"Please."
He hated the word. It sounded so small, so pathetic, so childish.
The ring closed tightly around his flesh, her voice whispering how he was hers now.
He'd come to her room, bowed stiffly, watched her with the usual wary dislike, but then things had changed.
She touched him, told him to strip down, and slid the ring over his organ, caressing him with overly long nails. He shuddered and tried to pull away, pushing against her with the strength of his Jewels. "Get away."
She stepped away and he stepped back, but a moment later he was on the floor, bent double, screaming and crying as waves of pain washed through his penis into the rest of his body, pain centering in his groin until he couldn't even gather the breath to scream but just writhed, crying and screaming silently.
When it was over she looked down at him and smiled her cold, cruel smile. He stared back at her defiantly, trying to snarl through the pain throbbing through his most sensitive parts.
"Do not disobey me again or I will hurt you again. And more, until you learn to obey."
He shuddered, stood, his fists clenched, meeting her eyes defiantly, and spat.
It was three more rounds of screaming that he finally crawled to her feet, begged her for mercy, his whole body cramped and wracked with pain.
"Please," he whispered, his voice worn out from screaming. He felt very young, hatefully young, as she lifted his chin and looked into his eyes and told him to come with her.
The bed was luscious and large, the sheets red and bright and soft, the carpet thick. It turned his stomach. He tried to shrink back but she just lifted her hand and he jerked forward, not wanting to suffer that agony again.
"You know why this is called a Ring of Obedience?" She said, after, caressing him and touching it with her cool fingers, her smile languorous and satisfied. "Because it will make you obey me."
Her hands on his body were like fire. He burned with shame and suppressed fury.
"Please," he begged as she spread her legs and pulled him to her. "Please, no," as she pressed his mouth to her breast, a pang between his legs reminding him of the price for disobedience. "Please-" As she grabbed him and worked her hands roughly even while he tried to pull away.
By the time it was over, he would never say that word again. It was so useless, so small, so pathetic. He closed himself away from her and she lay back, stretching her naked body, not allowing him to look away even as his cheeks flushed, not sure whether the shame was for himself or not. "Please," one last time, hoarsely. Begging to leave.
Begging. Humiliation burned his face.
"Very well." That cold smile. Hatred was a pit of heat in his belly. "You may go. I will see you again tonight."
He couldn't find his clothes. She gave him strange ones – pants that fit too tightly and a shirt slashed to his waist. He fidgeted and flushed looking at his reflection in the mirror, but she just laughed and he fled. Because he knew that he would be back. He didn't dare do otherwise.
He went to find Manny, but they'd sent Manny away. She'd gone back home, they said. She was done caring for him.
His heart hardened a little more, the ice coating it a little thicker.
The closet in his room was full of clothes like the ones he was wearing. He curled up under the blankets without changing and shivered. He slept restlessly if at all.
The night came too soon, with the ting of a bell calling him and the jolt in his groin reminding him of the price.
He steeled himself on the long walk down the corridors. When he reached Dorothea's door, he lifted his hand and knocked once. The servant who opened the door flinched back from deadly golden eyes, cold and almost lifeless.
"Dorothea," he said in a voice that was no longer a child's. "You called?"