Chapter 1
She trailed behind him, her footsteps slowing. The form in front of her radiated an unmistakable grace and elegance...all masked beneath an inscrutable mask, both literally and figuratively, and ensconced in the undeniable mantle of power.
She eyed the chain about her wrists and briefly contemplating the potentially unending, near-endless tortures he had the legal authority and sadistic potential to inflict upon her.
At last his footsteps slowed. He turned around to regard her before palming open the door, "Get inside."
Edian veritably stumbled inside, overwhelming guilt and fear quickly coming to the fore and discouraging her from making eye-contact with the regal being.
"Sit."
He gestured towards the empty chair by a nondescript three-legged table in the far corner of the room. She obeyed, nudging the chair with one foot and seating herself.
To her surprise, he pulled out several glasses from the topmost cupboard and a bottle of wine.
"Drink."
He had freed her wrists with a key he had produced from beneath his cloak. Again, she accepted the proffered cup, fingers trembling slightly as they wrapped themselves around the copper vessel.
"I see that Gejutel has neglected to inform you of my more errant, dare I say unconventional, desires. No matter, the decision will be yours, ultimately."
"Yes, Master." She blushed briefly when she realized her mistake, having grown accustomed to the term 'Master' as opposed to 'My Lord'.
"Oh? I thought that title was reserved for Sir Raizel?" A single raise of a delicate eyebrow. The vaguest hint of a smirk on the androgynous man's face, with a candor that ill-disguised his deviance.
Edian's eyes squeezed shut briefly in extraordinary pain, "I have little right to call him that anymore."
"Fair enough."
She had, up until this point, entertained a plethora of scenarios in her mind over why the Lukedonian official wished to terminate her himself, and under such personal and secretive circumstances.
"Ah, so that's it. You're not familiar with my tastes"
"Your preferences, my Lord?"
"You do not need to comply, of course, I can carry out your execution in a more conventional manner..."
"...or we can have some fun, before the fact." He leaned back in the chair, glancing briefly at the wall clock, "You may leave in a body bag, or a matchbox, whichever is your preference."
Here, Edian swallowed. "W-whichever is to your tastes, my Lord." Her vague attempts at humor was not well received, and her countenance immediately returned to its usual burnt-out, ashen pallor, now utterly etched with the tell-tale signs of hopelessness and dread. She lowered her gaze when her attempts appeared to have failed miserably.
Even if the man were to indulge his more unconventional tastes, it could hardly be worse than an axe to the skull or the back of the neck. Edian was fully expectant of an axe-through-the-skull in any case, utterly well-earned, so then, how did it matter?
She nodded briefly.
His lips formed into a devious grin. ...Which did little for Edian's heightening sense of growing foreboding, hairs rising against the back of her neck. Her mouth running dry.
He eyed the traitor-bitch through half-lidded eyes. The alcohol was quickly doing its work. He raked well-manicured fingernails over a youthfully-plump cheek, lightening the pressure just as he began to draw blood. The sight of the crimson was already making him nearly delirious with ecstasy. He masked it well, of course, presenting a stone-faced and unreadable expression to the treasonous cur in front of him.
She briefly reflected that according to the "standard procedure" he would have, without any need of a smokescreen or other political tool, by unwritten right and precedent been able to do as he liked. The only reason that Edian had been granted a relatively light sentence, a quick execution as opposed to a protracted, messy affair in the manner of those usually convicted of treason, was on the grounds that the majority of her actions had purportedly been those of an unwilling puppet under Gradeus' control. It was nearly ludicrous that he was asking for her consent, in any case.
Either way.
Shredding the garment with a single motion of the dagger that was usually strapped to his hip, keeping-in-check his desire to violate the wretch until the end of their activities. He drank-in the vast expanse of unmarred flesh.
Raising her right palm to his lips, he ran a tongue along the cool flesh left by the bruising on her right palm, detecting the coppery scent through the skin. He pulled back briefly, head inclined at a thirty-degree angle, better appraising himself of the creatures attributes before reigning in his irrepressible desire in favor of a more protracted pleasure.
Edian eyed him, gaze hooded and cheeks damp with a saline moisture, as he twisted about, traversing the length of the chamber and producing several iron implements.
The look on the woman's face was quickly replaced with one of utter terror as he took the poker over to the fireplace to be heated. Out of little more than reflex, Edian immediately to struggle and strain against the restraints. As tired and averse to further punishment as she was, Edian could hardly mask her feelings of guilt.
A/N: More goodies to come. :)