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Wicked games
Warning: non-con? You decide.
Long shadows creep into the mansion, when the time for him to please his Master again, comes. His injuries were healed and his body was cleaned up; he didn't resist then, accepting these preparations like a rag doll. What was the point? All he'd accomplish would be another beating and more torture later. Enchanted shackles restrain his wrists and ankles, holding the lyrium markings at bay, a collar of strange tingling iron is tightened around his neck. Naked, Fenris is led by the two guards to a room he would never forget. Guided by the chains in their arms, he doesn't take his gaze from the floor, when they walk through the halls and passages. He keeps his eyes down, when the guards bind his manacles to a dull metal rings, screwed into the wall against the giant bed. He will not resist now, there is no point. Bowing his head, he hangs in the shackles, sprawled on the wall like a grotesque creature, steeling himself against the inevitable.
He wants to sense nothing.
It feels like only minutes has passed, when he hears incoming steps, followed by a burst of the drunken laugh. His nerves taut in an instant like a string of the finest bow. Squeezing his eyes, Fenris tries to evade the moment of facing his Master a little longer. But when the door opens, suspense takes a hold over the shreds of self-control and his eyes involuntarily dash to the figures, outlined by the dim light, coming through the door frame. Of course Danarius is not alone, she stands beside him, leaning on his arm. She doesn't look surprised by that newest addition to the interior, but her gaze doesn't stay on Fenris, instead shifting to the bed. Nudging her inside the room, Danarius closes the door and Fenris almost feels his eager smile. Taking her by the elbows, Danarius leads her to stand before his slave. For a moment both of them just watching him in silence. Danarius' breathing becomes heavier the longer his eyes linger on the lines of Fenris' body, admiring his own lyrium handiwork. Slightly shivering from that sign of anticipation, she turns her head away.
Lifting a hand, Danarius rests his fingers on the back of her neck, slowly tracing them towards her collarbone. At the same time he cups her breast in another hand, pinching her nipple. She gasps from the pain, but Fenris, paralyzed by this new game, cannot tear his eyes away from his Master's fingers. They paint an intricate and so familiar patterns down her shoulders. Patterns, resembling his markings. When Fenris finally raises his eyes, a wicked and expectant smirk on Danarius' lips cause him to swallow in a surge of fear. Leaving her breast, Danarius leisurely unbuckles her tunic, until with a slight rustle the soft material glides down her curves to rest at their feet. Standing fully naked before Fenris, she meets his eyes with a defiant look. He must be deceived, imagining the notes of humiliation lurking in the background, but his mouth goes dry.
Behind her Danarius disrobes himself, and runs his hands over her hips, palming her lower abdomen. Snaking his fingers into her slit, he gives her a few languid strokes, all the while looking at Fenris. Disgusted and aroused at the same time, Fenris turns away in shame, dreading the moment, when his Master would decide to include him into this game.
Apparently bored with prelude, Danarius seizes her hips and thrusts inside, watching his slave's reactions. She breathes out a pained groan, which startles Fenris. Instinctively, he glances at the woman's face, noticing her eyes are suddenly bright. Too bright. Nipping at her bottom lip, she refuses to look away, moving closer and closer with each thrust, until she's forced to brace herself against the wall to avoid falling onto him. With mere inches separating them, he feels her breath on his neck, he almost senses the heat of her body with his skin. There is not enough space between the two toys of Danarius, not enough air for both of them. Fenris sees a crinkle crossing the bridge of her nose, blood trailing down her chin, her eyes growing wet. His markings come alive in the tension around them. Danarius raises his hand and immediately Fenris can't breathe, the collar is too tight, it's burning into his flesh. He gasps and Danarius laughs, petting his cheek, and coming at the sight of his pet's desperate efforts to live.
Asphyxiated, Fenris' mind slides into darkness.
