Chapter 26

It takes days before I recover from my two long back-to-back treks. My legs are so sore I can barely walk, and I have no choice but to stay in bed all day, with nothing to do but lament the turn of events in the catacombs.

Khysmet spends much of his free time caring for and entertaining me, rubbing my legs, bringing me books to read, and teaching me how to play chess. For reasons he refuses to explain to me, and entirely against my will, I have been relocated to his bedroom for my recovery. Even if I could walk far enough to get back to my own room, he would just find me and carry me back to his bed again, so I just resign myself to my fate and stay put. I miss Vizsla. At least Annika is talking to me normally, without the slightest bit of awkwardness after seeing me naked with the king.

Khysmet keeps bringing me books on deciphering codes, which I have all in a pile on his bedside table, none of which I have even touched. They just sit there and taunt me day in and day out.

“I don’t get it,” he says to me one day while applying more pain reducing lotion up my legs. “You’ll do all this research to pick up mapmaking and cave exploration in order to satisfy your curiosity, but code breaking is something you won’t even consider attempting?”

“My brain just doesn’t work that way,” I complain, rubbing my temples with my fingertips. “Even thinking about thinking about it gives me a headache.”

“I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you back down from a challenge,” he comments.

"I'm not backing down from a challenge," I argue. "I'm just not rising to it quite yet. I've been busting my ass with all this cave exploring and mapmaking, you know. I need a break, that's all."

Khysmet closes the container of lotion and sets it to the side, then climbs into bed and sits next to me, pulling me toward him so that my head rests against his chest.

"You know," he says, "my brother has an interest in creating and breaking codes as a hobby. I could ask him to come visit for a while so you can pick his brain."

"Really?" I say eagerly. "That would be amazing. I'd love to thank him in person for the list he sent me, too."

"He's actually quite interested in meeting you. I've mentioned you a lot in the letters I've sent to him lately. I'm sure it would be easy to convince him to visit Dimos for a spell."

I smile and hum contentedly. That stupid rat-chewed piece of paper has been haunting me from the moment I laid eyes on it in the catacombs. Getting help with deciphering it would be huge.

"So he's interested in code breaking as a hobby, huh?" I say. "Interesting hobby to have."

"He's a smart man. Always picking up whatever new venture it is that strikes his fancy. You remind me of him in that way. I'm sure you'll get along well."

"You always speak so highly of him. I'm excited to meet him."

With the promise of help coming in the near future to aid me in figuring out the world's most frustrating clue, the rest of my recovery is much more relaxed. I let Khysmet take care of me for several days longer than I really need, then when he's not looking, I make a break for it and hightail it back to my own room to get some actual peace and quiet for a change. I pull Vizsla into a tight hug when I see her again, even though it's barely been a week since I saw her last. I spend some of the day hanging out with her and some just playing my lute quietly, reclining on my very comfortable couch. By some stroke of luck, Khysmet does not try to come after me the whole afternoon.

My luck runs dry that evening though, not long after I return from grabbing dinner.

The moment I hear the knock on my door, my stomach sinks. I know exactly who it is before I open it, so I almost don't open it at all. Not opening it would just temporarily stave off the inevitable though, so I walk across the room and bite the bullet.

Khysmet's expression is entirely inscrutable when it appears in my doorway.

"I see you've recovered enough to run back to your own room," he says mildly.

"Yup, I'm doing much better," I insist with a reassuring smile. "No need to dote on me all day anymore."

He cocks his head and looks me up and down. "Are you able to stand for a while without your legs hurting?"

"Um," I say. "Yes?" That’s a very specific question, and I’m scared to find out why he’s asking it.

His face splits into a wide and sinister grin, intensifying my fears.

"Then I'll be taking you back to my bedroom after all,” he says. “I have decided on your punishment."

I flinch backward. "What?"

He leans down until he's level with my face, the look in his eyes sending a chill down my spine.

"Are you going to come willingly, or do I have to throw you over my shoulder?"

As an answer, I try to slam the door in his face, hoping to catch him off guard so I can lock him out. It doesn't work. He reacts too quickly and stops the door with his foot, then pushes back against my frantic attempts to close the door all too easily. Before I know it, he's in the room and I'm being lifted off my feet with an undignified squeak and thrown over his shoulder as threatened, suddenly facing the impending humiliation of being carried across the castle with my ass in the air.

"Can I change my answer?" I beg. "I'll come willingly. I promise I won't try to run."

"It's a little late for that, sunshine. You made your bed, now you have to lie in it."

I try to keep my eyes shut as Khysmet takes me down the hallways so as to remain blissfully unaware of who sees me in this position, but when I hear tittering laughter, I can't help but look. It's two young women from the nobility, looking at me and whispering to each other. I resist the urge to flip them off, which is no easy feat. Fortunately, they are the only two we run into before reaching his door. He locks it once we're inside and takes me through his study to his bedroom, where he finally sets me down on a couch, then walks off to retrieve something from a drawer.

"Strip," he orders. "I want you fully naked for this."

I flush bright red. So this is the kind of punishment he was talking about? What is he going to do, spank me? Despite my sustained belief that I do not deserve a punishment in the first place, I find I'm getting excited just trying to guess what he has in mind for me. I stand up and strip down compliantly.

When he comes back to me, he's holding some strips of black fabric in his hand. I cock my head as I look at them, trying to figure out what they might be for.

"Turn around," he says, and I comply.

He steps up close enough behind me that I can feel him inches from my back, then to my surprise, he slips one of the strips of fabric gently over my eyes and ties it behind my head. The fabric is doubled up a couple times, so no light filters through it. I’m in near total darkness.

“A blindfold?” I ask. “What are you going to do to me?”

“Just have a little fun,” he says unhelpfully, then grabs me by the wrist and starts to pull gently. “Come this way.”

My steps are hesitant, even though I know he wouldn’t lead me into anything that I could trip over. Haven’t I spent enough time in the darkness lately? This isn’t fair. Or maybe it’s a fitting punishment? Maybe a little of both.

He pulls me a ways across the room, then stops. I can feel that there’s a rug under my feet, but I can’t tell if there’s anything around me. Suddenly, he starts wrapping soft fabric around the wrist that he has a hold of, tying a firm knot that makes it impossible for me to slip my wrist out, but without it being too tight. He tugs on the fabric and lifts my arm in the air, the unexpectedness of the motion making me softly gasp. A moment later, he’s lifting up my other wrist and wrapping more fabric around it, too, tying the same knot that’s not too tight or too loose. He lets go, but my arms are still being held in the air by something. I pull experimentally, then reach into the air to feel for what it is.

“That chain is bolted into the stone ceiling pretty firmly,” Khysmet says from the darkness, “but it’s designed to hold a light fixture, not a person. Maybe don’t put your whole weight into it, okay, sunshine?”

“O- Okay,” I stutter. This is quickly becoming terrifying in the best possible way. I’m hanging from the ceiling, my body on full display, completely unable to see what’s coming for me. My heart is racing like crazy. I’m quivering in anticipation and an unbelievable amount of arousal is pooling low in my gut. I don’t know what he’s going to do to me, but I can’t wait for him to do it.

“Now I’m feeling magnanimous today,” he says from behind me, his voice changing location as he walks around to my side, “so I’m going to give you a safeword. Say ‘oranges’ if you want me to stop, okay?”

“Safeword?” I ask, a bit puzzled. “I thought you didn’t want to hear the word ‘no’ in the bedroom?”

“Oh, it won’t really be a ‘no’,” he explains lightly. “You see, we’re just going to restructure some language a little for the time being.”

He grabs me by the chin, making me jump. His voice is suddenly close, coming from right in front of my face.

“Just for tonight,” he purrs, “‘no’ means ‘yes’, ‘stop’ means ‘keep going’, and ‘it’s too much’ means ‘more, please’.”

He lets go of my chin and pats me on the cheek. “If you want to say ‘no’, say ‘oranges’. Get it?”

I blink behind my blindfold. “No?” I say experimentally.

He chuckles. “Good.”

There’s silence for a while. The rug muffles his footsteps, so I can’t hear if he’s moving around me except by the direction that his voice comes from. My skin prickles with goosebumps and I heave a shuddering breath that cuts the silence.

Suddenly I feel his snout ghosting over the shell of my ear, breathing softly on it.

“Are you scared, Cat?” Khysmet asks.

I think about it. I’m maybe ten percent scared and ninety percent turned on out of my mind. But I wonder if I say that I’m not scared, would he decide that this isn’t enough of a punishment? I decide to lie a little. I’m certainly shaking enough for it to be convincing.

“Yes,” I say. “Terrified.”

He hums behind my ear, the vibration sending a thrill running through me. Then he pulls away and there’s more silence for a while.

Then without warning, he thrusts his fingers between my legs, digging into my slit roughly, feeling the wetness there, and withdrawing his hand just as quickly.

“Liar,” he accuses.

He presses his fingers, covered in my own arousal, to my lips and smears them lasciviously across my cheek.

“Feel how wet you are for this. You’re about as scared as I am.”

I’m jumping and trembling at every sensation, the blindfold ensuring that every single action is a total surprise. It’s like my senses are heightened and I’m feeling each touch with amplified intensity. My skin tingles with anticipation, craving every second of contact against it.

For a while, he just circles me, reaching out to touch me at odd intervals, so I can’t anticipate when the next one is coming. He trails a finger down my spine. Grabs one breast and squeezes. Pinches my ass. Pokes the back of my knee. Flicks a nipple. Not all of his touches are sexual in nature, but I’m so keyed up that my body is reacting to every one.

“Do you trust me, Cat?” Khysmet asks after a few minutes of teasing me.

I breathe shakily in and out. “I do,” I say.

It feels sort of obvious, given that I have allowed him to blindfold me and tie me to the ceiling. Sort of makes me scared to find out what he’s about to do.

Then I feel a light scratching sensation trailing around my torso, sharp like needles scraping across my skin. They must be his claws, I realize, gingerly dragging across my body with the most delicate touch, barely kissing my skin with their razor sharp points. I’ve seen what they can do to fabric many times. And I’ve had experience with what they can do to flesh from my encounter in the arena alleyway. One wrong move, one flick of his wrist, and I could be bleeding all over this rug. I try to stay completely still, but the featherlight touch is sending shivers up and down my spine. I can’t help but twitch and shudder, the hint of fear making it all the harder to stop my body from moving.

His claws rove over my entire body, across my back, down my legs, over my ass, up my arms, under my breasts, their pathway crossing over itself many times. Not once does the tingling pleasure turn to pain, but the constant looming threat keeps me permanently on edge, whimpering and trembling whenever he changes direction or scratches across a particularly sensitive area.

“Your skin is so delicate,” Khysmet comments. “I’m barely touching you, yet your body is covered in pretty red welts just from this.”

He runs his claws from my lower belly straight up all the way over my torso, between my breasts, over my sternum and up the length of my throat, lifting off finally at the end of my chin. My trembling reached new heights when they were over my throat, but with the threat now removed from my body, I can finally start to relax, which I do with a heavy sigh, letting my arms dangle from their restraints.

Suddenly, Khysmet's fingers are between my legs again. He spreads me open and the moment he does, liquid drips down my thighs in rivulets.

"Oh Cat," he says patronizingly. "You keep trying to convince me you're not enjoying this with your cute little cries, but your body is begging for more."

He pulls his hand away and disappears from my senses again, leaving me to hang here in the darkness once more.

When he reappears, it’s in the form of his snout pressed behind my ear again.

“I know something that could make this more interesting,” he purrs, tracing circles on my shoulder with one finger. “I’m going to bite you here in a second. You think your skin is sensitive now? Wait until you have my venom coursing through your veins.”

I can’t help but notice he’s informing me that he’s going to bite me rather than asking permission, which sends an extra thrill down my spine. I shudder and brace myself for the pinch of his fangs sinking into my shoulder. When it comes, I whimper at the pain, then brace myself again for the flood of sensation I know is coming.

It’s an odd feeling, to have my senses heightened, but with little to no input to them. The darkness seems to get darker somehow. The silence gets deeper, though I can now somewhat hear the muffled sound of footsteps on the rug, albeit still without being able to tell which direction they’re coming from. The few things I can feel – the fabric on my wrists and face, the rug under my toes, and the wet droplets still rolling down my legs – intensify greatly, though mostly what I can feel is the warm empty air around me. The one sense that’s really overpowering is my sense of smell; Khysmet’s bergamot and mahogany scent is thick in the air, so potent my mind starts to feel hazy from it.

Then, Khysmet blows gently in my ear, and my nerve endings explode in a fiery crackle, cascading across my whole body in a shockwave of delicious agony that ripples outwards from the point of origin all the way down to my toes. I cry out in surprise and my knees buckle, putting some strain on my wrists for a second until I’m able to recover, panting and shaking but standing on my own two feet.

Khysmet chuckles, a sound that thrums into my chest. “I thought I told you not to test the load bearing capacity of that chain, sunshine. Try to stay standing, okay?”

He then returns to walking circles around me, poking, prodding, and groping my body at odd intervals. Every slight touch sends my nerves into overdrive, surging in great searing pulses through me from the epicenter of contact outwards to the furthest reaches of my body. It’s torture. Relentless torture. I squeal at every slight touch, no matter how much I brace myself for the next one. I can barely stay on my feet, the impact of every fleeting moment of sensation nearly knocking me to the ground every single time.

I think it’s about three minutes in that I start begging him to stop. I tell him I can’t take it any more, that it’s too much, that I’ll do anything if he’ll just let me go. I scream. I plead. I wail in agony.

I don’t say “oranges”, though.

He starts in with his claws again, dragging them gently, slowly across my skin. Each point of contact feels like a searing hot brand cutting into my flesh. He could be actually drawing blood and I don’t think I would even notice the difference. I howl and writhe, straining against my restraints with all my might. I’m so overwhelmed with sensation I barely know which way is up. Still the safeword doesn’t touch my lips.

I don't know how long this goes on – it feels like hours with how every second stretches out in exhausting agony. Then, just when it’s about to verge into the territory of truly being too much for me to handle, it all stops. My nerve endings pop and fizzle, tingling from the aftershocks of sensation that bounce through me like echoes and slowly fade back to silence. I heave ragged breaths, near hyperventilating at first, but gradually slowing down to a steady yet labored pace. My heart pounds in my ears, amplified by the venom to a deafening roar. But I can’t hear anything else.

“K- Khysmet?” I stutter into the emptiness as it stretches on for longer than it has before. “Where are you?”

As an answer, I once more feel fingers digging into my slit, and I emit a ragged shout in response. With the venom coursing through my veins, the invasive touch makes my cunt spasm so hard it borders on painful, and he’s not even rubbing anything particularly sensitive.

“You’ve been such a good girl tonight,” Khysmet praises. “Let’s see if we can’t get you to come at least once before you need your antivenom. I bet it won’t take too long.”

When he starts pressing into my clit, the shock of agonizing pleasure makes me howl, and my knees buckle immediately. Khysmet’s fingers stay with me, though, rubbing rapid circles into the overly sensitive bud like he’s racing to see just how quickly he can bring me to orgasm. The overstimulation I’ve endured up to now has left me with a pounding ache between my legs that has been begging and pleading for relief for so long, and even though his touch is torture on my sensitive nerves, it also finally satisfies the deep, burning need in my womb. As he predicted, it takes almost no time for me to come undone against his fingers, the orgasm surging through me like an electric shock and overloading every nerve in my body after less than a minute of frantic rubbing, arousal flooding out of me and running down my thighs as my body spasms uncontrollably. Khysmet slows his hand as I ride it out, then removes it once I finally stop writhing and am left just dangling limply from my wrist restraints.

My senses are completely fried. The pounding of my pulse in my ears is muffled. I can barely feel the tightness of the fabric around my wrists. My mind is steeped in a dull haze, and it’s all I can do to try and stay standing.

Right as a headache is starting to pound against my temples, a familiar little cup is pressed to my lips.

“Drink,” Khysmet commands, then gently tilts the cup, pouring the liquid in my mouth. A little bit spills out, dribbling down my chin, but I somehow manage to swallow most of it. Some of the haziness starts to dissipate, and my budding headache vanishes. I even manage to get my feet under me a little more firmly. My chest heaves with ragged breaths that I’m finally starting to get under control as I feel the cool healing salve smeared against the bite mark on my shoulder.

I feel him pick at the restraints on one wrist, untying the knot that has undoubtedly gotten tighter from all my pulling. When it finally comes loose, I drop to the floor like a bag of rocks. He catches me on the way down, cushioning my fall so that when my knees hit the floor, they at least don’t bruise. He gently strokes my back for a second, then I feel him untie the knot at the back of my head. The blindfold falls away and I blink blearily, the world taking a while to come into focus.

“Cat,” he says, kneeling beside me. “Are you okay?”

Once I can half-see again, I grope for his shirt and tug, pulling him close, trying to look him in the eye.

"Khysmet," I rasp, voice hoarse from overuse. "Please, fuck me. Please?"

“What?” he asks, sounding genuinely startled. “You sure you can handle that?”

“I need you inside me, please,” I beg. “I want to feel full.”

He nods. "Okay, let me just take you to bed, and then–“

"No," I interrupt. "Here. Now. I need you right now."

I get up on my knees in front of him, sticking my ass in the air, a lewd and shameless invitation. When I spread my legs apart, I feel arousal ooze out of me straight onto the floor. I hear Khysmet's breath catch in his throat. Then I hear him hurry to untie the lace on his pants, kneeling right behind me and pressing his freed cock against my entrance. It slides in with little to no resistance, filling me perfectly and making the aching parts inside of me sing. He moans deep and low.

“I’ll try to make this quick for you, sunshine,” he says. “You seem like you’re about at your limit as is.”

Right from the start, he pounds into me hard and fast, presumably with the aim of getting himself off more quickly. I'm too exhausted to rock my hips back to meet him; all I can do is brace myself where I am and let him use me, whining feverishly as he slams his hips into mine over and over. The wet schlicking sound coming from my soaked pussy is deafeningly loud. It fills my ears along with Khysmet's deep grunts and my own faint whimpers to create a symphony of obscenity that makes my inner walls spasm around his cock.

With how sensitive I am, it takes almost no time to reach my peak again, and I come undone around him with choked sobs, my muscles tensing and relaxing uncontrollably. Khysmet drives into me hard through my orgasm, the overstimulation making me whimper and shake having experienced so much of it tonight, but the agony is oh-so sweet. Despite his promise to make it quick for me, it still takes him a while to come, and by the time his hips stutter and stall, I am hardly capable of doing anything but drool and quiver as he stuffs me full of his seed.

The second he pulls out, I collapse on my side, totally spent. I’m not sure when I’m going to be able to get up again. I might lie here on this rug forever, sticky with sweat and cum, unable to even lift an arm. The floor is my home now.

That line of thinking doesn’t last long. Khysmet picks me up gingerly, cradling me in his arms with tender care. I’m glad he doesn’t have a hard time handling my weight, because I’m completely limp, not really capable of making this easier for him. He carries me the short distance to his bed and lays me down gently. I sigh in relief as my skin hits the soft sheets. He kept his clothes on through that whole performance, but now he removes them before crawling in beside me and pulling me close as usual.

“Was that okay?” he asks when I get settled, a note of concern in his voice. “I know we’ve never really tried anything like that before.”

I grin weakly against his shoulder. “It was fun. Not something I want to do all the time, but… I liked it.”

He snorts. “I’ll say. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that wet and desperate. I must admit, though, the begging was a bit frightening. More so than I thought it would be.”

I hum a contented sigh and nuzzle into his cool, dry skin. “I was just asking for more. Isn’t that what you told me to do from the start?”

Khysmet doesn’t reply to my question. Instead, he pulls me even closer, squeezing my body against his almost to the point of pain and rocking back and forth a little. I feel his snout in my hair, and his breathing deepens. He swallows thickly.

“Don’t try to run back to your room tonight, Cat,” he says. “Please?”

I’m not really capable of doing so at the moment, but there’s a raw edge to his voice that makes me hesitate to tease him right now. Instead, I lean into his touch, wrap my arms around him, and squeeze him back.

“I won’t.”