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Down the drain, the antidote to my new compulsion went. Seeing it wasted, I wanted to cry, shout that it was mine. Wanted to fall to my knees and scoop it up, put it inside me, and hold it in.
Roaring his climax, he spurted again and again, calculated in his observation of my reaction.
Part of me loved watching him this way, the veins in his neck straining, cruel lips parted, Cyderial panting in his solitary pleasure.
But mostly, I was restless, caged. And he loved it.
He loved that I was twitching and tense, loved that no amount of sweet-scented air might change my growing sense of outrage.
Flexing his power over me—how he made my body crave—was underhanded. Cruel dominance was established. Now, I knew. If I wanted him to pleasure me, I had to ask… or wait for heat. Until one of those two situations was present, he would not give.
I would have to admit I had needs, even if they were needs I had not asked for.
When the final spurt of white cream came, he caught it up with that demonic, long tongue, pulling it into his mouth.
It was clear he meant to kiss me, stalking forward with a mouthful of what should have been mine. I was already snarling outrage when he dipped that coated tongue deep into my mouth and rolled his taste anywhere he might reach.
Every bit of my brain screamed that I should have been disgusted, gagging or biting him in response to such an affront.
But I was moaning against him, chasing his tongue for more.
Why had I not fallen to my knees and sucked him dry when I had the chance?
How long would I have to wait to get what I needed?
Rubbing against him like a feral cat, slick ran hot down my thigh, but there was nothing to sate me.
This wasn’t heat; it was something else.
Something I could put an end to if I might just get myself under control.
“That was so mean!” I whined when he pulled his tongue from my mouth.
Smug, he licked his lips, backing away from where I had once again become one with the wall. “Now, imagine how I felt every time I heard your song over the last ten years and could not have you.”
He sounded so relaxed, the exact opposite of my shrill complaint. “Was this some kind of punishment, because I don’t want to be with you at the academy?”
“No.” Smug was not a strong enough word. Cyderial was in a state of full-blown arrogance. “You could have had me for the asking. You chose to pretend you do not desire your mate. From now on, if you find yourself eager for my cock, you ask for it. And if you do, I will fuck you until you see stars.”
* * *
After the frustrating shower, my day took an unexpected turn.
While blotting me dry with soft towels, he told me he had a surprise. “To show you that I do not intend to repeat the mistakes of my predecessors, we're going to get dressed, and I’m taking you to visit your mother.”
Shrieking with unexpected joy, I smiled until my cheeks hurt. “But you don’t like humans!”
“I will tolerate her for your sake.” Thoroughly pleased with himself, Cyderial ordered me to be still so he might finish removing all remaining water droplets. And then he gave me a wonderful gift.
Female clothing.
A very pretty dress. Soft pink, with gossamer layers that floated down to my knees. Cut to my exact measurements, so nothing pinched.
And as it was designed for a woman, there was no need to bind my breasts.
Instead, the garment enhanced my feminine form, made me feel utterly female. Yet it was modest and comfortable.
And I could not stop smiling, the little tug at the corners of my lips refusing to fade even with my bashfulness that he could see how strongly such an offering affected me.
