In the Air Chapter 14
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Halsin had fallen into a doze, the pain a low roar at the back of his mind. What woke him was the apartment door falling shut, signalling that Mistress had left. He couldn't tell how long he had lain there, but when he tried to stand, his muscles were stiff and he was only able to walk by holding on to the wall.
The trail of blood he had left was still there, smeared and then dried. He followed it, his gaze fixed on it, until it ended in a bigger stain. Glancing at himself, Halsin saw the crusted blood on his arm and hand where it had trickled down.
Making his way across the apartment, one foot in front of the other, Halsin crept through the bedroom and into the bathroom. He didn't know how much time he had before Mistress returned and left the door open to hear her on the stairs should she come back suddenly.
A quick glace into the mirror showed him the swollen bruises along his cheeks, the skin split open in places and crusted with dried blood. His ear was just as swollen and bloody, tender to the touch. Attempting to clean up ended with the wounds bleeding anew, red drops melting on the wet stone of the basin. Halsin pressed a clean cloth to cheek and ear, ready to bolt at the merest sound, and waited for it to stop. He avoided looking at himself in the mirror. He did not care to face the frightened, cowed man he saw there, did not want to see what a stranger to himself he had become.
The welts on his thighs and ass had been weeping blood, plastering his clothes to his body. Halsin peeled them off, sweat beading up on his skin. He found his thighs almost black with the marks of the cane, even the brush of his fingertips setting them alight. His balls were tender and swollen, bruised a vivid red. He had meant to take a shower, to soothe the pain with some cold water, but what if Mistress returned and he didn't hear it?
Halsin balled his bloodied clothes together and went to grab new ones from the bedroom. No matter how soft the pants were, they kept rekindling the deep ache of the welts, turning every step into torture.
There was an empty space where his bedroll had been. Halsin stared at it, his mind racing. He had been afraid of Mistress returning, but what if she had already decided to get rid of him? The footfalls on the stairs he kept listening for might well be those of the guards sent to take him back to the prison, or to that lightless room she had him locked up in before. Only this time, she wouldn't send anyone to come get him.
What if she decided to give him to Meryla after all, to play with until he was broken? Or if she handed him over to Tarlyn's family, getting rid of him and winning back some of their goodwill all in one?
Halsin fled the bedroom as if he could lock those thoughts behind its door. He took care to wipe his blood off the floor, leaving the apartment as void of any sign of his presence as Mistress wanted it. Squeezing between the pots, Halsin returned to his hiding place on the balcony. He lowered himself to the floor, clenching his jaw when the pain dug its claws deep into his flesh.
From between the pillars of the balustrade, he could look down into the garden. Halsin sought for some sort of calm in meditation, watching the fronds of the giant ferns sway, breathing in time with the slow pulse of the mushrooms' light.
If she was lucky, Leandra was far away by now. Surely she had planned her escape well, and then either seen a chance or made her own. Oakfather, look out for her. Guide her back to the sun. Halsin hadn't prayed for a long time but now he did, asking for her what he couldn't ask for himself.
If she was caught, Halsin was sure he would be made to witness her punishment and death. Maybe he would be the one made to kill her. If it came to that, he wanted to believe he would refuse.
Fear and pain could only keep him awake for so long. Halsin couldn't remember falling asleep and woke up with his mind sticky like treacle, confused and slow to realise where he was. Inside, he could hear Mistress moving around, the door to the balcony open. But she didn't step out, and she didn't acknowledge his presence in any way. It seemed he got to live at least another day.
That one day stretched into several. Halsin made very sure Mistress did not lay eyes on him, barely coming out of hiding. He ate whatever Mistress left on her plate, if he could get to it between her finishing the meal and one of the servants taking it away. When she left in the morning, he slipped inside to refill the water carafe he had dared to take and to wash. His clothes were still in the wardrobe, and Halsin tied his hopes to that.
He spent most of his time watching the garden and studying the city. On one of his forays into the apartment, he took a stick of chalk and some paper from the library, half expecting Mistress to find out. But if she did, he was allowed to keep it. He filled the pages with drawings of plants, covering every bit of space until the chalk was too small to hold between his fingers. The rest of the time, he meditated or simply slept, waking up confused about where he was every time. The ever same dim light of the Underdark did nothing to tell him how long he has slept, whether it was safe for him to creep into the apartment for water and maybe a little food.
The welts started to heal, and so did the wounds on his cheek and ear. He still could neither sit nor lie down without pain, but it was no longer the sharp-toothed bite it had been that first night, and it grew less as time passed, black fading to purple and red, the wounds scabbing over.
He had taken to sleeping much of the time by then, to alleviate the boredom that had grown worse than the fear, and to make it easier to ignore how hungry he was all of the time. Halsin suspected that Mistress left some food for him on purpose, but it wasn't nearly enough.
When she stepped out on the balcony in the morning for the first time since banishing him from her sight, Halsin's heart started to race out of fear and hope, both digging their claws into him. Mistress took her usual seat, placing her teacup in front of her and a bowl with a spoon sticking out of it. The warm scent of honey carried to Halsin, hunger shouldering both fear and hope aside.
"Come here." Mistress sipped her tea while looking out over the garden, only acknowledging Halsin when he was already kneeling at her feet. Taking him by the chin, she turned his head to inspect the cuts on his cheek and ear. She let her touch linger, brushing her fingers down his neck before letting go.
"I have decided to keep you. You were always well behaved and I cannot ignore that." The collar she pulled from her robes gleamed sliver, a round circlet of smooth metal that weighed heavy in Halsin's hand when he took it from her. "Put this on. You will wear it unless I say otherwise."
It opened just far enough that he could fit it around his neck and closed all by itself, leaving no sign of how he might take it off again. There was magic in it, vibrating against his skin and then fading. There was no ring to attach a leash to it, and it sat loosely around his neck, resting on his collarbone and quickly taking on his warmth. If it was to be a punishment, Mistress had decided to be very gentle about it.
"Thank you, Mistress." It seemed a paltry thing to say but anything else tasted of trying to defend himself, and he knew that would not please her. He leaned into her touch when she petted his hair, the need to be reassured bigger even than his hunger.
"Now, go inside and eat." She pushed the bowl closer to him. "And then you can undress and wait for me in the bedroom."
Halsin took the bowl, his stomach growling at the scent of the hot porridge, and bowed to Mistress before heading inside. He forced himself to eat slowly, savouring each sweet and chewy mouthful. It wasn't enough, but at least he no longer felt lightheaded. Leaving the bowl on the table, Halsin went to the bedroom and breathed another sigh of relief at finding his bedroll once more spread out on the floor. After taking off his clothes, he knelt on it and waited.
Mistress did not hurry, and Halsin fidgeted to find a comfortable position. The bruises were fading but sitting on his heels still grew painful after a short time. But he did not care, not with the heavy weight of the last days lifted from his shoulders. Reaching up, he ran a finger over the collar, wondering what exactly the magic in it might do. He assumed it would alert Mistress if he left the apartment without her permission. If he ever was to escape, he had to find a way to get rid of it, but that was the smallest of all the obstacles keeping him here.
Halsin shoved that thought aside, guilt and fear mingling in his stomach. Almost as if drawn by it, Mistress chose that moment to join him, sweeping into the room. If she had seen him flinch, she ignored it in favour of starting to undo the laces and belts of her clothes.
"Go lie on the bed, on your belly. Close your eyes."
Hurrying to follow her command, Halsin tried to ignore the fear burrowing deeper into him. Mistress never had him lie like this, not unless Tarlyn had been there and she wanted to watch them. And she had not had him take out the plug. That left another caning. All the relief and maybe even anticipation he might have enjoyed melted into dread.
Behind him, Mistress walked around on bare feet, opening drawers and moving things in them. Halsin's skin crawled, growing too tight. The whip was kept in those drawers and if she used that, the caning she had inflicted on him would look like some gentle caresses. Everything in him screamed to turn his head and try to catch a glimpse of her but he only buried his face in his arms, listening for all the tiny noises.
The slide of the drawers, the whisper of fabric, the creak of leather and the jingle of clasps. The click of glass on metal. Mistress' quiet breaths and soft footfalls.
The mattress dipped as she climbed onto the foot of the bed, running her hand across the soles of his feet and up his calves. Her fingernails trailed over the back of his knees and thighs, whispering on his skin.
"On your knees. Keep your head down."
Halsin pushed himself up, spreading his legs at a nudge from Mistress. He expected a lash across his thighs or between his legs, setting the old bruises on fire and adding new ones. There was nothing, for so long that he had to fight the urge to speak up or fidget. He allowed himself to grab the sheets a little tighter, his back in a tense bow.
"You took good care of yourself." Mistress' voice was a cool balm easing his fear. She reached between his legs, taking him in hand and pulling the plug out of him in a slow glide that made Halsin whimper. "And you are getting much better at controlling yourself. I was sure you would learn. You can lie down again."
Stretched out, Halsin allowed himself the hope that she wouldn't want to whip him, or if she did that she would throw pleasure into the mix. She let her fingers wander along the bruises crossing his thighs and marking his ass, so lightly that it didn't hurt. It did raise every hair on his body when she placed soft kisses to his thighs, her lips brushing the worst of the bruises, the places where he had bled.
"Reach back and hold yourself open." Mistress came to straddle one of his thighs, slowly letting him take her weight. It wasn't painful but it soon would be, just as holding his own ass cheeks apart would.
She had never touched him there before. She had made Tarlyn do it, or had watched while Halsin rode one of the toys for her.
Something soft grazed his balls and dragged across his hole. Halsin shivered, pressing his face into the sheets. A sharp crack of leather on skin stung between his cheeks. He cried out, digging his fingers into his own flesh, presenting himself to Mistress for the next strike, and the next and the next.
Flat on his belly and his arms stretched back, Halsin couldn't catch his breath. What little air he did get fled him right away in quiet groans and startled gasps. Sometimes the leather flails would only brush his skin, sometimes she'd hold them up in her hand for long moments before striking, sometimes she piled pain upon pain until Halsin thought he couldn't bear it any more.
"You can let go." Mistress tapped his fingers with the smooth handle of the flogger. Halsin had to focus to loosen the grip he had on himself, gritting his teeth to stay silent. He pillowed his head on his arms again, breathing a little easier despite aching all over, from the old bruises he had squeezed too hard to the new ones Mistress had left that were burning hot. Every small shift of his legs rubbed the sensitive skin, the pain sinking deep into him.
Telling him with another tap to his knee that she wanted him to close his legs, Mistress straddled both his thighs. She leaned forward, bracing herself with one hand on Halsin's back. The cool, smooth tip of what Halsin thought must be one of the toys made room for itself between his cheeks, nudging at him, drawing back and pressing harder until it slipped inside. Grabbing the sheets, Halsin gasped at the miserable pain while Mistress withdrew and entered him again in that same slow, deliberate way.
She had used oil, enough that the act of penetration would have been merely uncomfortable for him, mostly because it had been a while since she had wanted this from him. But she had made sure that it hurt with every inch of the toy that stretched his already abused hole and sank into him. It seemed to take forever until she finally had her hips pressed to his ass, the straps and buckles of the harness chafing at his skin when she stretched out on top of him.
"You can open your eyes now." Nuzzling between his shoulder blades, Mistress petted his hair and brushed it out of his face when he turned his head to the side. Her fingers skirted the tender part of his ear where the cane had broken the skin. "You are so tense. I thought you enjoyed having some pain with your pleasure?"
There was no denying that. No matter if it was true or not, and he wasn't sure about it any more, he had made her believe it was so in his efforts to keep her interest. He had offered himself up to her cane and her crop, wearing the bruises as confirmation that she wanted him. And he had found his release in the pain, not just in his body but in his mind. Mistress liked it when she could make him break down and cry, and in the aftermath of it, it always had been as if a weight had been taken off of him.
"I'm sorry, Mistress." He badly wanted to kiss her, to calm himself. But he would have to do without. "I'm not used to you having me this way." Not a lie, not a truth. But he had pitched the tone of it right, he knew it the way he knew a spell he cast would work as he wanted it.
"It's not often I'm in the mood for it." She sounded pleased, and her hand in his hair was gentle. It was the last gentleness from her as she took him, bracing herself with both hands on his waist as she thrust the toy as deep as it would go over and over, grinding herself against him as if to push it even deeper, balancing him between pleasure and pain.
And she did make sure there was pleasure for him, angling the toy in a way that made it reach that spot inside of him until he spent, crying out and shaking under her as she fucked him right through it. She had him come up on his knees after that so she could stroke and fondle him, had him fuck back into her, no matter that he could barely tolerate her touch so soon after his peak.
Face buried in the sheets, Halsin fled into a fantasy of having asked a lover to do this to him. Someone who would stop if he asked. Someone who would be tender with him after, and who would never dream of making Halsin's pain their sport.
He thrust into their hand and rocked back onto their cock, a hand between his shoulder blades holding him down on the mattress in a wordless command he wouldn't disobey. A soft laugh and praise for him, for growing hard so soon after spending, and Halsin did not care to tell reality and fantasy apart.
For his lover, he would gladly bear the onslaught of sensations. The shocks of pleasure as they teased the head of his cock between their fingers, rubbing a thumb over the slit, the sharp ache when they ground their hips against his ass, fingers digging hard into his abused skin. Something trickled down the back of his thighs and he barely held his fantasy together at the realisation that it was blood, the deepest welts tearing open once more.
No. It was merely sweat, and he had asked for all this, asked to be treated this roughly and without mercy unless he brought it all to a halt with one word. But he wouldn't.
The salty taste of tears on his tongue, Halsin held on to the illusion of choice.
He was sobbing openly by the time Mistress finally forced another peak from him, his muscles seizing up with the wretched pleasure of it. His seed trickled out of him in a thin rivulet, burning like salt in a wound. Mistress withdrew and immediately pushed two fingers into him, slick with his own spend.
And then she was gone, climbing off the bed and leaving him to put himself together. Halsin didn't dare move, fearful of annoying Mistress and of causing himself more pain. One hand over his mouth, he muffled his sobs into mere whimpers. He heard her unbuckle the harness and flinched when she tossed it onto the bed.
"Change the sheets and clean this up." She ran her hand through his hair and down his back before vanishing in the bathroom.
Left on his own and with a task, Halsin shuffled off the bed. His skin seemed taut and too small, the bruises pulsing underneath. Pulling the sheets off the bed, he wiped himself off with it, dabbing at the back of his thighs and grimacing when the sheet came away bloodied.
Mistress showered for so long that he was all done and kneeling on his bedroll when she stepped into the bedroom again. He was tired in body and mind, the relief of being forgiven not enough to mask the exhaustion of the days spent fearing for his life, and trying so very hard to ignore that fear.
"Go take a shower, and then join me." Mistress swept past him out into the living room, and he raised his head too late to catch a glimpse of her face.
Halsin didn't bother with warm water. He wanted the numbness of the icy cold, watching the water swirling the drain stain pink just for a moment as it washed away dried and fresh blood. Turning it off when he started to shiver, Halsin stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel. The shivers didn't stop, not after he had dried himself and not after he had dressed. But Mistress was expecting him and he didn't have time to wait it out.
She was sitting on the bed, a leather folder in her lap and pages scattered around her. They were the plans he had sketched of the new garden layout. Halsin's heart skipped a beat at seeing them - he had been sure she had gotten rid of them in her anger.
"Sit with me." Gathering up the papers, Mistress closed the folder on them and put it aside. When he had gingerly lowered himself to the mattress, his legs curled under himself, he finally got the kiss he had wanted, slow and sweet. It left him a little dizzy and he caught his breath, licking his lips for more of the taste. Mistress indulged him with another kiss, her hand cupping his face. The warmth of a healing spell flooded through him, soothing the shivers and the pain. It prickled under his skin as his wounds closed and the bruises faded to nothing, leaving no trace of what had happened.
"That's better." Mistress made him turn his head and traced the shell of his ear, the skin unbroken. "I hope you will never disappoint me like this again. I was heartbroken, and so very angry at you. In part, this is my own fault. I should not have left you alone with that girl. I just didn't think she would be so selfish."
"I never meant to disappoint you, Mistress. I'm sorry." Halsin wished that they could forget about all this, making it disappear as easily as his bruises. "If I could make it undone, I would. I never thought—she and I were simply talking, I did not think it important."
"I know you didn't." Climbing into his lap, Mistress leaned against Halsin, hiding her face in the crook of his neck. He held her, petting her back in soothing circles. Drawing a shaky breath, she clung to him even tighter for a moment before leaning back in his arms. Tears were glittering on her lashes and she wiped them away, only for new ones to spring up. "We will forget this happened. I have no desire to dwell on it."
Smiling through her tears, she kissed him before resting her head on his shoulder. "But I do need to remember how innocent you are. How lost you would be without me. You are the only person I know who doesn't scheme and plot all the time. It would be such a shame to lose you simply because I forgot it. I will take better care of you, I promise."
His head spinning, Halsin tried not to think of the secret he had kept from her. He buried it under the relief at being forgiven, and the shock of seeing Mistress so vulnerable. It was all too much. He had been floundering in the churning waves of his own emotions, and now he was drowning.
"Lie down with me." Mistress didn't raise her voice above a whisper. Maybe she couldn't. Halsin didn't trust himself to speak, even if he had known what to say to her. He wanted the day to be over, to flee all of this for as long as he could. It seemed Mistress had the same wish, pulling the blanket over them both and hiding back in his embrace once they had stretched out.
Sleep came for Halsin, his exhaustion too great for him to find his way into reverie.
There were no dreams.
Chapter 15
Chapter 1