He kisses her, gently, and then wraps his arms around her again and cradles her against his chest. "My treasure. I'm going to kill him," he says. "Publicly, in front of the rest of them, next time I let them have you. Everyone should be very clear that they are not allowed to interfere with you unless I have given them explicit permission."

"Thank you, my lord," she murmurs.

Pet pet. "Did he ruin our game for you?"

"A little," she admits.

"Then what do you say to this: I'll take you to my illusion room and tease you and torture you and fuck you everywhere but your cunt, all day long, until you're out of your mind with lust. And then you will pleasure yourself, and I'll watch, and when you're done I will rape your lovely cunt until we're both entirely satisfied, and tomorrow I'll send you to the fighters to punish you, and I'll make an example of your enemy first." He kisses the top of her head. "And if they're insufficiently punishing without him, then I'll just have to think of something else to do to you afterward."

She hugs his arm and nestles against his chest. "Yes, my lord."

"Good girl."

He picks her up and carries her off.

In the illusion room, he dismisses his clothes and conjures an exquisitely beautiful bedroom, lit by an intricate array of tiny sparkling crystals hanging in loops and arcs and spirals from a domed stone ceiling, with a huge round bed in the middle. He tosses her onto it.

"Do you feel like struggling while I rape you, my treasure?"

"No, my lord," she murmurs.

"Suit yourself." He pounces. Although she said she doesn't want to struggle, he still holds her down, shoving her face into the soft blankets as he fucks her ass with bruising force.

It's kind of incredible to feel this and know that he's holding back. She moans and whimpers and remembers very vividly that when he really wants to hurt her, he can fuck her hard enough to break bones.

"Tell me what you want," he murmurs into the back of her neck.

She whimpers. "My lord," she says, muffled by the blanket under her face, "please, I want your cock in my cunt, want it so badly - I love the way you fuck me, love the way you rape me, love being your—your beautiful slut—" And now she's crying, sobbing helplessly into the bed.

"Mine," he agrees, and he bites her shoulder and spills his seed deep in her ass.

She whimpers and sniffles and sobs.

"My treasure," he murmurs, gathering her into his arms. The bed reshapes itself into a nest, cradling them both in soft blankets.

A tendril of rough granite wraps around her right ankle; another one does the same on her left. They pull her legs gently but inexorably apart, coiling up around her like snakes.

A third tendril, thicker than the first two, rises up between them. He hasn't told her to close her eyes, so she can clearly see it coming.

"You want it in your cunt, don't you," he says, kissing her just behind her ear.

"Yes, my lord."

"Remember when I burned out your womb and fucked what was left until you were hollow as a pitted peach?"

She moans softly, wiping tears from her face with a shaking hand. "Yes, my lord."

"Want me to do it again?"

She shudders with fear, but nods.

"Too bad."

He laughs in her ear and hugs her around the waist, effortlessly holding her in place while the wrist-thick stone tendril plunges into her ass.

She cries out, twisting helplessly in his arms. The rough texture of the stone makes her feel like she's being scraped raw - and she likes it - and she wants to like it, she wants him to do this to her, wants to be his helpless beautiful torture-loving slut.

"Yes," she whimpers, "yes, yes, fuck me, yes—"

"My treasure." He hugs her and kisses her cheek and fucks her ass with cold hard stone.

"—oh please my lord it's so good—"

"You know who you belong to. You know who owns your pain and your pleasure."