down at you, his eyes alight with desire. You glare back at him, telling yourself it will all be over soon, and then you can have Thor take care of everything. But at the same time, the other part of you that finds yourself drawn to him is excited and wants this to last as long as possible. You force those thoughts down, refusing to accept that your body might actually want to experience whatever he has planned for you.
Picking up the riding crop, he chuckles softly and touches it lightly to your chin, trailing it slowly down your body and back up again. He taps it gently against your cheek, making you wince and turn your head.
"None of that now," he murmurs, grabbing your chin, forcing you to look at him. "I'm going to have you begging for release. Whether or not you get it is up to you."
He winks and lifts the riding crop, bringing it down on your right breast. You gasp and arch slightly, hating yourself for enjoying the sensations he's causing. You've never felt anything so wonderful. Sure, it stings, but only for a moment. You feel yourself growing wet, excitement pulsing between your legs and the scent of arousal filling the air.
Raising the crop again, he slaps your left breast this time, causing you to cry out and arch your back again. You close your eyes, panting as he continues to whip your breasts, alternating back and forth between them. Your gasps and cries of pleasure only seem to spur him on.
Just when you think you can't take anymore, he stops. You let out a cry of frustration, which only makes him laugh.
Instead of starting up again, he sets the crop aside and cups your breasts, squeezing them roughly. He leans down, sucking one nipple into his mouth while pinching the other one between his thumb and finger. You moan, struggling against your bonds.
"Uh-uh. No struggling."
He wiggles a finger at you and moves his mouth back to your breasts, lavishing them with kisses. He gently tugs your left nipple with his teeth, making you moan again, louder this time. He does it a few more times before moving his mouth to your neck, sucking on the tender skin there, leaving his mark.
"Now you belong to me," he whispers, grinning.
You're frustrated, annoyed with yourself, and so turned on you can't stand it. You watch him pick up the riding crop again and tap your knee gently with it. You know what he wants, but you don't want to do it, even though your body is filled with longing and anticipation.
"Spread your legs for me," he commands, tapping you knee harder. "Spread them wide. I know you want this. I can smell it. You ooze desire. And I desire you."
You shake your head, glaring at him defiantly. "No."
He stares back at you, a look of surprise quickly crossing his face before his expression turns neutral. "Excuse me? Did you just tell me no?"
You nod, still glaring at him. You know it won't do any good to struggle or fight him, but you're still trying to keep some shred of dignity. It doesn't last long, though.
He puts a hand on your hip and pushes, rolling you so you're now on your side. You're staring at a wall now, unable to see what he is going to do, although you have an idea. And when he brings the crop down on your ass cheeks, you know you were right.
He whips you hard, making you cry out, your tender skin stinging with each blow. It feels ridiculously amazing, though, which you hate. You can feel the heat between your legs growing stronger; your body is screaming for release.
After a few more strikes with the whip, he ceases, his breathing heavy. He massages your behind, the pain no longer noticeable.
He rolls you back over, a light sheen of sweat on his forehead and chest. He shakes his hair from his eyes and smirks at you. "Liked that, didn't you? You're a dirty little whore, aren't you? I knew you weren't like the other servant girls."
He chuckles and gets off the bed for a moment, returning with one of his scarves. Crawling back onto the bed, he hovers over you, lifting your head with one hand and wrapping the scarf around you with the other, covering your mouth. The material is itchy and leaves a nasty taste against your tongue. You whimper against your gag.
"I will not tolerate anymore of your disobedience," he growls, trailing the riding crop up and down your stomach. "Now spread your legs for me like the good girl I know you are."
You oblige, a tear of anger sliding down your cheek. You hate him for making you feel so weak. You raise your knees and open your legs for him, exposing yourself. The scent of arousal is stronger now; it permeates the room. His eyes darken and he licks his lips, a low moan escaping his lips.
Without warning, he lifts the riding crop from your stomach and brings it down against your pussy, striking you four times in quick succession. You shriek against the scarf, the sweet mix of pain and pleasure causing you to raise your hips from the bed, the chain of your cuffs jerking madly above your head as you struggle against your bonds once more.
He laughs, tickling your clit with the whip as he thrusts two fingers inside of you. You buck your hips wildly, no longer caring what he thinks of you. You've lost all control; he has won, broken you just like he said he would.
"If I take the gag off, will you be a good girl for me?" he asks, thrusting another finger inside of you as he continues to rub your clit with the whip.
You nod, your eyes rolling back. Your body is on the brink, but you know he won't let you have your release until you're begging for it.
He tosses the crop aside; you hear it land somewhere off to the left of the bed. His fingers are still pumping inside you as he unties the scarf and tosses it aside, as well.
You moan, his name falling from your lips. "Oh, Loki."
He growls and removes his fingers, leaving you wanting more. You whimper at the loss of contact, but perk up when you hear the sound of his pants unzipping. You open your eyes and watch as he discards his pants, his glorious cock springing free.
He hovers over you for a moment, another one of his mischievous grins appearing on his face. Then his hands are on your hips, his cock against your entrance.
"Do you want me to fuck you?" he asks, his voice husky and filled with desire. "Tell me you want me to fuck your pussy. Tell me you want it hard and fast. I know you do. I just want to hear you say it."
You can't even form a coherent sentence. All you can think about is easing the ache between your legs. You mumble a response, your eyes squeezed shut. He takes that as confirmation, though, because he slams into you, filling you to the hilt. A scream of pleasure is released from your throat, the sound surprising you.
He begins to thrust hard, ramming his hips against yours in wild abandon. One of his hands grabs your breast, roughly squeezing it, while the other travels up to your neck, curling around your throat just under your chin. You gasp, eyes flying open to stare at him.
"I know you still fear me," he murmurs, his green eyes burning with lust. "I know you're my brother's friend. But know this; not even Thor can save you now. I own you. You are mine and mine alone. And he can never know about it."
He releases his grip on your throat, both hands now pressing into the mattress on either side of you. He grunts and moans, pounding away, his thrusts coming more quickly now. You can feel the pressure of your own orgasm building and you want nothing more than to finally reach climax.
"Oh, fuck me, Loki! Fuck me hard! Make me come! Please!"
Your cries cause him to throw his head back and groan as he thrusts one more time, spilling himself inside of you. Seeing him in such a state of ecstasy brings about your own release, your body shuddering, toes curling, stars appearing before your eyes. It's the most intense orgasm you've ever had.
He collapses on top of you, panting heavily against your neck. You squirm beneath him, his weight crushing you. He nips the side of your neck before pulling out and rolling off of you, lying on his back.
When his breathing finally returns to normal, he raises himself up and smiles down at you. "You have proven yourself loyal to me. Your king is very, very happy. As a reward, I will release you from the cuffs now. I was thinking about keeping you chained up so I could use you whenever I want, but I know you'll be back for more. You're a very naughty servant girl."
He winks and reaches for the cuffs, dissolving the ice that surrounds them. Then he unlocks them, although you don't remember seeing a key. Your arms fall heavily to the bed, tingling as the feeling returns.
Once you feel steady enough, you slide to the edge of the bed and get up, your lower half throbbing. Your backside is a little sore from the spanking, but you honestly don't mind.
Bending down, you pick up your clothing, dressing yourself quickly. Your turn and face him again; he's still lying naked on the bed. He looks at you and nods.
"You may go now. But remember, if you tell my brother anything, I will find you and punish you."
You return his nod, turning your back on him, walking towards the door that leads back out to the throne room.
Just as you reach for the handle, a smirk forms on your lips. Glancing over your shoulder, you wink at him. "I look forward to it."