A one-shot, part of the War’s End universe. For more War’s End stories please look at:
The Princess and the Rebel (F/M)
The General and the Traitor (F/M, crowd/M)
The King of Traitors (F/M)
The Soldier and the Farmhand (F/M)
The Guard and the Lieutenant
Now open for commissions.
Happy reading!
David groaned, the pulsing in his head heavy and in time with his heart. He’d drunk too much the night before, no question. His blonde hair hung in sweaty strands over his face, and with one pale hand he forced the poorly-cut bangs back over one ear. His body felt heavy, but then again, it always felt heavy after a night like the one before. The state of Walstean had accepted its position within the kingdom of Cerces, and with little fuss. It was a night to celebrate. Maybe David had hit the bottle too hard, but he was of age, if only by a year. His lieutenant, Samuel, had warned him about the long ride home, but Sam was always warning him about something or other. The man couldn’t lighten up for just a moment. His loss.
David rolled his brown eyes, rubbing his fingers along the scarred skin of his bare forearms. Samuel, like him, had spent much of his life in the gladiator arenas, but he had never fully escaped their grip, even with the old kingdom overthrown and the circuits abolished. Sam lived life constantly glancing over his shoulder. Although Sergeant Thomas Calawig had slowly begun to change that, no relationship was going to fix ten years of abuse overnight.
Though, David had to admit, it could come close. He remembered his first time waking up in Princess Elana’s bedchambers vividly. His reaction, her reaction, and how somehow the two managed not to kill each other. How the princess’ enchanting beauty wove its way into his dreams, even as he lay chained to her bedpost. How Elana decided to side with him and overthrow her stepmother, rather than torture and execute him as the queen desired.
Though there was torture. There absolutely was torture. A shiver ran up David’s spine, feeling Elana squeeze his naked side almost as if she had pinned him to her bed.
Wait.
David glanced down. He was seated on a grate, stark naked, with his legs folded neatly under him. He jerked to his feet and ran his fingers down his thigh, feeling the imprint of the grate on his scarred skin. He’d been there a while.
A lantern hung out of reach above, casting a tube of light down on him like a spotlight. He should’ve been embarrassed by his nakedness, but his dignity didn’t lie in his privacy. It was elsewhere, in how he’d ruled as a king, led Cerces to victory, and saved Elana. There was no shame in nakedness. What he didn’t recognize were the silver cuffs around his wrists.
They looked like the one he wore on his left ankle, though not nearly as ornate. Thick padding kept the metal from touching his skin, but he couldn’t slip the binding despite his best attempts. He was trapped.
But… in what? Beyond the cuffs, he couldn’t see anything else holding him back. If he wished to walk into the darkness, there was nothing preventing him, other than the niggling fear that Samuel would be the one to stumble across him in this state. Or maybe not even, as David recalled his necklace. The odd pendant was the key to his ankle cuff, as Elana had given him the choice to be imprisoned.
He grasped for the leather necklace, only to find it missing.
Fuck! How was it gone every time he truly needed it?
Cursing under his breath, David peered into the deep blackness surrounding him but found no hint of location nor escape route. So many scenarios were running through his mind: had he been kidnapped? Captured again? Overthrown? Or had Sam had enough and created some twisted version of a drunk tank just for him? David wouldn’t put it past his lieutenant; admittedly, he’d put the poor man through enough these past few weeks.
Hesitantly, David tried to step out of the spotlight, then discovered his feet were almost glued to the grate. Nothing was holding him, but—
David’s arms and legs were forced apart, yanked as if his captor had understood why he’d moved. The young king struggled but found no purchase against the bonds. There was nothing holding him except the shackles, which were slack and stretched into the darkness. Still, he groaned as his toes lost contact with the grate, his weight held by the shackles on his wrists.
There was nothing to fight against. Yet he had to fight.
“Hey!” he called into the blackness. “I don’t know who you are, but I think you know who I am! Listen, Cerces and Astal are one kingdom now! There’s no need for this!”
“Oh, there is every need for this.” A short, slight figure emerged from the darkness, a black hooded robe hiding any distinguishing features. They were female— maybe— and their voice was unnaturally high pitched, the effect of some herbs from the northern part of the kingdom. Even if David knew them, he couldn’t recognize them. Dammit! “You know why this is happening.” The figure cocked their head. “Learn from your mistakes, Your Highness.” They stepped back into the blackness.
“What? Hey, stop! What’s happening? What— gah!” David yelped as the grate slid out from under his feet. Would monsters leap up and take a bite? No, tentatively he prodded the space and only found peat moss, wet as if freshly watered. He could just reach the ground with his big toes, and he needed to, to take weight off his wrists. All he could do was wait.
That, and muse over the identity of the robed person. A woman. Probably. Someone who had a vested interest in politics— otherwise, why him? Or possibly— more likely, really— someone who had no interest in politics at all. They could have plucked some unlucky drunk off the street, a drunk who also happened to be King of Cerces.
As David considered the possibilities, the dirt under his feet had begun to shift. A vibrant green, thin tendril of some plant had emerged, reaching up to wrap around his toe. David yelped and pulled back, but the tendril retracted just as quickly into the peat moss.
Moving plants. He was still drunk. He had to be, because more tendrils were sliding from the moss.
Wide-eyed, David yanked himself away from the moss as far as he could, his scarred abs straining as he nearly folded in half. It put too much pressure on his wrists, but it was better than touching the ground, which was turning into a mass of writhing green tentacles.
Tentacles? Tendrils? What could it be? He’d heard rumors of moving plants in Astal’s northern forests, but they were notoriously rare and hard to cultivate. It would explain the moss.
Fatigue set in, his arms and stomach quivering as his strength gave. With a gasp he buckled, his bare feet landing in the mass of tentacles.
The green tendrils claimed him to the shin. With a jerk the plant yanked his ankles as far apart as it could, until the strain made him wince. David sucked in a breath, his chest heaving as the tentacles crawled ever upward.
Then the red flowers emerged from the mass, budding and blooming as he watched. He’d never described a blossom as threatening before, but this one was, with a stamen the size of his thumb and nectar drooling from its petals.
And they were gunning right for his balls.
David squealed as they made contact, the nectar slathered all over his privates and excess dripping down his thighs. The flower petals were unbelievably soft, every wrinkle making him jump. The tendrils writhed in the extra nectar, growing slick, but still had an iron hold on his ankles.
What the hell was happening?
It was like every nerve on his skin was awakening, tingling and on fire. It only got worse as the plant massaged the nectar into his skin, and he squealed again as it reached his ankles and the soles of his feet. He was already so ticklish. The cool air almost burned. And yet the drooling flowers were everywhere and unrelenting.
“What is happening?” he cursed between gasps. “I am King David of Cerces! Release me!” But he was yelling at a plant, one that was overloading his mind with the feeling of the cool night air against his skin. He continued to battle it, but even fighting the fuzzy tentacles made David yelp and reel. Not only that, but the center of the plants was yellow, glistened with nectar in the moonlight, and most concerningly, oddly phallic.
The tendrils had swallowed him to the knees, squeezing his legs and making him squeal as they found sensitive spots. More tendrils claimed his hips and drooled on his torso, turning the ticklish scars on his chest into lightning rods of sensation. A tendril glanced the wide mat of a scar claiming his navel, jerked as it registered David’s frantic, helpless squeal, and instead plastered itself to his side, writhing in nectar as flowers continued to gravitate toward David’s member.
The plant continued to climb David’s form. The young king’s fierce resistance dissolved into weak struggles punctuated by uncontrollable giggles. Yet as the plant reached his neck, the worst was yet to come.
The suckers lapping at David’s member had made little progress beyond an intense erection. Instead, the plant parted around David’s ass, the flowers grouping up as a tentacle parted David’s lower cheeks.
He strained to look back but couldn’t around the tentacles. “No, no no nonono!”
But nectar was already drooling down his asscrack and over his rosebud. A flower had ventured forward and pressed its stamen against David’s back door, the pressure firm but unrelenting.
“No, no, AH!” David’s body gave in, the stamen hitting something deep within him that made him arch his back. His eyes rolled back as the flowers continued, the nectar electrifying him with every thrust. Such a violation, but it felt so good—
The flowers switched out, replacing itself with one that could hit that spot harder. David grimaced and let the plant have its way. But the awful creature wasn’t done yet.
The sucker worked away at David’s member, finally drawing an orgasm out of the hapless royal. He screamed and fell limp, but the plant continued on, the flowers massaging his sensitive chest while one continued to fuck his ass.
“Ahh!” He gasped, but no longer had the strength to fight the tendrils. “Nah! NAH! NAHAHAHAHAHA! STAHAHAHAHAP! PLEHEHEHESE! AAIH!”
At long last, his eyes rolled back and he slumped, head hitting the tentacle under his chin heavily.
The robed figure stepped out of the shadows. They spat a green pulp onto the ground, then lowered their hood, letting raven hair spill all over their shoulders. “Oh, thank gods. That shit tastes awful.” Elana turned. “What do you think, Sam? Seen enough?”
“Plenty.” David’s lieutenant stepped out from behind her. His dark hair fell over his olive forehead and into his eyes. “You’re right. It’s a good replacement. Can’t beg for mercy from a plant, though Dave sure tried.”
“So we can finally destroy the dungeons?” Elana asked excitedly. “No more torture pits?”
“We can.” Samuel nodded with a smile. “And those little side effects will help in the long run too.” He glanced at her. “Want to free the king now?”
“Right, that’s right.” Elana fumbled, pulling a flask of green liquid from the folds of her robe as Samuel released the chains holding David up. The plant, which still lapped away at the fuzz in David’s armpits, almost screamed as she sprayed it, retreating from David’s body. As the tendrils returned to the peat moss, Samuel pulled the pot from under the floor.
Elana turned, holding out the flask. “Do you need the herbicide?”
“I’m good.” Samuel grinned. “Plant’s well-fed. Plus I showered in that stuff a few hours ago.”
“All right.” She chuckled. “Good luck.”
“I’m just going to put it with the others. Are you okay?” He eyed Elana as she hefted David over one shoulder.
“Just fine.” She winked at him. “See you at home.”
“Don’t leave him in too much of a mess.” Samuel turned on his heel. “We have another annexation ceremony in two days!”
“Yeah, yeah.” Elana threw a robe over David. “He’ll be fine.”
***
“Huh?” David’s head pounded, but the feeling was vanishing. Just a hangover then. And a really weird dream. But his skin still felt so electrified. Even the feeling of his key pendant rolling off his chest sent a chill down his spine.
“Morning, rebel.” Elana smiled at him. “Rough night?”
“You can say that. Wait.” David tried to hug her, but found his arms stuck, in soft cuffs chained to each post of the bed. “Princess? What’s going on?”
“Simple. Your drinking habits have gotten out of hand, and Sam agrees.”
“What?” David fought the ties, but as usual, got nowhere. He was still nude under the comforter. “Was that you last night?”
“Clever as always, rebel. You came back here reeking of booze again, and I had a better idea of what to do with you.” Her smile grew predatory. “See, a few teams brought back an interesting plant specimen from the northern forest, and Sam figured we could use it.”
“Use it how?”
“To replace the dungeons. Use it to deal with prisoners instead of brutes cutting people with flaming knives.” She traced one of the scars on David’s arm, making him shiver. “Because that plant feeds on people.”
“You fed me to a plant?” he snapped.
“I did,” she admitted. “It ate your sweat, tears, and whatever it could coax out of you.”
“Agh,” David muttered. “I can still feel it on me. In me. Those damned flowers…”
“Well, that’s the point.” She tossed the blanket back and straddled his waist, making him grimace. “It’s going to make sure you never make a drunken fool out of yourself again.”
“What? No! I promise I won’t— NAH! I PROHOHOHOHOHOMISEHEHEH! ELAHAHAHAHANAHAHAHA! NAHAHAHA!”
“Nope. Not good enough.” Elana continued to claw her fingers down his sides, grinding her ass against his waist. David gasped, forming fists inside the cuffs, and made an expression she was too familiar with.
“CLOHOHOHOSE! IHI-M CLOHOHOSE!”
“Sure feels that way, huh?” She slid down his hips onto his thighs, his erection bobbing the whole way. Elana licked his member long and slow, running her tongue around her lips to catch any extra precum. Her other hand still danced on his stomach. “That’s the other thing about the plant. Its side effects.”
“WHAHAHAHAHAT?”
“You already feel it, don’t you? How sensitive you are?” She smiled and licked his member’s head, making him lunge. “This lasts weeks.”
“NOHOHOHO!”
“And better yet, you’re so close right now, aren’t you?” She flicked his rock-hard dick. “Well, no matter what I do, you won’t get off.”
“WHAHAHAHAHAT?” Tears leaked from David’s eyes.
“Our studies have shown it lasts about a month on average. Could be shorter. Could be longer.” She took him into her mouth again. David lunged against the restraints, trying everything to get off in her mouth, but she was right. He was on the precipice of the biggest orgasm he’d ever had and for some reason couldn’t get over the cliff. This, for weeks?
“Now, are you ever going to come home covered in beer again?” She dug into his hipbones, her fingers finding the sensitive scar on his side. He shook his head frantically, trying to find air.
“NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
“Because if you do, I’ll throw you in a room with that plant again and we can start this all over. Understand?”
“YEHEHEHEHEHEHEHES PRINCEHEHEHEHEHESS! I PROHOHOMISE! I prohohomise. I prohomise… prohohomise…” David continued giggling long after Elana let up. She cocked her head as his eyes rolled back. When he slid back into unconsciousness, she bit her lip. Had she gone too far?
No. Not yet, at least. And given how often David had walked in drunk, she would keep doing this for a while. But he’d learn his lesson soon enough. How was the King of Cerces going to do his job while constantly on the edge of orgasm? She wasn’t sure, but David was stubborn enough to find a way. Regardless, it would be entertaining, especially when the rebel came back to her quarters a compliant tickle pet.
A smile quirked her lips. This would be fun.
The Princess and the Rebel (F/M)
The General and the Traitor (F/M, crowd/M)
The King of Traitors (F/M)
The Soldier and the Farmhand (F/M)
The Guard and the Lieutenant
Now open for commissions.
Happy reading!
David groaned, the pulsing in his head heavy and in time with his heart. He’d drunk too much the night before, no question. His blonde hair hung in sweaty strands over his face, and with one pale hand he forced the poorly-cut bangs back over one ear. His body felt heavy, but then again, it always felt heavy after a night like the one before. The state of Walstean had accepted its position within the kingdom of Cerces, and with little fuss. It was a night to celebrate. Maybe David had hit the bottle too hard, but he was of age, if only by a year. His lieutenant, Samuel, had warned him about the long ride home, but Sam was always warning him about something or other. The man couldn’t lighten up for just a moment. His loss.
David rolled his brown eyes, rubbing his fingers along the scarred skin of his bare forearms. Samuel, like him, had spent much of his life in the gladiator arenas, but he had never fully escaped their grip, even with the old kingdom overthrown and the circuits abolished. Sam lived life constantly glancing over his shoulder. Although Sergeant Thomas Calawig had slowly begun to change that, no relationship was going to fix ten years of abuse overnight.
Though, David had to admit, it could come close. He remembered his first time waking up in Princess Elana’s bedchambers vividly. His reaction, her reaction, and how somehow the two managed not to kill each other. How the princess’ enchanting beauty wove its way into his dreams, even as he lay chained to her bedpost. How Elana decided to side with him and overthrow her stepmother, rather than torture and execute him as the queen desired.
Though there was torture. There absolutely was torture. A shiver ran up David’s spine, feeling Elana squeeze his naked side almost as if she had pinned him to her bed.
Wait.
David glanced down. He was seated on a grate, stark naked, with his legs folded neatly under him. He jerked to his feet and ran his fingers down his thigh, feeling the imprint of the grate on his scarred skin. He’d been there a while.
A lantern hung out of reach above, casting a tube of light down on him like a spotlight. He should’ve been embarrassed by his nakedness, but his dignity didn’t lie in his privacy. It was elsewhere, in how he’d ruled as a king, led Cerces to victory, and saved Elana. There was no shame in nakedness. What he didn’t recognize were the silver cuffs around his wrists.
They looked like the one he wore on his left ankle, though not nearly as ornate. Thick padding kept the metal from touching his skin, but he couldn’t slip the binding despite his best attempts. He was trapped.
But… in what? Beyond the cuffs, he couldn’t see anything else holding him back. If he wished to walk into the darkness, there was nothing preventing him, other than the niggling fear that Samuel would be the one to stumble across him in this state. Or maybe not even, as David recalled his necklace. The odd pendant was the key to his ankle cuff, as Elana had given him the choice to be imprisoned.
He grasped for the leather necklace, only to find it missing.
Fuck! How was it gone every time he truly needed it?
Cursing under his breath, David peered into the deep blackness surrounding him but found no hint of location nor escape route. So many scenarios were running through his mind: had he been kidnapped? Captured again? Overthrown? Or had Sam had enough and created some twisted version of a drunk tank just for him? David wouldn’t put it past his lieutenant; admittedly, he’d put the poor man through enough these past few weeks.
Hesitantly, David tried to step out of the spotlight, then discovered his feet were almost glued to the grate. Nothing was holding him, but—
David’s arms and legs were forced apart, yanked as if his captor had understood why he’d moved. The young king struggled but found no purchase against the bonds. There was nothing holding him except the shackles, which were slack and stretched into the darkness. Still, he groaned as his toes lost contact with the grate, his weight held by the shackles on his wrists.
There was nothing to fight against. Yet he had to fight.
“Hey!” he called into the blackness. “I don’t know who you are, but I think you know who I am! Listen, Cerces and Astal are one kingdom now! There’s no need for this!”
“Oh, there is every need for this.” A short, slight figure emerged from the darkness, a black hooded robe hiding any distinguishing features. They were female— maybe— and their voice was unnaturally high pitched, the effect of some herbs from the northern part of the kingdom. Even if David knew them, he couldn’t recognize them. Dammit! “You know why this is happening.” The figure cocked their head. “Learn from your mistakes, Your Highness.” They stepped back into the blackness.
“What? Hey, stop! What’s happening? What— gah!” David yelped as the grate slid out from under his feet. Would monsters leap up and take a bite? No, tentatively he prodded the space and only found peat moss, wet as if freshly watered. He could just reach the ground with his big toes, and he needed to, to take weight off his wrists. All he could do was wait.
That, and muse over the identity of the robed person. A woman. Probably. Someone who had a vested interest in politics— otherwise, why him? Or possibly— more likely, really— someone who had no interest in politics at all. They could have plucked some unlucky drunk off the street, a drunk who also happened to be King of Cerces.
As David considered the possibilities, the dirt under his feet had begun to shift. A vibrant green, thin tendril of some plant had emerged, reaching up to wrap around his toe. David yelped and pulled back, but the tendril retracted just as quickly into the peat moss.
Moving plants. He was still drunk. He had to be, because more tendrils were sliding from the moss.
Wide-eyed, David yanked himself away from the moss as far as he could, his scarred abs straining as he nearly folded in half. It put too much pressure on his wrists, but it was better than touching the ground, which was turning into a mass of writhing green tentacles.
Tentacles? Tendrils? What could it be? He’d heard rumors of moving plants in Astal’s northern forests, but they were notoriously rare and hard to cultivate. It would explain the moss.
Fatigue set in, his arms and stomach quivering as his strength gave. With a gasp he buckled, his bare feet landing in the mass of tentacles.
The green tendrils claimed him to the shin. With a jerk the plant yanked his ankles as far apart as it could, until the strain made him wince. David sucked in a breath, his chest heaving as the tentacles crawled ever upward.
Then the red flowers emerged from the mass, budding and blooming as he watched. He’d never described a blossom as threatening before, but this one was, with a stamen the size of his thumb and nectar drooling from its petals.
And they were gunning right for his balls.
David squealed as they made contact, the nectar slathered all over his privates and excess dripping down his thighs. The flower petals were unbelievably soft, every wrinkle making him jump. The tendrils writhed in the extra nectar, growing slick, but still had an iron hold on his ankles.
What the hell was happening?
It was like every nerve on his skin was awakening, tingling and on fire. It only got worse as the plant massaged the nectar into his skin, and he squealed again as it reached his ankles and the soles of his feet. He was already so ticklish. The cool air almost burned. And yet the drooling flowers were everywhere and unrelenting.
“What is happening?” he cursed between gasps. “I am King David of Cerces! Release me!” But he was yelling at a plant, one that was overloading his mind with the feeling of the cool night air against his skin. He continued to battle it, but even fighting the fuzzy tentacles made David yelp and reel. Not only that, but the center of the plants was yellow, glistened with nectar in the moonlight, and most concerningly, oddly phallic.
The tendrils had swallowed him to the knees, squeezing his legs and making him squeal as they found sensitive spots. More tendrils claimed his hips and drooled on his torso, turning the ticklish scars on his chest into lightning rods of sensation. A tendril glanced the wide mat of a scar claiming his navel, jerked as it registered David’s frantic, helpless squeal, and instead plastered itself to his side, writhing in nectar as flowers continued to gravitate toward David’s member.
The plant continued to climb David’s form. The young king’s fierce resistance dissolved into weak struggles punctuated by uncontrollable giggles. Yet as the plant reached his neck, the worst was yet to come.
The suckers lapping at David’s member had made little progress beyond an intense erection. Instead, the plant parted around David’s ass, the flowers grouping up as a tentacle parted David’s lower cheeks.
He strained to look back but couldn’t around the tentacles. “No, no no nonono!”
But nectar was already drooling down his asscrack and over his rosebud. A flower had ventured forward and pressed its stamen against David’s back door, the pressure firm but unrelenting.
“No, no, AH!” David’s body gave in, the stamen hitting something deep within him that made him arch his back. His eyes rolled back as the flowers continued, the nectar electrifying him with every thrust. Such a violation, but it felt so good—
The flowers switched out, replacing itself with one that could hit that spot harder. David grimaced and let the plant have its way. But the awful creature wasn’t done yet.
The sucker worked away at David’s member, finally drawing an orgasm out of the hapless royal. He screamed and fell limp, but the plant continued on, the flowers massaging his sensitive chest while one continued to fuck his ass.
“Ahh!” He gasped, but no longer had the strength to fight the tendrils. “Nah! NAH! NAHAHAHAHAHA! STAHAHAHAHAP! PLEHEHEHESE! AAIH!”
At long last, his eyes rolled back and he slumped, head hitting the tentacle under his chin heavily.
The robed figure stepped out of the shadows. They spat a green pulp onto the ground, then lowered their hood, letting raven hair spill all over their shoulders. “Oh, thank gods. That shit tastes awful.” Elana turned. “What do you think, Sam? Seen enough?”
“Plenty.” David’s lieutenant stepped out from behind her. His dark hair fell over his olive forehead and into his eyes. “You’re right. It’s a good replacement. Can’t beg for mercy from a plant, though Dave sure tried.”
“So we can finally destroy the dungeons?” Elana asked excitedly. “No more torture pits?”
“We can.” Samuel nodded with a smile. “And those little side effects will help in the long run too.” He glanced at her. “Want to free the king now?”
“Right, that’s right.” Elana fumbled, pulling a flask of green liquid from the folds of her robe as Samuel released the chains holding David up. The plant, which still lapped away at the fuzz in David’s armpits, almost screamed as she sprayed it, retreating from David’s body. As the tendrils returned to the peat moss, Samuel pulled the pot from under the floor.
Elana turned, holding out the flask. “Do you need the herbicide?”
“I’m good.” Samuel grinned. “Plant’s well-fed. Plus I showered in that stuff a few hours ago.”
“All right.” She chuckled. “Good luck.”
“I’m just going to put it with the others. Are you okay?” He eyed Elana as she hefted David over one shoulder.
“Just fine.” She winked at him. “See you at home.”
“Don’t leave him in too much of a mess.” Samuel turned on his heel. “We have another annexation ceremony in two days!”
“Yeah, yeah.” Elana threw a robe over David. “He’ll be fine.”
***
“Huh?” David’s head pounded, but the feeling was vanishing. Just a hangover then. And a really weird dream. But his skin still felt so electrified. Even the feeling of his key pendant rolling off his chest sent a chill down his spine.
“Morning, rebel.” Elana smiled at him. “Rough night?”
“You can say that. Wait.” David tried to hug her, but found his arms stuck, in soft cuffs chained to each post of the bed. “Princess? What’s going on?”
“Simple. Your drinking habits have gotten out of hand, and Sam agrees.”
“What?” David fought the ties, but as usual, got nowhere. He was still nude under the comforter. “Was that you last night?”
“Clever as always, rebel. You came back here reeking of booze again, and I had a better idea of what to do with you.” Her smile grew predatory. “See, a few teams brought back an interesting plant specimen from the northern forest, and Sam figured we could use it.”
“Use it how?”
“To replace the dungeons. Use it to deal with prisoners instead of brutes cutting people with flaming knives.” She traced one of the scars on David’s arm, making him shiver. “Because that plant feeds on people.”
“You fed me to a plant?” he snapped.
“I did,” she admitted. “It ate your sweat, tears, and whatever it could coax out of you.”
“Agh,” David muttered. “I can still feel it on me. In me. Those damned flowers…”
“Well, that’s the point.” She tossed the blanket back and straddled his waist, making him grimace. “It’s going to make sure you never make a drunken fool out of yourself again.”
“What? No! I promise I won’t— NAH! I PROHOHOHOHOHOMISEHEHEH! ELAHAHAHAHANAHAHAHA! NAHAHAHA!”
“Nope. Not good enough.” Elana continued to claw her fingers down his sides, grinding her ass against his waist. David gasped, forming fists inside the cuffs, and made an expression she was too familiar with.
“CLOHOHOHOSE! IHI-M CLOHOHOSE!”
“Sure feels that way, huh?” She slid down his hips onto his thighs, his erection bobbing the whole way. Elana licked his member long and slow, running her tongue around her lips to catch any extra precum. Her other hand still danced on his stomach. “That’s the other thing about the plant. Its side effects.”
“WHAHAHAHAHAT?”
“You already feel it, don’t you? How sensitive you are?” She smiled and licked his member’s head, making him lunge. “This lasts weeks.”
“NOHOHOHO!”
“And better yet, you’re so close right now, aren’t you?” She flicked his rock-hard dick. “Well, no matter what I do, you won’t get off.”
“WHAHAHAHAHAT?” Tears leaked from David’s eyes.
“Our studies have shown it lasts about a month on average. Could be shorter. Could be longer.” She took him into her mouth again. David lunged against the restraints, trying everything to get off in her mouth, but she was right. He was on the precipice of the biggest orgasm he’d ever had and for some reason couldn’t get over the cliff. This, for weeks?
“Now, are you ever going to come home covered in beer again?” She dug into his hipbones, her fingers finding the sensitive scar on his side. He shook his head frantically, trying to find air.
“NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
“Because if you do, I’ll throw you in a room with that plant again and we can start this all over. Understand?”
“YEHEHEHEHEHEHEHES PRINCEHEHEHEHEHESS! I PROHOHOMISE! I prohohomise. I prohomise… prohohomise…” David continued giggling long after Elana let up. She cocked her head as his eyes rolled back. When he slid back into unconsciousness, she bit her lip. Had she gone too far?
No. Not yet, at least. And given how often David had walked in drunk, she would keep doing this for a while. But he’d learn his lesson soon enough. How was the King of Cerces going to do his job while constantly on the edge of orgasm? She wasn’t sure, but David was stubborn enough to find a way. Regardless, it would be entertaining, especially when the rebel came back to her quarters a compliant tickle pet.
A smile quirked her lips. This would be fun.
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