A woman stood in the center of the room, her hands spread up and wide, bound above her head, and her ankles apart and secured to the ground, the ropes affixed to other parts of the room. She was only given a little room to bend at the waist, which she did now, dangling with a large blindfold covering her eyes and half her face. An incubus stood behind her with a leer and a leather tool of some kind in his hand, the end a collection of little leather strips.
As I watched, he slapped her ass with the whip thing, the crack ringing out.
“Oh! Yes, Daddy,” the woman said in a sultry voice, and holy shit, it sounded like Leala.
“You filthy little slut,” the man said huskily, swinging the tool again. The leather tips slapped her ass again, and she jumped.
“Hmm, yes.”
Crack.
“Oh, Daddy, more. I’ve been naughty.”
Great goddess, my animal thought.
I stared with wide eyes. Where were the imaginary pearls I’d brought to the castle? I needed to clutch them.
The man with the leather strap advanced on the woman who had to be Leala, dipping low, his cock erect and ready. He thrust up and obviously in.
“Take it all, you greedy slut,” the man said. He reached around and grabbed her nipple, twisting it, rough and vicious. The action drew sounds of pain from the bound woman…but they quickly turned to whimpers of pleasure.
She slackened against her binding, her mouth pulling into a smile. “Hmm, yes, Daddy, punish me.”
The man licked his palm and then slapped the woman on the ass. A moment later, he reached around and did the same to her breast. She cried out, and then the sound reduced into a heady moan.
“I think we’d better get the nipple clamps,” he said, thrusting rhythmically.
“Or how about the hot wax…”
Nope, I thought. I’m not cut out for these shenanigans. I need those pearls.
The second he pulled out and ducked to the side to grab whatever torture device she wanted, I hurried by. She couldn’t see me, and he had his focus elsewhere.
Down the hall a ways, the door came into sight—but so did shapes off to the right, in a shadow by the bench. This must’ve been a favorite spot, because this was where Nyfain and I had seen the people in furry costumes. That, or it was the same couple and this was their hangout.
A nude man was on his knees, bent over a bench. The head housekeeper crouched behind him, wearing that leather halter that exposed her boobs and the briefs with the strapped-on purple dildo. Given she wasn’t directly getting pleasure, she was free to pound him while looking around the hall. I’d be noticed in an instant.
Side door? I thought.
Just go. Who is she going to tell? Leala is tied up, and Hadriel isn’t out. Nyfain probably already knows, and he’s not here anyway. Unless you think she’ll tell a demon?
I doubted she’d tell a demon.
I took a deep breath and went for it. Worst case, she’d go find Hadriel, and he’d come out and try to talk me into going back to my room. Which wasn’t going to happen.
I walked forward as if I owned the place, my head held high and my steps purposeful. The man’s grunting and moaning didn’t stop, a good sign.
Outside the door, the night air cleared my mind. The slow throb of crickets rose and fell all around me. Closer to the everlass field, the trees shook gently within the light breeze. Moss covered stumps and a light floral aroma filled my senses. No unusual scents wove through the natural tapestry.
“Okay, friends,” I murmured to myself, feeling the tension drain from my shoulders. “Let’s get to work, shall we?”
Can you just talk to me rather than your imaginary friends? my animal thought. I mean, fuck, woman, did you have no friends growing up?
Very few, actually. They all thought I was too weird and played too rough. Even the boys. Then we got older and I was definitely too weird and played too rough, so they buggered off.
Have I ever told you what a sad sack you are?
No, but you’ve sure hinted at it plenty of times.
She grunted as I grabbed the trays and set them out next to the field. When everything was set up, I let my mind drift as I harvested, pausing near the crowded plants to run my fingers over their leaves.
“I think you might be my favorite type of everlass,” I told them, taking a note from Nyfain and his mom and talking to them directly. I felt ridiculous. I was sure my animal thought I sounded foolish, too. “When the situation is dire, you save the day. Mess with you, though, or use you without caution, and you kill a bitch. If I had a mascot, it would definitely be you.”