Chapter 232: Turning PointAlexandra Erin on July 30, 2014 in Volume 2 Book 7: Courtly Manners, Volume 2: Sophomore Effort
In Which Mackenzie Rolls Over And Takes It
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Glory sunk down into the sea of satin until she was neck-deep. She must have sat or knelt down, though the movement was so fluid that she might as well have had a section of the floor slowly sink away beneath her feet. Her arms broke the surface, and she reached up with both hands towards the waist of my jeans.
I would have expected her to unsnap the button or undo my belt at the very least, but she simply grabbed the belt loops on the sides and started to pull gently. There was very little sensation of tugging or resistance of any kind, and my jeans began to slide… belt and all… down off my ass, as easily as if she had been peeling tights.
“…how?” I said. Understand, I had worn my tightest pair of dark jeans.
“Like this,” she said.
“That’s not what I meant,” I said, feeling the denim sliding with uncharacteristic smoothness against my skin of my thighs.
“Watch,” she said, pulling the jeans free of my knees.
“That… shouldn’t work like that,” I said. Once free of my hips and ass, and thighs, they really should have just sort of popped off like… well, like pants made of slightly stiff fabric. Instead, they continued to cling just slightly, just enough.
“Or don’t watch, if it bothers you,” Glory said. “Just lie back.”
“Lie back,” she repeated. The tone was not imperious or bossy. It did not demand, and it barely commanded. It was the gentlest of gentle suggestions.
I took it without complaint, without a second thought.
It was a good thing that I was lying on a surface made of pillows, because there was no chance of reclining gracefully. I just shifted my balance backwards and collapsed into the artificial cloud bank. Glory finished removing my jeans. I heard them hitting the floor. Somehow, I imagined them landing neatly folded instead of puddled into a pile like they were when I discarded them… or at least, when I used to. I giggled a little at the realization that even though I’d stopped leaving my clothes on the floor for Glory, here she was littering her own floor with them.
“I think I’m going to have to start paying you in underwear,” she said.
“You can give me underwear if you want,” I said. “But let’s not blur our financial relationship and… whatever else. I think things are pretty nice as they are.”
“Really? Because apparently I don’t pay you enough to have anything that nice.”
“I wasn’t really expecting you to see my underwear tonight,” I said. “I have a few frilly things, but I save them for special occasions. Is that your way of telling me that me that touching my granny panties is somehow beneath you?”
“Just for that, Mackenzie Blaise, you can take your own panties off,” she said.
“And what would you do if I don’t?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she said.
“Then why should I?”
“Because maybe the time will come when you don’t want me to do nothing,” she said.
“Well, it’s better than losing them in the bottomless pit,” I said. Getting them off took a little bit more wriggling around than it would have if I’d been on a solid surface, but I managed to remove the panties and tossed them safely over the edge.
I then looked at Glory, who was still submerged in the pillows, leaning improbably on the surface as if the whole mass was liquid where she needed it to be but solid as the edge of a swimming pool where she needed it to be that.
She had been avidly watching the whole process.
Her eyes were firmly fixed on my face. Her expression was unreadable.
“Now… someone’s supposed to be resting,” she said.
“Whose fault is it that I’m not already?”
“When you opened your mouth instead of lying back, it became yours,” she said.
I couldn’t argue with that… well, I could have, but I didn’t see a way to do so without proving her point, so I reclined. She climbed up, exactly the way someone might crawl up a series of steps, and ended up lying half in and half out of the pillows, right next to me.
“I thought you didn’t want to sleep by me,” I said.
“I’m not sleeping,” she said.
“I thought the idea was for me to rest.”
“You can sleep, if you want,” she said. “You said you sleep better with people around you, anyway.
“Do you have any blankets?” I asked her.
“No… I have pillows.”
“I might have to boost the warming spell,” I said.
“You will donothing of the sort,” she said, reaching her arms around my middle and then somehow pulling me down among the pillows with her, the circle of her arms moving down the length of my body to draw my waist and legs down so that only my head and shoulders broke the surface.
“I don’t understand how you can do that,” I said.
“It’s as easy as walking.”
I didn’t want to say so because of a combination of not wanting to admit ignorance and not being sure how Glory would take it, but I didn’t understand how she walked, either. Elves had a way of moving through the world as if they weren’t quite part of it.
I called their typical stride “gliding” for lack of a better description. I mean, they walked. Their legs moved. But the whole thing was so unnaturally fluid, so unearthly graceful. Steff was only half-elven, and I’d seen her run like the wind itself without apparently varying her stride. Watching her legs when she did it could give you vertigo.
“I’m not sure how I’m going to be able to get out of this in the morning,” I said.
“Can you get out of it now?” she asked.
I moved my arms. The pillows, slicker than silk and lighter than down, simply gave way around them. I couldn’t really see, but it didn’t seem like it was quite as fluid for me as it was for Grace, but I certainly wasn’t getting enough resistance to push off of them.
“No,” I said.
“Good,” she said placidly, with an air of contentment. “Then you should get plenty of rest. I have to imagine Amaranth would approve, both of you being confined to bed for the night, and requiring release in the morning… I imagine you’d have some approval for that idea, too.”
“…maybe,” I admitted, blushing. “But I like to know before I’m going to be restrained.”
“I didn’t set out to restrain you, Mackenzie Blaise… is it my fault you don’t understand how pillows work?”
“Are all the beds here like this?”
“No, mine is the only one this large,” she said. “And only a few of the others have pillow beds, and those all have larger cushions. They’re hand-made, you see.”
“It’s certainly an unusual experience,” I said, hoping I sounded more positive than politely neutral. “I’ wouldn’t count on me getting much sleep, though… it’s not exactly my usual position, and I’m not used to the sensation at all.”
“I think you’ll come to like it,” she said.
“I didn’t say I don’t like it,” I said. “It just might be too strange and new for me to sleep.”
“Well, let me know if you need an alternate arrangement,” she said. “As I said, most of the beds here would be more conventional, to your experiences.”
“Okay,” I said, but I wasn’t any keener on kicking one of Glory’s friends out of their room than I had been before. Regardless of how long the pose of queen and court continued, they were her friends and I didn’t want to give them any particular cause to resent me.
In spite of my doubts, I fell asleep soon after Glory stopped talking. The pillows around me were neither warm nor cold, nor even cool. They seemed to have no temperature of their own, which meant I was basically suspended alone with my own not inconsiderable body heat, Glory’s slim arms a tolerably cool circle around my torso. Maybe it was the strangeness of my surroundings or the unaccustomed physical sensations, but my dreams… while vibrant… were not vivid in detail.
My dreams were passion, fragmentary and frightening and fantastic.
Eventually and almost right away, they resolved themselves into Glory leaning over me, her hands on my shoulders. I let out a hoarse, half-paralyzed shout, more out of surprise than fear… though honestly, there’s always going to be a bit of fear when you wake up suddenly in the middle of the night and there’s a face in front of yours.
“What happened to letting me sleep?” I asked, when I was awake enough to get the words out.
“You were thrashing around,” she said. “I thought you were frightened, or hurt.”
“Oh,” I said, and then I considered what might have prompted that impression, and blushed. “I… think I was probably okay.”
“I was afraid that maybe something had happened to drop your power levels even further,” she said.
“That wouldn’t cause me to do anything except pass out,” I said.
“I don’t know what happens if they keep dropping when you’re already past that point,” she said. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah,” I said. “It was… it was just a dream, Glory.”
“Oh, bad dreams?” she said, and she slipped down into the pillows and sliding beneath me. She floated up until her front was in contact with my back, and as she put her arms around me and drew herself in close, I realized with a shivery start that I could feel her bare skin against mine.
“I wouldn’t exactly say bad,” I said.
“Oh?” She said. “Oh…”
“So the rumors are true,” Glory said.
“They don’t really count as rumors if you’re overhearing us talking among ourselves,” I said.
“Were you dreaming about me?”
“Possibly,” I said.
“Is that you being coy, or do you not remember?”
“I remember my dream… sort of,” I said. “I just think it was not very clear at the time. I wasn’t really dreaming about anyone or anything, I was just… dreaming.”
“Dreaming about sex,” Glory said.
“Not really,” I said.
“Dreaming sex, then,” she said.
“If sex is an emotion, yeah, maybe.”
“Why not? Love is an emotion, they tell me,” she said. “When you get down to it, I think emotions are all feelings and actions. I mean, do you really love someone if you don’t act on it? Do you hate them if you only do it in your head?”
“I’m pretty sure you do,” I said.
“You have no philosophy in your soul,” she said, sinking back down into the pillows and slipping an arm around me. Her arm was bare. I was pretty sure her side was, too. “No poetry.”
“If you want poetry, I can introduce you to a dwarf. Didn’t you tell me you have silk pajamas?”
“Why, do you want to try them on?”
“It’s just… are you naked, Glory?”
“When in the Mother City…”
“This is your bedroom,” I pointed out. “I’m the guest.”
“And I want you to feel at home,” she said, curling in close against me.
“This… this doesn’t feel like home to me,” I said, and immediately regretted it, because it still felt nice.
“Do you want me to get dressed?”
“Do you want me to move?”
Neither one of us said anything for a bit after that, and for a while I thought I would probably simply drift back to sleep. This time, it wasn’t happening. Maybe I was too aware of the cool body next to mine. I wasn’t thinking about anything in particular about that body, but I was taking a lot of pains to be thinking about nothing in particular.
“Mackenzie Blaise?” Glory said, into the darkness and the stillness.
“You know, I really didn’t ask you here to have sex,” Glory said. “And that’s not why I wanted you to stay the night.”
“I know,” I said, feeling guilty and wondering what had given it away. “I wasn’t going to try anything, I promise.”
“I know you weren’t,” Glory said. “But I was… am… and I just wanted to make sure you knew.”
“Oh,” I said.
“Would you like that?”
“What… what did you…”
“It’s your nipples,” she said. “Your breasts. Tits. I love that word. It’s so… cute and vulgar. Humanity in a nutshell. I can’t stop thinking about the piercings, ever since you mentioned that you only notice them when someone plays with them.”
“You want to play with them,” I guessed. I was thinking about them now rather than her. It was hard not to… any time my nipples started to harden, they sort of… asserted themselves.
“Yes… should I?”
I closed my eyes. Without the ceiling above me, I could have been floating in the air, riding on Glory’s cool form like the world’s narrowest magic carpet.
“Please,” I breathed.
Her hand moved up from around my stomach. I shuddered as her cold fingers touched my breast. Tit was a word that never failed to feel phony in my mouth, or even my mind. It was the kind of word I was more likely to use out of frustration than any erotic purpose. It didn’t seem cute to me. But then, I didn’t seem cute to me. Glory thought I was cute, and that made me feel cute… the same was true of the word, coming from her.
Her hand found the heart-shaped lock that was threaded through my left nipple, and then she jerked it away with a cry. I had the impression of a flapping motion off to the side, somewhere in the sea of pillows.
“Ooh,” she moaned. I couldn’t tell if it was pain or arousal… it sounded like pain, but there was a breathy undertone.
“Glory?” I said. “Are you okay?”
“You have steel in you, you dirty, dirty girl,” she whispered.
“Oh!” I said. “Sorry, I didn’t think about that… they only give Steff a rash if she handles them too long.”
“My fault for not recognizing them… I have a lot of faux iron and steel ornaments, so I didn’t even think about it,” she said. “But of course, you’d have no need for the fake stuff.”
“I’d take them out, but they’re bound to a word that only Amaranth knows,” I said.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “It was a shock… I just wasn’t expecting…
I thought that would have been the end of her sexual impulses, but she gripped my hips with both hands and then trailed her way up my body to cup both my breasts in her hands, squeezing so that each of her palms were pressed against one of the piercings. She moaned and writhed underneath me.
“Is this what humans feel like all the time?” she breathed. “Walking around, in their… unh… chainmail with their… swords and… ahhh…”
I didn’t know what she was feeling, exactly, but I was pretty sure it was if not completely elven-specific, then at least not something that anyone felt all the time.
“What’s it feel like?” I asked. “Does it hurt?”
“No,” she said. “Not really… not really hurts. It just feels… wrong.”
She convulsed with that word, squeezing my tits in her hands as she did, and that definitely hurt.
“And you like that?” I said, once the wave of pain had subsided.
“I love it,” she said. “Mackenzie… Mackenzie Blaise… I have to fuck you.”
“How?” I asked.
“Finger,” she said. “To start. Hand.”
“Okay,” I said after a pause, because I didn’t have a whole lot of experience with other people touching around my pussy with their hands, much less penetrating it. It wasn’t something I tended to look for, but this was… different. I mean, everything was different. It was someone new, somewhere new, and the whole thing was surreal, and that made me feel adventurous.
A few seconds later, I remembered that Glory meant something different when she said “fuck” without modifiers. I was also okay with trying that, but I was maybe a little less braced for it than I would have been when her finger found my asshole.
There was a bit more resistance from me than there had been from the pillows, but… not much. I’d been fucked in the ass before, mostly by Steff. I had some idea of what the mysterious elven movement talent could do in that area, but there was quite a difference between a full elf with four decades of experience being a sexual being and a half elf who was barely out of adolescence.
I probably couldn’t describe the sensation any better than Glory could explain what steel felt like against her skin. I was tight as ever, but she was loose inside me. It was… it was a bit like having my jeans peeled off, really, only I was the jeans. It shouldn’t have worked. It really shouldn’t.
She worked me.
One finger, then two.
Her other hand was still on my left breast, clamped firmly in place. I could smell Glory’s blood somewhere, but it wasn’t on her hand. It was somewhere beneath me, behind me. The way she was moaning, I thought she must have been biting her lip.
I couldn’t understand what Glory got out of it. Preternatural movement capabilities or not, she only had two hands and they were both well accounted for.
Still, she was obviously in ecstasy. Who was I to judge? I got off from being spanked, when it was done right… I had no explanation for that. I was like a crossbow with a hair trigger, really. It didn’t take much of anything to get me going, and pretty much any kind of sustained pressure would get me there.
I’d got off from far less than Glory was giving me, though what I felt was mostly strangeness and pain. She’d slipped a third finger inside me now, and no matter smoothly she could move them in and out, I was still being stretched from the inside out.
A couple times, I’d gone on the ethernet to try to learn more about anal, mostly to see if I could figure out how to do it more easily with Ian. One thing that was almost constant was the advice that if it was done right it should never hurt, that pain was a red flag and a sign to stop every time.
I’d never managed it without pain, and I’d stopped paying attention to the advice… all it did was make me feel like I was doing it wrong. I think the problem was that I never managed to relax as fully as the weavesites wanted me to. I wasn’t sure it was possible for me to do so. I wasn’t sure I wanted to. Pain was part of sex to me. Why fight so hard to escape it? If someone was going to take me, I wanted to be taken.
And Glory… Glory took me.
There was very little physical pleasure in it at first… only the leading edge of arousal to leaven the spikes of pain with a masochistic thrill as she worked her way inside me. There was satisfaction, though, a kind of mental/emotional pleasure I always got from being… I would have said “handled like that”, but the fact was no one had ever quite handled me the way Glory was.
Then she had her whole hand inside me, and with that came a sudden freedom of movement that she put to use.
At some point, she’d let go of my breast. She rolled me over, standing up in a fluid motion as she did so that she could push down against me instead of fighting upwards. This drove me to the bottom of the pillow bed, until my face was pressed against a wicker-like surface at the bottom of it.
One of the things that I’d found out on the weave was that there’s a raging debate about whether or not you need a penis and related equipment to get off on anal, and neither side is really willing to yield to the other on it. I don’t know much about the scholarly merits of the two sides, but in terms of practical experience, I can say that it’s definitely possible.
Maybe those of us who don’t’ have a prostate are missing out on something amazing, I don’t know… but our sensitive internal bits are all packed in just as tightly in the same general area, and Glory knew exactly what she was doing.
It… wasn’t restful, though the points at which I blacked out a bit had more to do with the twin overload of pleasure and pain than my low energy levels. Glory’s way of fucking… I had to call it that because it wasn’t making love, and even having sex seemed unnecessarily euphemistic… was brutal and direct. It was a cold, icy brutality, but brutality all the same.
I hoped her pillows were easier to clean than they were to move around in, because I gushed buckets as I came… I came, and I kept going until I thought there was nothing left to give. Then Glory ripped herself free of me and I let out what I thought was one final, body-shuddering gasp… until her foot came down on the back of my head, driving my face so hard into the woven bottom of the bed that I could feel the floor beneath it, and I twitched spasmodically through another full-body orgasm.
I told you that I had a hair trigger. Once someone really got me going, I could be a runaway wagon rolling downhill.
Glory’s hand caught my hair and yanked me up off the floor, but not quite to the surface of the bed. She shifted my body into a more horizontal position… I’d sort of drifted into an almost vertical one during her ministrations… and then I heard the soft rustle of the pillows as her legs slid up through them.
Her voice wafted down from directly above me.
“Sleep well, Mackenzie Blaise.”