Fair Fight (3)

At the elf's apology, Theorad lifted his hand from her breast.

It wasn't because she had admitted defeat. He simply didn't understand what she thought she had done wrong.

Wasn't she the one who told me to touch her?

He had done exactly what she asked, drawing on what he'd read and the techniques Beynon had taught him. He hadn't expected her to become so overwhelmed, and now he felt sorry for her.

But that had never been his purpose.

Under their contract, he needed to seize the initiative in this contest to become the winner. That, he hoped, would give him a way to stop being pushed into sexual encounters whenever the elf wanted one.

I have to prevent her from talking her way around it again.

He decided to act like the cold-hearted master she had so often demanded he play. He told himself she liked being spoken to harshly, so neither of them would be harmed by the performance.

With that reasoning fixed in his mind, he hardened his expression and glared at her.

“What did you do wrong?”

His voice was sharp, but the question was genuine. He still didn't know what she had meant.

The elf misunderstood his intention. With her feelings in turmoil, she was frightened of losing his attention just when she most wanted it.

“…I tried to seduce Master in a foolish way.”

Theorad had not expected such an admission.

Tears gathered in her eyes.

“The truth is, I don't know how to seduce a man. Everything I did, I learned from books…”

She had said the very thing she had been desperate to hide.

Shame urged her to take it back, while desire and her wish for Theorad's closeness pulled in the other direction. She could hardly sort one feeling from another.

“I see,” Theorad said.

He, too, felt unsettled.

The elf so rarely acknowledged her mistakes. He wanted to reassure her that there was nothing terribly wrong with being inexperienced, that everyone made embarrassing mistakes.

But doing so would leave the contest unresolved, and he was determined to win.

He swallowed the words of comfort.

“You have the nerve to show such disrespect toward your master, even as his sex slave.”

The elf's red eyes widened.

She had expected gentleness. Instead, his performance grew harsher.

“Master, I—”

“Be quiet and lie down. You lied to your master, and now you intend to argue?”

She started to protest, then fell silent. Their established game of master and slave seemed to leave her little room to challenge him.

At the same time, she wondered if his stern act might still turn the contest in her favor. A passage in her book had claimed that men became carried away by the feeling of dominance. Perhaps, if he lost himself in the role, she could argue for postponing the contract's result.

That hope helped her endure his words.

She leaned forward and reached for a pillow.

Slap!

“Ah!”

Theorad had struck her buttock with his palm.

Startled, she turned to look at him, but he simply issued another order.

“Raise your hips.”

“I was going to—”

“No arguing. Have you forgotten who's your master?”

His voice was so imperious that it was becoming difficult to distinguish the role from genuine arrogance.

After hesitating, the elf complied, lifting her hips while keeping her upper body bent over the pillow.

Her black lace panties were damp from her earlier arousal.

“Just from me touching your breasts? How shameless.”

The elf lowered her face into the pillow rather than answer.

“And which of us is supposed to be satisfying the other's desires?” he demanded.

Unable to respond, she only grew more ashamed.

Theorad took hold of her panties and pulled them down to her thighs, leaving her exposed. He paused to observe how strongly her body was responding, despite her distress.

“Master…”

She clutched the pillow and spoke in a shaking voice.

“Because I was wrong…”

Her plea was an attempt to make him stop delaying and move on.

Theorad, playing the master, nevertheless understood that he could not simply disregard everything she said.

“Very well. You misbehaved. Then you should be punished.”

He touched her between the legs. She flinched, already sensitive from the earlier caresses.

He began to stimulate her with his fingers. Her breathing changed, and she struggled to control her reactions.

He took her growing response as a sign that he could proceed.

After a moment he opened her folds and inserted one finger.

The elf made a startled sound.

Her body tightened reflexively around his finger.

Theorad felt his own composure falter. Part of him wanted to give up on the contest and have intercourse with her immediately.

Calm down, Theorad.

That would hand her an argument that the outcome was unfair. He had resolved to win without surrendering to impulse.

He continued the stimulation, drawing on the techniques Beynon had taught him.

Then he withdrew his hand and inserted two fingers instead, carefully adjusting the pressure. With his free hand, he pressed against her lower abdomen.

“Ah… Don't do it…!”

The elf shook her hips as though trying to pull away.

Theorad did not stop.

He went on stimulating her while she gripped the bedspread. Her responses grew more intense, but her spoken refusal had not been withdrawn.

Her hold on the bedspread slackened. Theorad continued until she reached a climax, leaving his forearm and the bedding wet.

Only then did he withdraw his fingers.

“What a shameless bitch,” he said.

The elf buried her face in the pillow, ears drooping. She was mortified that her body had responded so strongly, and still couldn't reconcile this with her belief that she ought to have won without hypnosis or devices.

Why am I the one losing?

She looked back.

Theorad was removing his own underwear, preparing for intercourse. He leaned over her with a sneer, lightly stroking her silver hair.

He whispered in the cold voice of the master he was pretending to be:

“I'll fuck you like a dog.”

For the first time, the elf felt afraid of Theorad himself.