Nathor hadn’t warned him. About Round Two. About the tortured time in the clutches of the Mistress. Hands-free. But forbidden to touch. Forbidden to look. One thing required. To suffer. To suffer in the hands of unfeeling evil. Why hadn’t he been warned?
The guards hadn’t needed instruction. After she’d done with Ka-Lan, they stepped forward and bound his wrists together, fastening them to the end of the stone. He’d not finish himself off. She’d leave him to ache. Content knowing the stud was crippled by ragings in his blood. They too had walked out, her loyal burly guards. To go release tension .. grabbing a couple of slave-girls from the kitchen. Abandoning Ka-Lan to nerve-crippling frustrations. Only slowly deflating the racing of live fires in his body .. struggling with the fevers in his nerves. Abandoned to frustration and dismay. For endless inhuman hours. Alone on a cold slab of rock.
He couldn’t escape the feeling. He couldn’t shake himself free of the chill. Inside, deep-down, chilled at the pit of his stomach. Trembling at the icy core of his soul. He’d lain trapped on that stone .. forsaken .. left with his burning needs. And yet he’d shivered.
He needed like hell to get his hands on himself .. loosen these bonds .. release that cinch on him .. and get down to some wild hand-work. Aching like fury to quell the tension that trembled out of his every pore.
But the overriding feeling was cold. A deep seated chill that gripped his very being.
“Don’t take on so …..”
Nathor smiled good-naturedly. He knew what had been going on. He’d looked after Ka-Lan’s predecessor too.
“Pace yourself. Take it in your stride.”
Nathor’s look fixed him firmly.
“You have to.”
When finally Ka-Lan was released, it seemed to take an eternity before he could find a private nook where he could beat himself off. Going mad before he could find a quiet corner. And then going out of his mind till he felt the swell of tension surging up out of him.
But nothing could quell the madness in his blood. Not just feverish from that cum-torment. He could have jerked off a hundred times, it wouldn’t have dispelled the emotions that had him in their icy grip. No amount of beating-off would compensate for the self-disgust he felt. He had been dirtied. Demeaned. Made to feel meaningless. Of no value. No amount of whacking-off could drive away that curse.
“Your first day ……”
Nathor shrugged .. sounding understanding. He had found his charge hunched together and down. Looking worn-out. He was not mocking Ka-Lan’s sense of melancholy. He understood. This young man was new to this. But he’d have to learn.
“ …. Think that is all she’s capable of ……?”
His protégé needed to harden up.
Nathor looked at his charge. Understandably the young man looked jaded. Mentally thrown by what was coming down on him. He offered Ka-Lan another bowl. Comfort-food. And he offered some kindly advice.
“The cat is enjoying playing with the mouse. Be grateful.”
Above all, Nathor knew his protégé had to keep himself attractive. The mistress easily tired. His hand tapped reassuringly on Ka-Lan’s hard-muscled forearm. The wrists still sore from the ligatures.
“When she’s had enough of you … you WILL bore her .. you CAN’T let that be …… Then your troubles really begin.”
He meant that kindly. A gentle word of caution. An incentive for the young man to revive his spirits again. Get back up on the horse. Ready for another ride. Nathor’s eyebrows rose questioning.
“Don’t think you’re the first she’s had doing this job? Do you?”
On that stone .. under her as she repeatedly rode him .. in that dismal soul-chilling room where she took him out for a canter .. worked him up into a lather .. kicked him on .. racing him into a gallop .. careening towards the cliff edge. Then .. just as he made for a life-and-death leap over the brink .. she had leapt off .. abandoned him .. repeatedly .. maddeningly. Left him floundering .. lost. Riderless. Alone.
After, as he was beating-off , mad to restore his sense of control .. he’d not managed to shake himself free of that chill. A deep-seated cold that had him tight by the guts. Still she had her hooks in him. Still it was like she had one chilling hand on his nuts .. squeezed in talon-like claws. Still he felt the other hand delving deep into him .. icy cold. Bony fingers wrapped around his heart. Chillingly real.
He’d played sex games . Many times. Trustingly letting a girl tease him .. playing him .. robbing him of control. For the fun of it. Lots of laughter. Teasing.
There hadn’t been any trace of fun on that stone. There wasn’t an ounce of laughter in that bitch. His spirit hadn’t once fluttered in a chuckle. No game playing had happened there in that dismal chamber of tortured sex.
She had her clutches on his nuts .. literally, symbolically. She had him in the grip of her icy claws. She hadn’t played. She hadn’t wanted to TOY with his studly spirit. Not interested in bending this hunk’s manly will to hers. She wanted it smashed.
She had reached deep inside him. She’d wrapped her claws around his manly spirit. And she’d squeezed. Out to crush it. Not bend it. CRUSH it. Ka-Lan had beaten-off to warm himself up. He’d jerked off hard. He’d worked up a sweat. And still he’d not shaken off that chill. Deep-down inside, chills in the core of his being. No shaking off that permafrost. Nor the fear. She was out to crush his manly soul.