I’m not one for telling tales, but I guess this has to be told. It’s not a heroic tale about legends. And it’s not a tale of dark deeds done to a poor victim, who didn’t heed the warnings of evil. But, it is a tale of what happens some times when someone is misunderstood. A lesson must be taught of what happens, because of that misunderstanding.
Picture a little boy sitting in a garden. He’s about nine or so. On his back, slightly dust streaked from playing with his siblings, were a pair of wings. Under the layer of dust, one could almost make out the dark gray coloring of them. He giggled softly, as he gently brushed his fingers on the petals of the rose in his hand.
Without a thought, he shifted his body to protect the flower, as his brother slid to a stop next to him. "Whacha doing?"
He looked at his brother, who was panting from his rough housing with their other siblings. His black hair and gray wings, equally dust streaked. "Nothing."
The brother shifted his head back and forth to see what the little boy had in his hand, "What’s that?"
"One of Papa’s roses," the little boy pulled the flower close to his chest, guarding it.
"Let me see!" the brother reached for the rose.
"Khoral, don’t! You’ll hurt it!" the little boy pulled away.
"Rhoryn, I just want to see it!"
Rhoryn hesitantly held out the flower to his brother.
Khoral watched the rose in fascination. His hand reached out to brush the rose petals lightly. He pulled his hand back whimpering in pain.
Rhoryn looked down at the flower in alarm. "Khoral!" he whined, when he saw the bruised petals of the rose. "I told you, you would hurt it!" In his anger, Rhoryn reached out, pulling his brother’s hair.
Khoral yelled in pain, running across the garden, crying, to their mother, who was sitting on one of the white marble benches, scattered around the garden.
"I didn’t pull that hard, you big baby." Rhoryn whispered. He brushed a finger tip along the petals of the rose, focusing his power. He smiled in delight, as the rose was restored to its original beauty, the petals faintly flickering like fire.
Rhoryn watched the little girl playing amongst the fire roses in Lady Despair’s garden. "Are you sure, Mistress?" He looked up at the tall woman standing next to him.
"Yes, my little darling," she reached down, gently brushing her fingers on his cheek. Her pale features contrasted sharply with the dark russet color of her robes. She smiled in delight at the beauty of her latest toy. She was going to enjoy training him to her satisfaction.
Rhoryn looked back at the girl, confused, "Why?"
The woman chuckled softly, "Because my lovely, it is the nature of the game. Every Master needs a slave to play with. Just as you are mine to play with, little Rhoryn. She shall be your slave to play with as a Master. Now, go ask her."
"But," Rhoryn started to protest.
"Do it!" she ordered.
Rhoryn winced in pain, as he felt the sharp stab of Lady Ghillan’s fingers digging into his shoulder. "Yes, Mistress," he whispered. Slowly, so as not to startle the little girl, Rhoryn walked up to her.
She shyly glanced up at him, as he knelt before her. "Hello," her voice, barely above a whisper.
"Hello." Rhoryn glanced over his shoulder at Lady Ghillan, who was nodding in encouragement. He rustled his wings, agitated. He pulled his head to the side, freeing his black hair from where it was caught in his wings.
He swallowed nervously, "What’s your name?"
"Rhysalla," the little girl answered.
"That’s a pretty name." He looked down at the fire rose in her hand. "Do you want... Do you like the roses?"
The little girl looked up at him, startled. "Yes, I will play with you, Rhoryn."
For a moment, Rhoryn stared at Rhysalla’s dark brown eyes, then he flinched back as he realized what she had said. "You will?" he whispered.
Rhysalla smiled shyly again, "Yes, Master."
Rhoryn hesitantly held his shaking hand out to the little girl before him.
Rhysalla took the offered hand, squeezing it in confident encouragement.
The two children followed Lady Ghillan, Demi Goddess of Pain off to play. As the children left, a figure stepped away from one of the trees in the garden. "Why I outta..." growling in anger.
He stepped forward, but stopped as he felt a hand on his arm. "Peace Husband."
Ghalis looked down at the pale blond beauty of his wife, "Peace? Peace?!" he almost roared outraged. "Did you see what just happened?!"
Jissanna laughed softly, "Yes I did, and it is nothing more than what you did to gain my affections, my love. I seem to remember you enticing me away like that in our youth."
Ghalis had the grace to blush, looking down at his hooves, "You are right. It’s just... Damn it! Jissanna, it’s Ghillan! And our little girl!"
"And Lord Ninrath’s son," she replied softly. "Do you honestly think he would have let that happen, if he didn’t think it was ment to be?"
Ghalis balled his fists, growling in frustration, "You are right." He hung his head, taking a deep breath.
Jissanna gathered her husband into her arms. "We serve Lady Despair, we both know what that means. As do our children. We have no secrets from them."
"If he hurts her...," Ghalis growled again.
Jissanna laughed softly, at her husband’s protectiveness. "He will hurt her. He is with Lady Ghillan. You served a goddess of pain, you know what that means." Gently, Jissanna brushed her hand through her husband’s brown hair, "If it will make you feel better, I will monitor them, and make sure that it does not get too far out of hand for our daughter to deal with. You are right about one thing."
Ghalis laughed softly, holding his wife close, "And that is?"
"She is our little girl," Jissanna whispered softly, resting her head on her husband’s chest.
"That she is."
Rhoryn chuckled softly, running a finger from the base of Rhysalla’s neck down between her breasts, across the slight bulge of her stomach. He let his hand rest briefly on her stomach, feeling the glow of life inside. "Are you happy, my pretty?"
Rhysalla moved her head gently to the side, sighing softly.
Rhoryn laughed, "I’ll take that as a yes." He leaned forward to lightly nip her ear. He gently blew her curly brown hair aside to get at her neck, just above the collar, to nuzzle her.
Rhysalla giggled, squirming, as he tickled her. She pulled gently at the restraints on her wrists.
Rhoryn chuckled, "Easy now, don’t want to do anything to hurt our little one." Rhoryn looked down at the beauty of her dark brown eyes. "I love you, ‘Salla," he whispered.
"And I love you, Master."
Rhoryn sighed, his shoulders slumping. "There will never be a time, when you will call me by my name, is there?"
Rhysalla looked away from the pain in her Master’s gray eyes, "You know I can’t do that. We have been Master and slave for too long."
Rhoryn removed the restraints from Rhysalla, with a weary sigh. He sat up, "I don’t know if I can do this any more, love."
Rhysalla stared at her Master in astonishment, "What do you mean?"
"I’ve crossed the line, ‘Salla! I love you! We’ve both crossed it! Because I know you love me too. How can we keep going like this, when we love each other?" he asked softly.
Rhysalla brushed her fingers through the wings on her lover’s back, "Because we know no other way, Master Rhoryn."
Rhoryn sighed leaning back into Rhysalla’s gentle touch on his wings. He felt himself responding to the rush of pleasure the wings were inducing in him. He growled, playfully pushing Rhysalla back down on the bed. "True, now where were we?"
Rhysalla traced a finger along the slightly worn leather of the restraints, he had recently removed. "I believe my Master was seeking his pleasure with me?" She looked up at him, a wicked gleam in her brown eyes.
"So, I was." He growled in frustration at the sound of the knock on their door. "What?!" he barked. "I swear, I’m going to skin someone for this interruption," softly to Rhysalla.
The door opened slightly, "Milord, the Mistress requests your attention."
Rhoryn grabbed the nearest thing at hand, tossing it across the room, to slam into the hard wood of the door. "Damn her! I will be there, when I get there!" Rhoryn lightly brushed his fingers on Rhysalla’s cheek, "I’m sorry little one, I will have to take my pleasure later," he told her regretfully.
Rhysalla watched her Master, as he climbed from the bed, grabbing his clothes. "Aren’t you going to dress properly?" she asked in astonishment, as he pulled his clothes on.
Rhoryn looked down at his worn leather pants and vest, "Right now, she doesn’t deserve that much respect," he growled, as he left the room.
"Oh Rhoryn," Rhysalla whispered, as she saw the restraints at the base of the door, realizing that was what her Master had thrown in his anger.
Rhoryn walked into the grand hall that doubled as Ghillan’s personal torture chamber. He knelt before the dais she was resting on. "You sent for me, Mistress."
Ghillan smiled in delight at the tension she sensed in her lovely toy, "Come here, slave."
Rhoryn flinched, he looked up at Ghillan’s pale twisted beauty. "Excuse me?" he asked, stone faced.
Ghillan leaned forward, her well shaped breasts, straining the russet fabric of her robes. "You heard me, Rhoryn. Come here, slave," a hint of command in her voice.
Rhoryn struggled against the compulsion to come closer to his chosen goddess. He gasped as he felt a sharp pain across his back.
"That was for your disobedience. Now, come here!" Ghillan pointed with a long graceful finger to the tiles in front of her.
Rhoryn growled, giving in to the compulsion. He stiffly walked over to the spot Ghillan pointed too.
He gasped again in pain, as he gave in to her command again.
Ghillan waited until he was on his knees, before swinging her hand out in a hard back handed slap across Rhoryn’s face. "That is for disobeying me," she cooed. Rhoryn’s head whipped to the side, blood trailing from the side of his lip. "Do not forget, I own you, little half god. You are my slave first, before you are Master to that little girl you enjoy so much."
"Restrain him!" she ordered to the two attendants, at the side of the dais.
They rushed forward to do her bidding, not wishing to risk her displeasure. "I am sorry Master Rhoryn," one of them whispered, as he secured a chain and manacle on Rhoryn’s wrist.
"How dare you!" Ghillan glared at the attendant.
The attendant paled in fright, kneeling. "Forgive me, Mistress!"
"No," Ghillan smiled in answer. She waved off the other attendant, from securing Rhoryn completely. "Rhoryn, kill him."
Rhoryn regretfully, reached out, snapping the attendant’s neck.
"There is no mercy in Pain. Pleasure, yes. Mercy, never," Ghillan purred.
"What do you want from me, woman!" Rhoryn demanded.
Ghillan stood up, her robes rustling, like the sound of dead leaves. "I want you in my bed. What else would I want from my pretty slave."
Rhoryn looked down at the manacle and chain on his wrist. "Release me, and I will share your bed," He flushed as soon as he said that, realizing how stupid it sounded.
Ghillan laughed, "No. I want you just the way you are now." She walked behind him, waving off the rest of her attendants, until they were alone. "And now, lover," she gently brushed her fingers through his wings, triggering a rushing flow of pleasure through his body, "You are mine."
Rhoryn took his goddess in his arms, loving her with all the passion that he had. "You are such a bitch," he chuckled softly.
Ghillan back handed him in anger again.
Rhoryn traced his finger down the side of his mouth. He looked at the blood on his finger. He traced the bloody fingertip down the side of Ghillan’s cheek. "Is this what you want, Mistress?"
Ghillan took the finger, licking the last traces of blood off. "It’s a start," chuckling. She pulled him towards her, still lightly brushing his wings. She kissed him, biting his lip until it bled.
From that point, Rhoryn lost all sense of time, as he and his Mistress traded pleasure and pain at each other’s touch.
Ghillan lightly traced her long fingers along the newly healing scars on Rhoryn’s chest. "Do you still want her?"
"Who Mistress?" Rhoryn asked in wonder as he ran his hand through her pale silver hair.
"Your little slave girl? The one I trained you on," Ghillan sat up a bit in the bed, leaning her head on her hand.
Rhoryn looked at her blankly, not comprehending what she was talking about, "I have a slave girl?"
Ghillan sat up all the way, clapping her hands, "Yes, you do."
The door to her personal chambers opened, admitting a troop of slaves pushing a large cage on wheels into the room. Sitting dejected in the cage, chains securing her in place was Rhysalla. She looked up, grasping the bars, as she saw Rhoryn laying on Ghillan’s bed.
"Granted, it has been a few weeks since you last saw her, my darling. But there she is." Ghillan grinned in delight, at the total lack of recognition on Rhoryn’s face, "Go ahead, go take a look at her."
Rhoryn climbed off his Mistress’ bed, to pad over to the cage. He knelt in front of the cage to look at the tiny pregnant girl in the cage. "Hello."
"Hello, Master," Rhysalla whispered softly.
Rhoryn pulled back, confused. "Why do you call me that?! I’m not your Master!"
Ghillan gestured slightly, and the chains fell with a clinking clattering sound to the floor of the cage. "She is being disobedient, Rhoryn, punish her."
Rhoryn opened the cage, pulling Rhysalla roughly out. He shoved her across the room. Rhysalla caught herself on the edge of Ghillan’s bed. She gasped, wrapping her arms protectively around her waist. "Master, please," she flinched from his upraised hand.
Rhoryn lowered his hand, looking down at the poor girl before him, "I can’t."
"Why not?" Ghillan demanded.
Rhoryn looked down at Rhysalla, "I don’t see a reason to punish her."
"Damn you, Rhoryn!" Ghillan stepped off the bed, standing over the terrified girl. She reached out, grabbing Rhysalla by the hair. "Where shall we start, little girl?" she purred, Your Master is not cooperating all of the sudden."
Rhysalla looked over at Rhoryn, eyes wide in terror.
"Master?" she whispered, pleading.
Rhoryn looked away, as Ghillan started beating Rhysalla.
The demi goddess of pain pulled Rhoryn down by the scruff of his neck, to make him look at her handy work. Rhoryn looked down at the broken bloody girl before him. "Hello Rhysalla," he whispered, gently brushing his hand on her bloody brown hair.
"Rhoryn, it hurts," she whispered.
Rhoryn gathered her up into his arms, "Hush now." He rested his cheek on the top of her head. Like with the rose, he focused his power, sending healing energy through her body. "I’m so sorry, ‘Salla," he whispered.
"It’s okay, love," she whispered back, hand on his cheek. She closed her eyes, slumping against him.
Rhoryn caught his breath in a moment of panic, thinking that Rhysalla was dead. He frantically reached along her neck, checking for the feel of blood moving in her veins. He sighed in relief as he felt the slow steady flow. He gently lifted the girl up, placing her on the bed. "Why?"
Ghillan stared at the quiet, but powerful scene before her, "Why what, slave?"
"Why did you do this to her?" Rhoryn whispered hoarsely.
Ghillan chuckled, "Why to teach you a lesson in pain of course."
Rhoryn smoothed back Rhysalla’s hair, "I see." He turned to face the cage that had recently held the girl on the bed. "Well, I don’t like it!" He reached for his power again, focusing it on the cage before him.
Ghillan stepped back, startled as it slowly melted and burned until it was a puddle of molten metal. "What are you doing?!" she demanded.
Rhoryn grabbed Ghillan’s wrist, pulling her towards him. "Teaching you what you taught me." He let go of her wrist, to back hand her across the face.
Ghillan put her hand on her cheek, staring at her creation. She frantically reached towards his wings trying to regain her control of him.
"Oh no you don’t, Mistress," Rhoryn smiled sweetly, as he broke her wrist. "I am removing all the hooks you put in me."
Rhysalla woke up with a start to feel a body slam into her. She opened her eyes to see the bloody mess that was Rhoryn, slowly push himself up from the bed, to stand swaying before his goddess. Rhysalla’s eyes widened in fear, as she saw that Ghillan was just as wounded as Rhoryn.
"Give up, half godling," Ghillan swayed, trying to keep track of where Rhoryn was.
Rhoryn came up behind her, wrapping an arm around her neck. "Get it right, my goddess," he whispered in her ear. "I’m not just any half god. I’m Ninrath’s son, one of many in his horde of children. And so help me, if you come near either me or Rhysalla again, I’m going to rip your head off, and use it for a chamber pot." He pulled back, twisting Ghillan’s head so she was facing him, almost breaking her neck. "I’m no longer yours, Ghillan. I thank you for creating me into the psycho that I am. See you around, Goddess." He let her go, shoving her into the bed post.
Ghillan grabbed the post, steadying herself, "And where will you go now, my darling?"
Rhoryn winced, shrugging, as he gently picked up Rhysalla, "You mean besides getting as far away from you as I can get? I don’t know. I guess I’ll have to make my own way. Exhilarating, isn’t it?"
"This isn’t over, Rhoryn," Ghillan hissed in pain.
Rhoryn looked down at his love in his arms, "No, it isn’t." He wrapped his wings around the both of them, before porting them out of Ghillan’s bed chamber.
Rhoryn fell on the bed, with a muffled scream of pain, trying to place himself between Rhysalla and the bed. "Sweet Goddesses, this hurts," he whispered.
Rhysalla quickly moved from on top of Rhoryn, to check his injuries. She stared down at the battered broken body of her lover before her.
"’Salla, I want to apologize for what...," Rhoryn stopped what he was going to say, as Rhysalla’s fingers gently touched his lips.
"Hush, it is okay, I’m a slave, remember?"
Rhoryn weakly reached for the collar around her neck, removing it, "Not if I can help it. We are done, love. No more. You are Rhysalla, and I am Rhoryn. No Masters. No slaves."
With a giggle, Rhysalla pulled the collar out of his grasp, putting it back on. "Silly Rhoryn, we are not done. And there will be more. You are my master, and I am your slave."
"But, I let you get hurt. You were hurt because of me!" Rhoryn protested, trying to sit up. He hissed in pain, his eyes crossing as he felt the room spin around him.
Rhysalla gently shoved him back on the bed, "Master, please, don’t move. You will only injure yourself more."
Rhoryn reached up, touching her cheek gently. He glanced down, then quickly looked away, as he realized that the child she was carrying was gone. Gone with the beating that Ghillan gave her. "I’m so sorry, baby," he bit his lip, as he realized the inappropriateness of that particular endearment.
Rhysalla flushed, as she realized the sensitivity of the moment, she and Rhoryn were sharing. "It’s all right, Master. We can always have another one. Now rest," Rhysalla gently checked Rhoryn over seeing what could be done about his wounds.
Rhoryn fell asleep under his love’s gentle ministrations, vowing that they would never have another child. He didn’t want to put Rhysalla in the position of being hurt like that again.
Ghalis leaned up against the doorjamb, looking at the couple before him, "You sent for me?"
Rhoryn sighed, "Yes, I did. I know that saying I’m sorry isn’t enough."
"No, it isn’t!" Ghalis snapped. "You took my daughter away and put her in a position where Ghillan almost killed her."
"Father!" Rhysalla protested.
"Quiet, child! This is between me and Rhoryn. What are you going to do now, boy?" The satyr looked straight at his daughter’s lover and master. "Well, Hordeling?"
"He has every right to be angry with me, ‘Salla," Rhoryn gently pulled her towards him.
"Answer me, Rhoryn," Ghalis demanded.
"That’s better, you are using my name," Rhoryn stood up, walking over to face the satyr. "What do you want me to do? Besides, drop dead that is."
"Are you going to keep my daughter as your slave?"
"I almost killed Ghillan for her, what do you think, Milord?" Rhoryn stood right in front of the angry satyr, neither flinching, nor showing any sign of hesitation.
Ghalis bit his lip, looking at his daughter, trying to figure out exactly how far they had gone, in their roles as master and slave. "Daughter, do you want to stay with him?"
Rhysalla’s expressive brown eyes, widened, as she grinned, "Why father, how can you ask that? I’m a slave, we don’t get choices in our lives. You know better than that. You’ve trained enough of us over the years for many of the various gods and goddesses."
Rhoryn coughed, to hide his smile at his lover’s response. "The only way, you will get her from me, milord, is by killing me."
Ghalis nodded, "Fair enough. Then I have a small gift for you two."
"Gift?" Rhoryn asked, eyebrow raised.
"Gift, father?" Rhysalla also asked as she walked over to kneel by Rhoryn’s side.
"Lady Lhyzzin has agreed that Rhysalla will not get pregnant. This way, no accidents happen, when you two play. If you know what I mean?" Ghalis explained, gently.
Rhoryn smiled in gratitude at the old satyr, "Thank you, milord."
Rhysalla looked down, "Thank you, Father." She leaned into Rhoryn’s simple touch of playing with her hair, with a contented sigh.
"I will leave you two be now," Ghalis said, as he walked back out the door, heading home.
Rhoryn knelt next to Rhysalla, "What’s wrong, love?"
Rhysalla closed her eyes, looking away. "Is this my master, or my lover asking?" she whispered.
Rhoryn lifted her chin, "I can’t be one without being the other any more. We’ve established that. Now, tell me, what is wrong?"
She looked up at him, tears trailing down her cheek, "Rhoryn, I want a child. Your child. Our child. And now, I can’t."
Rhoryn gently wiped away the tears, "Oh ‘Salla, you almost died when Ghillan beat you, do you think I want to risk losing you like that?"
"But," she protested.
"No buts, love. I don’t want to risk you getting hurt or worse, while carrying a child. I’m sorry," he whispered gently, pulling her close to comfort her.
She wrapped her arms around him, crying, "As you wish, Master."
Rhoryn helped her to stand up, walking her out to the garden. He gently led her to an area enclosed by several bushes of fire roses, "Come my darling." He pulled her down gently beside him, to comfort her as best as he knew how.
"You know, people talk about the evil of Ninrath," Rhoryn chuckled. Being careful of his wings, he leaned back in the old leather chair, putting his feet up on the old battered desk. "But you, you area piece of work in your own right."
Rhoryn looked around the room, still chuckling, "I mean look at this place," the young man waved his hand around the room to emphasize his point. "Cheap candles sconces. Battered old leather furniture. Batter old desk, complete with a broken leg. This place is a dump. Not one thing in here shows your true nature. Or what your true treasures were."
"What do you think your biggest mistake was?" Rhoryn leaned forward, slamming his feet down on the old dust filled carpet. He coughed, waving his hand to clear the dust. "Was it your allies? Your choice in broodmares? Lord knows you had your pick of them." The young man leaned back again, "I do admit your little breeding program was brilliant. Tweak your lovers so that their daughters are that much more efficient in producing children. It was years before Ninrath caught on to that one." Rhoryn shook his head, amazed at the audacity of it all, "And the wings, now they were a nice touch. Stimulating us, especially the girls so that they would become glorified whores."
Rhoryn stood up, slamming his hands on the desk, "Truly inspired, Grandfather. Truly inspired. To bad you let your greed get the better of you." Rhoryn grinned slyly, "I can almost see and admire the purity of your greed. Almost." Rhoryn took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, in a satisfied sigh. He walked over to the battered iron bound wooden door. He paused to look over his shoulder, "But then again, I’ve accepted my evil nature. Good job, Grandfather. That’s why you had to die. Your greed was getting the better of you."
Rhoryn bowed with a flurish to the dead god sitting behind the old battered desk, "Rot in Saidryn’s closet you old bastard." Rhoryn gathered his power, blowing out the torches in the sconces, as he closed and locked the door.
Rhoryn stood in the ally way, watching the half-elf. He had heard his sister had taken up with a judge. And now, he was checking him out, to reassure Ninrath that Myssara wasn’t being used again. He shifted further back into the shadows of the ally. It had taken about a day to find this guy and learn his habits.
Rhoryn’s mouth twitched in amusement, as he probed the half-elf, finding the perfect split in his personality. He hoped he didn’t have to kill this half-elf. Some one had done a good job. He recognized a kindred spirit when he saw one.
Rhoryn pulled further back into the shadows, so he wouldn’t be noticed. :Damn wings, they get in the way.: chuckling mentally. He was going to have to talk to Jayhdas about this one. He was too good to waste.
Without a thought or a care, Rhoryn made his way through the back streets and alleys to the temple of Judgment. With a gentle mental tap, he knocked on the shields surrounding the temple. Even he wasn’t going to risk a god’s wrath by walking in unannounced.
"And what can I do for you, Hordeling?"
With a soft chuckle, Rhoryn bowed to the god of Judgment. "What are your plans for my sister’s lover?"
Jayhdas raised an eyebrow, "Excuse me?"
"I want to know if you have any plans for the little psycho sleeping with my sister."
"And why should I care who Ninrath’s children take to their beds?" The god leaned back against the wall of the temple, arms crossed neatly on his chest.
Rhoryn flushed, "Because he’s one of your judges, and he’s, well insane is a bit harsh. Let’s say he’s a cold calculating bastard, that has the potential to put your judgmental ass in a sling."
"I am sure it is not as bad as you say, Hordeling," Jayhdas protested, rustling his dark gray robes in agitation.
"Fine. Don’t listen to me," Rhoryn held his hands up, backing off. "But when he goes on that holy crusade to punish all evil, no matter what it is, don’t come complaining when I snap his neck. Especially if he goes after someone just because they are born of evil, but aren’t evil themselves."
The god of Judgment blinked his dark gray eyes, rubbing his hands along the bottom of his face. "Maybe I should look into this."
Rhoryn smiled evilly, "You know that sounds like a very good idea, because I really like the poor bastard."
He laid there on the bed, with a contented sigh. He was really enjoying the feeling of the small hands on his back, easing sore muscles. He glanced over his shoulder with a faint smile, at the sound of the giggle. “Yes?” eyebrow raised in inquiry.
“Just the funny little sounds you make, that is all.”
“Funny little sounds I make? I make? Who is the one that squeaks when she is tickled?” His chuckle had a warm little wicked quality to it.
“Oh that would never be me, Master,” the little girl said with a grin.
Gently, trying his best not to disturb the girl on his back, he rolled over to look at her. “Oh really? Shall I test that?”
The girl cringed back. “You wouldn’t do that would you, Master?”
“I might,” pulling her close. “You are too much, my dear.” He gently let his hands wander, finding all the right places.
She collapsed on top of him with a happy sigh, her long hair covering them like a blanket. “You are too kind, Master.”
“And you are too irresistible, ‘Salla,” Rhoryn softly whispered in her ear.
“I do my best to please.”
Rhoryn closed his eyes, enjoying the peace of the room and the young woman in his arms. “I like it here. Quiet. Simple. Private.”
“And the fact that it is all ours, doesn’t take away from it either. Does it, Master?” the little girl asked.
“That too. No loud obnoxious, annoying siblings barging in on us. I could really get to like this.”
The heavy wooden door to the room, slammed open. “Get your ass in gear, brother mine. We have work to do.” A young man walked into the room. He walked over to the end of the bed, and stood there, waiting for his brother.
“What was that I said about loud obnoxious annoying siblings, a moment ago?”
“Just get up and get your ass moving, Rhoryn.”
“I was working on that brother mine, but what you are talking about and what I am talking about are two different things. Now, go away.” Rhoryn held the girl tighter to him, breathing on her neck lightly.
Rhyssalla squirmed, giggling. She traced her hands down Rhoryn’s sides, reaching towards the wings. She squeaked, when Rhoryn grabbed her wrists. “You really don’t want to do that, do you?” he inquired, grinning
“Do what master?” she whispered, eyes wide.
“Rhoryn! Stop farting around! We have to go!” Khoral snapped.
“Damn it,” he whispered softly. “All right already! Keep your damn pants on! And you my lovely,” he kissed the girl, “are going to wait for me, right here.” He sat up, taking the girl with him. He gently twisted her arms until her wrists were touching behind her back, and secured the cuffs she was wearing together. “I’ll be back and we’ll continue from there,” he grinned wickedly.
Eyes wide, Rhyssalla nodded. “Yes master.” Rhoryn climbed off the bed, grabbing some clothes. “This had better be good, Khoral,” he growled.
“Believe me, it is.” Khoral looked over the little girl on the bed, trying to figure out why she put up with his brother’s shit. “Are you seriously going to leave her like that?”
“Yes! You interrupted my fun time! The sooner we do whatever it is that you want me to do, the sooner I get back to it!” Rhoryn snapped.
“Rhoryn, this may take a while,” Khoral reasoned with his brother.
“Khoral, she’s a half god, just like us. If ‘Salla needs to get out of her bonds she can. She knows how. Don’t worry about it. We’ve been doing this for years now,” Rhoryn explained, exasperated. “Now, let’s go, before I change my mind about this.”
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