This is Not a Collar

And then at once his world went into a whirl as she slammed his shoulders to the floor, kissed him on the mouth, sought out his cock, and took him whole. He gasped, and his hips bucked; she felt every one of his ecstatic throbs.

"Aww, look at you," she growled, ruffling his hair. "Wow, you wanted my cunt so, so bad."

"Yeah," he whined. She started to ride him, quick, shallow thrusts.

"You're fucking adorable. You really like it when I rough you up, don't you?" His brow crinkled, and his grin widened.

"Yes, you beast, yes!" Her rhythm was relentless.

"Now, where's that savage boy they'd warned me against? Turns out all you have to do to tame a Kontarian is to pet him a little, and he'll roll right over for you, in his pretty collar..."

"Torc!"

She giggled, and stopped. "You're not giving in on that one, are you?"

"No," he muttered, sulkily. Thoughtful, she nudged the bronze rim with her finger. There was something satisfying about its weight, a real feeling of substance. The metal was warm with his warmth. She patted him on the throat, and then resumed her thrusting.

"Roll over in his torc. His pretty torc that he won because he's fucking awesome!"

His proud little smirk was just too much. She placed both hands on his chest and pushed hard and deep, all along his length, for a nice, intense sensation. He closed his eyes, bit his lip, and just surrendered himself to the wild joy of being fucked on her terms.

Many Harmeni nobles rode Kontarian horses. Gabrielle supposed that she was the only one to ride Kontarian boys. She couldn't tell why. The boys were more fun, more beautiful, and more obedient than the horses. The boys could make you lose your mind.

Under her onslaught his body squirmed and withered, and made needy noises. She watched him keenly, saw the orgasm building up inside him; and once she felt he was close she stopped, and let his cock slip out of her, and leaned over him, breathing heavily.

"You're too cute for your own good," she responded to his disappointed whine. He opened his eyes and looked into hers, insane with lust. "I want to keep edging you for hours. I want to edge you until you fucking cry."

"You're pitiless." There was no protest in his voice, just tenderness.

"No. I do feel bad for you, my boy. But if you knew what it feels like to hold you like this, you'd forgive me." She grabbed him whole, hugged him close. "You're just awesome, okay? I want to hold onto you like this forever."

"Please. I just want to surrender to you. With my whole body."

She just couldn't bear to deny him, she knew. He was where she'd wanted, into this with his whole soul. And her craving for his pleasure was as strong as his for hers. Yes, Aerin, absolutely. Anything you ask. She licked her lips, and cocked her head, and willed herself to sound less melted than she was.

"So you're asking me to allow you a moment of total surrender?"

He nodded eagerly. "I'd get on my knees again... but I think I'm more submissive as is."

"If you put it this way... okay. I like that. You've convinced me. But!" Her index finger shot through the air and touched down between his eyebrows. "I have two terms for your surrender."

"Anything."

"That's a reckless answer. Term the first! You're not allowed to look away from me. I want to see that submission right in your eyes. Second term: you're going to make a total spectacle out of yourself. You're going to moan, and you're going to whine, you're going to be loud, you're going to let me know how much you're loving this. Understood?"

He brightened up even more. Not even at the terms themselves. He was just really grateful that she gave him something he could obey her in. "Yes," he gasped out.

"Good boy. But, before we start." She covered his eyes with her hand. "Close your eyes and lie still. Let this moment really sink in. Think how amazing it will feel."

He hummed in agreement. She lifted her hand. There was restless movement under his closed eyelids, his breath was shallow, and all his muscles twitched and trembled. She slipped her fingers under the torc and grabbed it; its ends clicked together as it tightened snug around his neck. She rested her other hand on his breastbone and softly pinched his nipple, drawing a quiet whine; she held onto it like that. Then she moved no more, and gloried in his beautiful agony.

The bulge of his throat stirred under her knuckles as he swallowed. She felt his heart pound beneath the muscles of his chest. His cock was like an iron rod, tapping against her skin, aching with the need for release. All his body was on full display before her; all his youthful masculinity was willingly offered up as her plaything, to be used however she wished.

His spine raved with a ferocious bliss. All sharp edges in his mind were made soft, and he had nothing to hide, and everything was at peace with everything else. He imagined what it will feel like, being made to cum for her amusement, and he just couldn't wait. He should be at least a bit annoyed how much this turned him on, but he didn't care. Let her tease him about this later, he didn't care either.

She leaned in close and lightly kissed his cheek. He opened his eyes and looked into hers. She backed away, found his cock, and watched him carefully as she took him. He whimpered, and light shone bright against the black of his pupils.

She started moving. True to the terms, he let his voice colour his breath. No words formed within the primal moans, and yet he was sure he was telling her something. He didn't know what it was; he only knew that it was very true, and therefore very frightening to express. In this trance, he forgot the second term; his eyes slowly shut, and his head lolled to the side. She took her hand off the torc, grabbed his hair, and firmly set his head straight up again -- and the look of awestruck admiration he gave in return almost killed her on the spot.

She'd seen such worshipful deference before -- in the faces of people who would glimpse the King. Those looks were earned by gilt, by ceremony, by royal legend, by donning ermines and crown jewels in lofty audience halls. She never expected to earn one by getting naked on a stable floor.

The Kontarians were brought up disdaining royalties and divine rights and noble bloodlines. Aerin had seen her weak and helpless. He knew that she was no better than him. And yet he was now almost crying with gratitude that he could gift himself to her. The look he gave her could only be earned from an equal surrendering all pride and power, an unbent, unbroken soul; a lucid, authentic, and enthusiastic submission.

She'd never held anything sacred, a priest once told her after she'd skipped one rite too many. It may have been true. She'd never really experienced religious fervour. But now, in this moment, she thought she at least understood it. His trust, pure and reckless and desperate -- if that wasn't sacred, nothing was.

Her hair tickled his face, and she echoed his moans. He writhed in his binding, pierced by her eyes. She'd vanquished him utterly, that glorious beast. He was more than kneeling; he was held on his back. He was more than naked; he was split wide open, and she could see right into his core, and pick out his nerves one by one, and play on them whatever shining tune she wanted, his mistress, his goddess, his girl. The crest of his glans was firmly sheathed and wetly dragged along her very inner self. His nipple tingled under her thumb. His body wound up, convulsed, and slipped away from him. And at the summit of his ecstasy, already beyond saving, already falling, he smiled at her. She would now take everything he had left.

Everything. Everything, everything, everything, everything, everything.

He came violently, coiling in her hands. His orgasm was everything they'd hoped it would be. It was a full, unyielding force, a repeated shock of reckless euphoria, completely draining, completely overpowering. She felt his muscles twist, she heard his voice break, she saw his eyes roll up, unfocus, and close. Inside her, his long-suffering cock thrashed with release, spluttering his body's homage to hers. She threw her head back and gave a triumphant growl. He'd understood her, accepted her, and let her blow his mind. Everything was fucking great, in all of everywhere under the sun.

She sprung down, and pressed her temple hard against his. "You're fucking awesome," she whispered into his ear -- he probably didn't hear, his brain now floating somewhere about the roof. It only very dimly entered his awareness that she proceeded to shower his throat with kisses. It took him a long while to gather himself up in more or less one piece, locate the muscles that controlled his eyelids, open his eyes, find himself back on that stable floor, and lengthily exhale.

"Fuck," he said.

"Boy's satisfied?" His fingers stirred.

"Boy wants his hands back."

His pride now rising from its ashes, this was a mildly dangerous moment, of course. It carried a risk of tickling, pinching, and other assorted acts of vengeance. Couldn't really leave him like that, though.

Still kneeling on top of him, she untied the rope, and waited. His right arm stirred, arched through the air, fell against her lap. And then he started laughing.

"Fuck, Gabrielle... I can't move."

She returned his laugh and pressed her cheek to his chest. "You're trembling all over, you poor thing."

"Right? Man..." He fell silent. It was unbelievable how comfortable this floor was. The entire world turned soft and was cuddling him. He looked vacantly to the rafters. If this entire stable somehow caught on fire right now, he probably couldn't be persuaded to move a single limb. This was good. This stable was good. All of Kontaria was good. Harmen, all things weighed and considered, was sure as fuck good.

He hadn't quite foreseen things would get this intense. He'd been dismantled without being violated. She'd taken out the core of his being, saw in it her reflection, gave it a kiss, and carefully put it back in. Rather than feeling unease having allowed himself to be so deeply accessed, he felt reassured somehow, given confidence. Something that was frozen in him looked, in this light, like it had a chance to thaw.

"That was incredible," he whispered. She took his hand and kissed the deep imprints that the rope had made. His plain joy warmed her to her spine. In fact, it was altogether quite warm.

"You will be a good boy now and bring your mistress some water, right?" A grin slowly crept across his face. He lifted his head and bit her lightly on the shoulder -- at which, for some reason, one of the horses neighed with great cheer.

"Fuck off with that mistress shit," he said. She chuckled and thumbed the inside of his hand.

"Know what, they're right in Harmen. Kontarians completely lack respect. I should have heeded the warnings." His eyelids were getting heavier and heavier.

"You should have asked me to do stuff," he said with some effort, "before you turned my brain into a puddle of sunshine." This was it, then. She definitely also wasn't moving from here, where she could listen to his heart slowly calm down.

"So we'll die of thirst here?"

"I think so." He closed his eyes. His deep peacefulness radiated onto her, and she yawned.

"That's okay..."

Outside, still the forest whispered in the wind. On the slanting golden rays, a bumblebee bungled in through the door, and bungled out through a gap in the logs. Resigned to their fate, the Kontarian boy and the Harmeni girl fell asleep together.

I need to clarify though that they did not in fact die of thirst on that stable floor. About one hour later Yngrin, the stable's gruff overseer, tapped them on the soles of their feet with his boot and explained to them that it's fine if they want to unwind here after a ride, but now he'll be moving in the hay so they need to scram. They assented to that, their side of the conversation consisting mostly of flustered monosyllables, avoiding eye contact, and clearing of throats.

So yeah, in the end they were both of them fine.