As Sarah approached the door to the throne room, after having become hopelessly lost in Jareth's irritating optical illusion again, she could here raised voices.

"Don't you ever interfere with her again," came Jareth's voice, filled with a power and authority that made Sarah tremble despite the fact that she was not even in the room.

"Oh ho, Cousin," came the usually smooth tones of Raemon, although his voice sounded a little strained, for all its mocking tone, "how jealous you are of a mere mortal wench. She is a whore, to be used and thrown away."

Jareth's roar of fury was accompanied by a crash and a cry of pain. Sarah burst into the room, intent on stopping Jareth before he went too far. The sight that met her eyes was one that she would never forget. It rooted her to the spot as the tendrils of magic that laced the air invaded her senses and overpowered her capacity for reason. She could almost taste it.

Raemon was spread-eagled in the manner of Da Vinci's Vetruvian Man, fifteen foot up in the air and pinned against the stone wall. Below him, with palm outstretched stood Jareth, holding him there with the sheer force of his magic. A sticky black substance was leaking from Raemon's lower lip and his tongue kept darting out to taste it. It was blood, Sarah realised.

Raemon strained his neck against the power that was holding him and his eyes darted to Sarah where she stood, frozen by the sight and force of such powerful magic. His eyes darted back to Jareth and his tongue snaked out to flick over his lip again.

"You see, she loves me Jareth. She can't keep away, can you love?" Raemon drew his lips into a horrible parody of a smile.

Jareth growled dangerously and he fingers of his outstretched hand twitched. Without looking at her Jareth spoke in a coldly controlled voice. "Sarah, my dear, I must ask you to leave. My cousin and I have some unfinished business we must attend to."

Sarah did not move, could not tear her eyes away.

"Ah, Sarah my love," crooned Raemon, "do not desert me. Come to me and press your womanly body to mine, and love me."

As he spoke Sarah found a vision filling her head. She was lying on a well kept lawn in front of a grand 18th century house, and she was naked. A man appeared. Raemon was dressed in nothing but his breeches as he crossed to her, lay down beside her and kissed her. His eyes swept appreciatively down her body. Sarah shook her head, this wasn't right. But Raemon pressed her into the grass, using his weight to hold her still as his hands moved from her hair down to her...

"No!" Jareth's cry of fury shook Sarah back to her senses. "I warned you Raemon, I warned you."

Raemon started to scream and writhe against the force that was pinning him against the wall. The fingers of Jareth's outstretched hand were closing, as though squeezing slowly down on something in his hand.

"Sarah, leave now!" he roared as Raemon's screams became more terrible, "LEAVE."

Sarah stood, watching in horror as some invisible vice seemed to be closing round the man pinned to the wall. She fought back the urge to be sick as she heard a rib crack, and then another. The sound of bone splintering and heavy breathing filled the throne room. And then suddenly she could stand it no longer.

"Jareth stop," she cried, rushing over and jumping on his back, seeking to wrestle him to the floor. He threw her off and she landed in a crumpled heap at his feet. "Jareth no, don't kill him," she begged, wrapping her arms around one of his legs and sobbing.

Jareth glanced down at her, loosening his fingers a little. He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Perhaps you are right," he said in an offhand manner and drew back his hand sharply. Raemon dropped to the floor, sliding down the wall to lie broken at its base. Jareth turned away, shaking himself free of Sarah's grasp. "Deal with him then," he said shortly.

Sarah looked up at him and then across to Raemon. Tremblingly, she climbed to her feet and made her way cautiously over to where he lay. His breath was rasping through his lips and his face was filled with pain. He tried to push himself up as she approached, but his arms would not support his weight and he slumped back to the floor. Sarah knelt down in front of him. Ignoring the black blood that marked a trail from his lip to his shirt, she reached out a hand and turned his head to face her. Slowly, she brought his head towards her, looking at his mouth. She could feel his breath rasping over her lips as she shut her eyes, her mouth millimetres from his.

"No," she said suddenly, pulling back and getting to her feet, crossing to where Jareth stood watching. "Because I love Jareth." And she reached up to kiss his mouth, feeling his hands settle on her waist. Hands that still tingled with the aftershock of powerful magic. As he kissed her, Jareth opened his eyes and looked sideways at Raemon. His cousin was hunched on the floor, pain and longing written on his face as he tried not to watch. Jareth shut his eyes, kissing Sarah again before pulling away. When he spoke his voice was quite calm.

"I think you got the message," he said simply, "go back to your home. Let me love my wife." Jareth waved his hand in Raemon's direction and the other fae man vanished. Jareth stood looking at the spot where he had been for a few moments longer before turning slowly to face Sarah.

"And now to deal with you."

"Wh...what?" Sarah gasped, not understanding.

Jareth strode to his throne and retrieved his riding crop. He twirled it between his fingers, regarding Sarah thoughtfully.

"You disobeyed my orders," he said eventually, his tone one of silky smoothness. Dangerous. "I told you to leave and you did not. You disobeyed me." He began pacing towards her, looking at her levelly. "Fear me. Love me. Do as I say." He said with emphasis. "You disobeyed me," Sarah saw his eyes darken a little, seeing the spark of lust that kindled there, "and so you must be punished," he whispered, his face only centimetres from hers.

Quick as lightening he grabbed her arm and spun her in a quarter turn, landing the riding stick in a harsh slap across her bum. He heard her let out a gasp, but when she turned her eyes to him he saw they had darkened with arousal.

Placing a hand on the back of her neck, Jareth pushed her down until she was crouched on all fours on the ground. Swiftly he lifted the skirts of her dress and lowered her knickers so that her arse was bared to him. He had to take a steadying breath when the smell of her arousal hit him hard as he pushed the stick between her knees, running it up until it was pressing hard against her. He withdrew it and swung his arm, landing it against her arse in a heavy slap, wet with her juices. Without warning he pushed two fingers deep inside her, keeping them there as he pulled her to her feet with his other hand.

"Walk," he commanded, pressing his two fingers deeper insider her, "we will go somewhere more suitable."

Jareth crossed his fingers inside her, then opened them away from each other, stretching her sensitive walls. Sarah stumbled and grabbed his shoulder to stop herself falling.

"Walk," he demanded again.

With each step that Sarah took Jareth thrust his fingers deeply inside her. The sensation of trying to walk with him there was almost too much to bear and she had to fight to keep her balance against the swirling dizziness he invoked in her. Once she fell and he landed her a sharp crack with the stick, the throbbing sending waves of arousal straight to the pit of her stomach. Jareth pulled her into the antechamber to stand on the disc that she had used on the night of her arrival. He pressed her hard against his chest, feeling the hammering of her heart and revelling in the slipperiness round his fingers.

As they rose into the air Sarah clung to Jareth for fear that her trembling and aroused state would cause her to fall. Jareth slipped his fingers out of her, running them up to her other, puckered opening. He ran his fingers lightly over it, chuckling deep in his belly as Sarah ducked her head in embarrassment. No matter how many times he did that, Sarah felt hat she would never truly get over the shyness it stirred in her. Jareth leaned back, almost causing Sarah to overbalance as he seemed to defy the laws of gravity. He tapped her legs apart a little with the riding crop before reaching round her again and jamming his finger into her puckered opening, right up to the knuckle. He laughed as she gasped in shock.

And then they reached the tower room. It had changed since Sarah had last been inside it. The central board was no longer there, but in its place was a simple wicker chair, with no armrests or aspects of comfort. Jareth crossed to the chair and sat down facing her.

"Strip," he ordered.

Slowly, Sarah began to pull off her dress, struggling as her hands became lost in the sleeves. Soon she stood before him in nothing but her bra and panties, black and slightly lacy, that Jareth had materialised for her before he left in the morning. She felt the heat rising in her body at the sight of his primal stare.

"Remove them," he growled, his voice deep and husky.

Sarah did as she was bidden, resisting the urge to cross her arms over her body. She stood before him, waiting. Jareth reached into the air and took hold of the golden handcuffs he had used on the night of her arrival. He motioned for her to turn round. He stood quietly and approached her. Admiring her figure as she stood before him. Leaning close, knowing she could feel the heat of his body by the involuntary shudder that ran through her, he whispered in her ear.

"I will teach you never to disobey me again. Hold out our hands."

Sarah held her wrists out behind her and felt the cuffs snap into place. She shut her eyes and bit her lip, trying to control her rising arousal. The thick black folds of a blindfold were lowered over her eyes and then she could see nothing. She felt Jareth walk round her, his gaze burning her flesh. And then she felt the whip. Jareth rested it onto her shoulder, running it slowly down one arm and back up. Sliding it over her breasts and down between her legs. She could feel his eyes following its movements.

Jareth grabbed her arm and marched her across to the chair. Sitting down on it he pulled her across his lap, holding onto her arms where they were cuffed behind her back. He could feel his erection pushing hard into her stomach and he smiled grimly to himself.

"Why do I need to punish you?" he growled.

"I disobeyed you, Goblin King," Sarah answered as the blood rushed to her head.

"Good," Jareth crooned. He raised the whip. And suddenly Sarah found the blood inclined to gather in another place in her body. Jareth beat down, raising red welts on the smooth skin of her behind, completely aware of how her breath was coming in pants and how her juices were making a damp patch on his breaches.

After about ten strokes, Sarah had lost count as the pleasure pain washed through her travelling straight to her heat, Jareth stopped hitting her. Calmly, he reversed the stick and pushed the thick, leather bound handle up inside her. He rotated it in a slow circle, feeling her shudder against his knees as more of her dampness soaked into his breeches. He pumped the whip into her a few more times, reaching down to press his gloved fingers against her clit. He brought her right to the edge and then stopped, withdrawing the whip slowly and freeing his fingers. He smiled in satisfaction as her groan of disappointment told him that his timing had been perfect.

"Stand up." Though his arousal was one that could rival hers, he managed to keep his voice fairly even.

Sarah pulled herself up, her shaking knees barely holding her. Concentrate, she thought, do as he tells you.

"Kneel before me," came Jareth's voice and as ever, Sarah complied.

Jareth stared at her, his hand running against his length through the fabric that covered it as Sarah knelt before him. He grew even harder at the sight, if that were possible; her submissive position and helplessness adding to his ever growing arousal. He unfolded himself from the chair and prowled over to her. Reaching down he undid the handcuffs, pulling her arms round in front of her and snapping them closed again. Jareth desperately wanted to take her, then and there, but this was supposed to be a punishment. He stepped away.

"Finish yourself off," he commanded.

Sarah felt the heat rush to her face. She wouldn't...she could never...

"Finish yourself off while I sit here and watch," he instructed again.

Her cheeks burning red, Sarah lowered her hands between her legs and started to stimulate herself. Biting her lip against the knowledge of his stare, she tried to imagine that it was Jareth's fingers and not her own that were currently pushing at her opening.

"Dear dear," came Jareth's amused voice, "not very good at this are we? You will have to try...harder. Think of my fingers, think of my tongue..." Jareth tailed off as Sarah's fingers began to move faster and with more purpose. Watching her intently, Jareth undid the front of his breeches, reaching down to his erection and rubbing himself in time to her rhythm. The expression on Sarah's face turned from one of mortification to one of pleasure as she pushed herself closer to her orgasm. When she came Jareth watched her face for a couple more seconds, before letting his own climax over-power him as he gritted his teeth to stop himself crying out.

When the last waves of pleasure had shuddered from his body, he fastened his breeches before, after glancing briefly at Sarah, waving his hand and clearing up the mess.

Sarah jumped at the feel of Jareth's hand on her shoulder and felt the queer rushing feeling that told her they were being transported. The handcuffs dematerialised and Jareth reached out to tenderly remove the blindfold from her face, shielding her eyes with his hand until they became accustomed to the bright light of his bathroom. He smiled gently down at her, bringing her lips against his before lifting her to her feet and pulling her gently into the shower. He stepped in after her, his clothes whispering from his body like ghostly smoke. The water was warm and soothing as Sarah stood beneath its flow. Jareth leant against the ceramic wall, watching her. He reached out his hand and lightly stroked his fingers down her cheek.

"Forever," he said softly.

Sarah scraped her hair back from her head, letting the water fall onto her face. "What?" she asked.

"Forever and ever." He joined her under the flow of water, bringing his lips tenderly against hers. The water poured down on them, clinging to his long eyelashes and running down their bodies. His hands ghosted over her shoulder blades, running down her back to rub lightly over the still tender flesh of her behind. His fingers caressed away the sting as he kissed her again. His hands stroked over her back as the centres of their bodies pressed against each other. He kissed her a third time.

"I must go," he whispered.

He turned and slipped out the shower, his clothes forming around him as he slid the panel door shut behind him. He closed the bathroom door quietly and leant against it, breathing deeply and gathering his thoughts. Resolutely, he opened his eyes. He did not return to the study but instead set off to perform some of the more practical duties that were required of him. He discovered to his surprise that only two goblins had unwittingly trapped themselves in the oubliette and that while the door itself was alright, one of the helping hands had chipped a nail and was moaning loudly about it. These and other tasks Jareth performed, relishing the distraction from the beauty that would again share his bed that night.

He returned to the castle only when it was time for dinner. He reached the study before Sarah, noticing that the quill now lay still and silent beside the jumble of papers on top of his desk. He crossed to it and began to sort through the paperwork. The ruined sheet of accounts he had already thrown on the fire, but the ones that had been completed previously were all in order. Shifting the pile of paper into a draw, he unwittingly dislodged a page he did not remember dealing with. It was covered in writing of a sensuous midnight blue that wove across the parchment with a startling clarity. Curious, he laid it under the light and sat down to read it.

It was a page of his thoughts. It was a page of rather illustrative thoughts about Sarah. About Sarah as she had been in the tower room that morning, and then later in the shower. Thoughts that he had hardly been aware he was thinking, but that caused a faint red to rise in his palorous cheeks as he read them back. He considered throwing it straight on the fire, but instead continued to read. He realised suddenly that he had never instructed the quill to stop following his demands, and that as such it had penned all that he asked of it up until the time that he had left the confines of his castle. He smiled to himself as he realised that he would have to be more guarded of his thoughts from now on, lest his accounts and other paper work become much more interesting than usual.

The door opened and Sarah came in. Jareth hastily shoved the paper into one of the draws in his desk. Sarah's eyes followed the guilty movement. He rose elegantly and crossed to Sarah, wrapping his arms round her and leaning back to look at her.

"How are you my dear? None the worse I trust?"

She smiled up at him and kissed him on the corner of the mouth.

"I'm famished," she stated, "let's eat."

Jareth seated her comfortably into a chair by the fire, drawing the table near. He waved his hand to summon the food and together they tucked in.