Disclaimer: This chapter explores domination and submission, drug/alcohol use, and consensual rape roleplay.
The Edge of Power
Not three sex events later, I wake to a soft caress on my wing.
Nah. Not happening.
I roll over and groan, full of self-pity. It's Ruun again.
I reek. I smell, and I'm horribly hungover.
Fuck.
I drag myself to the bathroom and turn the hot water on, leaning against the cold tiled wall. As it cascades over my wings, I press my forehead against the cool and beg the world to simplify.
Still sore about how he left it last time.
I come out dressed. The linen set from the film.
'You abandoned me.'
As soon as I say it, I see what's going on. I shift my weight. 'We're even now. Aren't we.'
That was payback--for how I abandoned him to the healer tribunal.
He leans back on the bed, that cocky, gorgeous smile lights up his eyes. Yeah. Still have it bad for this guy.
'We're not at war, darling,' he says smoothly. 'I'm stuck here for two weeks and I need your help. My Patron and my handler are on a business trip.'
I dig through my memories. Right. He's sticking to the cover story. 'You're on loan again.'
He stands up and takes my hand. 'We were popular. If we do our act, Rat says we're off the table for anyone else. Even at parties--unless we want to join. My Patron paid for my keep this time.'
I study him. This is a nice offer. Don't get me wrong--I love the freedom in a good orgy. But one partner instead of the free-for-all I've been drowning in lately?
Especially if it's Ruun?
'Agreed.'
He lights up. 'Let's go practice.'
We dash down like kids let loose in a candy store. He's more reserved, but I know I'm gonna gorge as much as I can.
By day three, we're ready.
New costumes. Ruun's the dom this time. The whole act is refreshed--tight, slick, hot.
The fae lap it up.
As the main act, it runs longer. Longer tease, longer please.
I have a silver chainmail bikini top and leather everything else. Learned that from Matriarch's character.
Ruun and I clash on stage with wooden swords, beating at each other senseless to the traditional war song. We snarl, taunt, threaten the audience. He wears me down, stroke by stroke, until I'm defeated.
Usually, we get polite claps--amused, restrained.
Then we turn up the volume.
He slams me back, sword clattering to the floor. I stumble. The audience leans in.
Every time.
The act shifts--rougher now, charged. Ruun circles like a predator, one foot between my knees, blade-tip gracing my collarbone. The story's clear: the demon loses. The human wins. It's all theatre, but the fae drink it in like prophecy.
I let my eyes widen, let my body falter. I give them the fall. The collar. The chain.
The gritty song starts again, I've developed a pathological response to that tune--instantly aroused.
Ruun's the same. He grabs my horn--rough, possessive--and the crowd roars.
I fall to my knees. I snarl, bite at his belt. He fists my hair and shoves himself in with no care for grace. My throat spasms. My eyes water.
He's brutal. I choke, gag, claw at his thighs like I'm trying to get away. He growls, diving deeper. The audience is rapt--disgusted, delighted, devouring every second.
It's all an act. None of it's real.
But the fae get worked into a fervour.
My screams of protest cut off as he shoves past my gag reflex.
Aah-Gug. Gug. Gug.
I'm absolutely fine. We're just hamming it up, milking the drama for all it's worth.
Second pose: he yanks my right leg out, just enough to throw me off balance, then fingers me--rough, almost careless.
I shriek in protest. Then whimper. Then moan.
I start to rock on his hand like I can't help it. Like my body's betrayed me.
That's the story we're selling.
By the third position, I'm eager. Willing.
He drills into me hard, unforgiving. I brace myself on the stage and push my hips back into each thrust, chasing it--but he always pulls away just before I can catch it.
The fae eat it up. Palpably aroused by the Story we sell: the demon broken, begging, wanting.
The real payoff: he roars as his load bursts over my back.
He shoves me, discarded on the stage, and the fae leap to their feet, erupting in cheers. The sound of coins, trinkets, and who-knows-what else rains down, tossed by our appreciative admirers.
He bows deeply, full of swagger. I kneel and scramble, collecting the favours thrown our way.
I don't know what they are, but Rat will sort them. He'll vet each one with his spells before he sells them.
The First Spark
After our latest performance, a polite fae waits in the wings.
'My boss has enjoyed your act. He wishes to bring you to his place for the night.'
Neither of us wear collars. It's our choice. A hefty tip two nights ago has bought me a little more freedom, a few more perks. I glance at Ruun. He shakes his head.
'We are honoured, but we are booked for another party tonight. May the Mother grant us another chance to blossom in her sunshine with your Patron.'
We bow low, respectful.
The fae nods. 'He will be disappointed.'
I touch her hand lightly and cite a cafe where she can contact us anonymously. 'Talk to Rat. We're available most evenings for any size party.'
She brightens, her smile a flicker of hope before she turns and walks away.
Gud puts his hands over our shoulders, a satisfied smirk on his face.
We're not at the mercy of his musty ass now. We're earning more for the house each gig.
POP
We materialise in a green room, ready to clean up and prepare for our next performance of the night.
It's been a breathtaking two weeks. By the time Ruun was set to return to Sea, we were both in tears, filled with sadness. Dancing with my beloved, and our energy magic together, every time... it made me fall in love with him all over again. To be honest, I never fell out of it.
Yeah. So I mama beared all over a strange fae's ass when I discovered him fighting with my territory. Just before I hurl him out of the window--well, come on, it's a fae, with wings.
Anyway, the dramatic flying act comes to a close, and Ruun tackles. Again.
The fae? Sea. A fucking 'shifter. The one who watched the troll I might add.
