Lord Cavish’s bedroom was all dark woods and plush fabrics the color of ferns. Yirel stood in the midst of it, arms wrapped around himself in uncertainty. Cavish would be joining him any moment now, and then… He shivered. 

What was he going to do about this? The answer was simple; whatever Cavish wanted him to. There was no other option, unless he wanted to give himself over to ruination and poverty. For the hundredth time in a handful of minutes, he cursed himself for being too weak to deny what he knew was a dangerous inclination. 

The allure of the forbidden had proved too much temptation, and now he was paying the price. He belonged to Cavish as surely as a dog. 

He wiped at his eyes, the flow of tears hadn’t ended yet, and he doubted they would anytime soon. It didn’t help that he was still floating on a cloud of bubbly wine… Or maybe it did. At least this way, there was a fuzzy layer between him, his emotions, and the world at large. He flinched and looked up as the door opened, and Cavish walked in. Glittering eyes looked him over, leering, and the door closed with a soft click behind him. 

Yirel turned to face him, his mouth going dry. Cavish took a step towards him, and Yirel took one back. Again and again, until he bumped back against the bed. Cavish closed the distance and grabbed his chin. “There’s nowhere for you to run, Quaice. But you know that already, don’t you?” He dragged a thumb over Yirel’s bottom lip, smearing away the last of the color that had lingered.

He nodded, and looked away as another tremble shook him. Rhindov chuckled, and the next thing he knew, Yirel was lifted and tossed onto the bed like he was no more than a particularly oddly shaped pillow. He gasped as he landed, and in less than a heartbeat Cavish was over him, holding his wrists against the bed over his head and kissing him hard. 

It was nothing like the first one, when Cavish had been attempting a seduction of sorts. This was demanding and forceful, and to his chagrin, Yirel responded to it. His mouth was forced open, and Cavish’s tongue thrust inside. Yirel gasped and pressed back on the bed, trying to pull away even as heat pooled in his groin. A growl reverberated through the kiss, and he stilled instantly. 

“Ngh… that’s right…” Cavish murmured against his lips, biting the bottom one gently and pulling it. “Keep your hands where they are.” He licked across Yirel’s lips and leaned back, trailing his hands down his arms towards his chest. Yirel panted softly and watched him, wary of what might happen next. 

He was utterly unprepared for Cavish to grip the front of the dress and attempt to tear it down. A startled half-cry pushed from his lips as he jolted and the seams tore. “N-no..!” The damage to the dress upset him more than anything else, and he looked up at Cavish with freshly watering eyes. The lord raised a brow at him, and Yirel flushed. Looking away he murmured, “Not the… please don’t ruin the dress…” 

Cavish chuckled. “Alright, Darling-” he leaned over and purred into his ear- “I’ll ruin you instead.” 

Yirel shuddered. His eyes fluttered closed as he sagged against the bed, and Rindov tugged more gently on the dress, inching the necking lower and lower. “Show me your rosebuds, and spread your legs like a good whore.”

Blushing hard as he leaned back, Yirel shimmied and drew his arms out from the sleeves, pulling himself up out of the lace top. His nipples scraped on the edge, hardening them in advance of the Lords’ plans. The neckline sat just under his chest now, almost framing him as he put his hands back next to his head. He spread his legs, but could only go as far as Cavish’ which caged his. With doe like eyes he stared up at him, waiting with nervous anticipation.

The Lord wasn’t looking at his face anymore, he was pushing the skirt up, his hands gliding over the stockings on Yirel’s legs, then the bare skin of his thighs. He couldn’t stop the small sigh that pushed past his lips at the feel of those strong hands on him. With the silk bunched up around his waist, and all the flimsy lingerie on display, Yirel squeezed his eyes shut again. He didn’t want to see the look on Cavish’s face, knowing it must be some mixture of disgust and anger along with the lust ‘Darling’ had engendered. So it was a surprise then, when Cavish spoke softly and teased a finger around his half hard cock trapped under the lace panties. “No wonder you were so easily able to fool us all. You’ve a perfect form for such a deception…” 

He cupped his hand over Yirel’s crotch again, groping and rubbing him, pulling a startled gasp and moan from the young man. His other hand smoothed back down his leg and pushed off his slipper before scooping under his knee and lifting it over his hip and around his waist. Yirel wasn’t fooled by the sudden gentleness though, he knew it wasn’t for his sake. Cavish was exploring him and testing out the textures and grace of his form in the way that one might examine a race horse, or hunting hound. It was a learning of his body so that the best method of usage could be found. 

His other leg was summarily lifted into place around Cavish’s waist, the slipper stayed though as he was far more invested in touching more sensitive areas. Yirel turned his head to the side and bit his lip, trying and failing to stop the sounds that were pulled from him as Cavish brought his prick to hardness under his hand, the other one going to tweak his nipples in tandem. His hands clutched the blankets on either side of his head as he gasped and squirmed. 

“You like this, don’t you Darling? You want to deny it but can’t.”

Yirel shuddered and whimpered. It was true. He didn’t want to like it, but he did. He shouldn’t like this, right? But he couldn’t help his hips from rolling into the touch, his back from arching and pushing his chest up to the fingers that pulled and pinched and twisted his nipple until it was a hard aching nub. It must be due to the wine he’d drunk that he was succumbing so readily to his debasement, it must be. His lips were taken again, and Cavish thrust his tongue into his mouth repeatedly, a rough parody of what he’d be doing to him in a few minutes. It made him moan just to imagine. 

Cavish moved his hand away from his groin, and Yirel whined, his hips straining forward to keep the contact. Shame and lust mixed in his mind, balanced perfectly. So even when Cavish chuckled and tears pricked at his eyes, his body still begged for more. 

He wasn’t left without the friction he craved for long. Cavish made quick work of freeing his own cock, and then ground their hips together hungrily with a low growl. Yirel moaned again. Just feeling the weight and heat from his engorged member rubbing against him was enough to spark his lust up. Thick, and long, and ready to plunge into him…

Yirel shuddered. He doubted Cavish would be gentle with him. That was a daunting prospect, even as a traitorous part of himself ached for it. He’d only had two lovers before, and neither of them had come remotely close to the way Cavish dominated him now. His legs were being pushed up against his chest. “Hold your legs here, Darling, so I can get a good look at your cunt,” he murmured. Yirel felt his cheeks heat to a flaming blush, even as he did what he’d been told to. Cavish groaned and thrust against him a few more times before he leaned back once more and slid the back of the panties off his ass.

He peeked up at Cavish from under his lashes. The Lord was looking down at him with more need than he’d ever seen on anyone’s face before, such lust that Yirel was left breathless just from witnessing it. And his cock. Oh ancestors. The hooded, bulbous head rested in the crook of his leg between his thigh and groin, already slicked with a pearl of cum beaded at the coffee dark tip. His hands tightened on his thighs as he held his legs up and open for Cavish, his own light toffee colored skin shivering. He tented the front of the underwear he wore, straining against the feminine material and dampening the front. 

His asscheeks were gripped and spread, the pad of a thumb pressed against his puckered star. Yirel gasped and flinched away. Or tried to. Cavish’s grip on him was unyielding, and he pulled him closer. “I already told you there’s nowhere for you to run Darling. You’re mine until I don’t want you anymore.” He rubbed his thumb over his hole. Yirel made a small noise for him and nodded. 

Cavish chuckled once more, the hand not teasing his entrance going into his coat pocket to dig out a small bottle. With a practiced flick of his fingers the top came off, and the scent of honeysuckle flooded the air around them. The oil was dribbled over his twitching hole and Cavish’s digit, and he smeared it around with a firm swipe of his thumb up to just under his balls. Yirel bit his lip and held his breath, not wanting to give voice to the pleasure that gave him, even as his hips rolled into the sensation. More oil was spilled over him, and a long finger breached his flesh. A wavering gasp broke from him. 

“Such a tight hole…” Cavish groaned over him, the finger pushing in to the third knuckle and wriggling around against his inner walls. “I can’t wait to feel your pussy around me Darling. I’ll get you nice and wet first though, don’t worry,” he murmured with a dark pur. 

Yirel gasped, ass and cock twitching as Cavish fingered him. The way he called him Darling still, talked about his body like that… Why did it make him more excited, and not less? He really must be wicked to enjoy that. Another moan left him as more oil and another finger were added. They speared him and stretched him, touching deep inside as Cavish’s thumb rubbed between his sac and hole. “Hngh...ah~ Ahh…” He held his legs open, gasping and unable to keep his sounds to himself as his hips moved back against the hand that prepared him. Cavish leaned over him, and more, louder sounds were called out as his lips wrapped around his nipple. His tongue flicked over his flesh, back and forth until Yirel was squirming and pushing up against his mouth. “Ngh, oh, oh ancestors, Cavish,” he gasped out. He loved it. He was being used, blackmailed into letting it happen at all and he liked it. He was hopeless.