Thread: The Breaking of a Sword (Vixen_Mistress the fifth Master)

Adan El'Glaive felt her move in the same way he felt the wraiths move in a dark forest. The way he knew someone watched him from the shadows of a room. The way he knew there had been eleven magic heaped on that valley and cautioned his Lord to the same. It was as though the very air he breathed made way for her. He did not wish to look. He would know too much should his eyes meet hers. It was too late for that. Her shadow rested over his body as he watched her hand move to his chin. His head unresisting. His mind clearing of the haze. Fully aware of her but not of her intentions, his head lifted tasting her body, the curves so generously pressing against the fabric of her gown. Over her ripe breasts, the rise and fall of them with each breath. Her neck regale, slender a dusting of her skin highlighted her sensual nature. But it was her eyes that warned him. Her eyes, beautiful to a depth he had not imagined, as an ice capped mountain valley, even in summer, she was cold. Was he hold his breath as her finger tips stroked down his neck. As she explored, discovered his broad chest, the coarse hair that tried to trap her finger tips. His mouth open, taking shallow breaths as she spoke. It was not the volatile word half bred, or human. He had long ago settled himself to those facts. Undeniable. He hated but she had named him rightly, half bred. It was her closeness, and he unable to reach her should he desire to bring her closer still. She was not ugly. He thought she would lay well in his furs as he took her. But she did not offer that, nor his release. He darkened at her meaning, knowing the path of a slave was forever. There would be no release even in death for one who is owned and marked as property of a drow. Her eyes seeking something in his. He relaxed without blinking, allowing her to seek whatever she would. The fog had lifted from his brain and his situation was coming into full view as she request his compliance. That was what questions were to a prisoner with his hands chained on either side of a pole. Requests for obedience. He gave her no response. No obedience. He chose silence instead. If she wished information that would condemn him, let her dig for it. If she was that interested, let her loosen his tongue. If she wished to know, let her take it from him. If she could. The name. Her name. He stiffened. She had mastered the battle strategy. She had developed the weakness, drawn his Lord in with the strikes to his vanity. She, Ariia she called herself. There were other names. Ariia, the black diamond. Ariia, the daughter of demon myrrtha. Ariia, royalty among even the high elf and drow. Her birth had been celebrated among both people, uniting one with the other in a way nothing else before could. It was said her price, a place separate from others. Trained and scholared to the arts of many disciplines. Almost a deity if the namer was eleven kind, or demon if the namer was human. She came with a price to her enemies. A price far to high to pay. Mistress she said. He nodded his head, refusing to speak. Refusing to give her the pleasure of hearing him surrender a piece of himself so quickly. Let her earn it, he thought. He watched her eyes shift away from him. He followed her gaze and saw the fire. His eyes narrowed as he saw what rested deep in the magic inferno. a Brand. His chains rattle softly and he tested their strength as quietly as he could. A Brand. Not just any brand. Magic. She spoke of food and he wanted freedom. Food tasted different when free. But she was there, in front of him. Almost touching, talking about eating. His skin gathered where she stroked gently. He took a deeper breath his chest pressing against her finger tips to feel more of her warm touch. She was not ugly after all. Not hard on the eyes to look upon. She would probably gasp and sigh under him as he took her, should he get the chance. He thought she would well please him. But his thoughts and her touch did not last. She stepped away. He sighed deeply. Relief? Lust? He wasnt sure. He only knew he sighed and the deep intake of breath was welcome. Cleared his head fully and he looked up in her direction as he heard the sound of metal scraping metal. His eyes focused on her then on the metal box. He watched as she reached in and retrieved what waited for her. His eyes widened as he saw it. There was no secret about its purpose. How well it could perform its duty in the hand of someone with skill. He leaned hard against the pole that held him open to her pleasure. His hands gripping the chains at his wrists. He pulled down slowly trying to break free without her noticing his efforts. He struggled against them, against the pole. If the whip bite his flesh enough.... He pushed the thought aside and worked the chains above his head. But he felt her moving again.