Bargain 2/2 WIP

They bathed me and shaved me, dressed me in sheer silks and painted me like a harlot, only for me to stand still and silent in Ahriman’s study for hours, untouched and unused. Ahriman reduced me to a mute, pretty stand for his grimoire and ignored me, keeping his focus on the equations and prophecies spread before him on his carved desk. If my half-naked, shivering presence at all distracted him, he did not let it show.

“You are being uncharacteristically quiet,” he finally deigned to speak to me as the Terran skies reflected in his horns looped close to midnight, “I have come to expect your colorful commentary of every passing matter.”

I bit my cheek and kept my silence. Finally, Ahriman turned from his research, took me by my hips and pulled me closer, forced me to straddle his lap.

I still held his hefty grimoire. I pressed it to my chest in a pitiful attempt hide behind its crumbling pages; he took it from me then, my only shield against his scrutinizing stare, and leaned back in his cushy armchair to drink in the sight of me.

“Very well,” he purred after a long while of shameless ogling, “I will find a way to coax your voice out of you.”

I pulled my head between my shoulders; the flimsy robe I wore slid down my arms, revealing more of my soft, unmarred skin. Ahriman’s hands came to my navel, undoing the silky ribbon binding my waist; like an emerging moth, I was pulled bare from my gossamer cocoon, a defenseless morsel for the man toying with me. His fingers came first to my thighs, then my throat; he squeezed me, tugged me close and tasted the sweat beading on my neck. I braced for a bite, but he didn’t treat me to one, only to a series of increasingly aggressive kisses.

I let slip a sigh every time his lips pressed into me; I’d almost failed to suppress the urge to grind against my captor.

Once he tired of judging me, groping me, holding me, Ahriman brought me to the edge of his desk, between the scrolls of his unfinished research, and continued savoring me there. His tongue dragged over my chest, my abdomen, my groin; I laid back on the hard mahogany and arched my back as he took me in his mouth.

It was a tease. An appetizer. He wanted to see me squirm; he wanted to see my obedience. After I’d shown him nothing but, displayed no will to oppose him, he pulled back from me and unfastened his celestial robe. I turned my head and caught a glimpse of his azure skin, of the stiffness between his legs.

Like the tyrants of the Eye who used to buy my company in darker times, Ahriman only had limited patience for admiring his newly procured goods. I was a beautiful thing to him, but a beautiful thing to be used, and he wasn’t shy to take what he had paid for. Sparing no thought for my comfort - my enjoyment of the ordeal was not part of our bargain, after all - he pinned me to the table by the throat and shoved himself inside me without any further deliberation.

(...)