Page 69 of Jinxes and Drumsticks

“It’s not, like, all the time,” she says. “And only special people really at the center of the ritual! It’s not, like, magical orgies or anything. I mean—not usually during the actual ritual.”

“I’m more and more into the idea of this Buried City thing,” I say, waggling my eyebrows.

“As if I’d be inclined to share you.”

“Who says you have to share? I’d be the one sharing,” I say, brushing hair away from her face and pulling her back down to where I’m lying.

She rests her chin on my chest and examines me for a few moments. “Are you... like, into cuckolding or something? You said that whole thing about sharing. I just assumed you were joking.”

I shake my head. “Not joking, no. But I like to be an active participant. I just don’t feel particularly threatened by my partners getting to feel good when it comes to bedroom activities.”

“You mentioned discussing limits earlier...” she prompts.

I nod. “Yeah. I think we ought to, if you’re open to it. Good for us to be on the same page.”

“And what page is it that we’re starting on?”

“Well,” I say, brushing my fingers down the line of her spine. “Suffice to say I’m a bit of a kinky fucker. Like, the real thing—not some Fifty Shades bullshit.”

She nods. “Alright, would you say you lean more dominant?”

“Yes,” I say without hesitating. “Have you explored much kink before?”

She shakes her head. “Not in the structured way I think you mean. There’s not much of a community here for that—I think the town is too small. It’s too easy to run into your dentist or your mail carrier or something.”

Something warm spreads in my stomach, and I adjust myself just slightly, so my growing arousal doesn’t jut into her stomach. “But with your previous partners...”

“I’ve dabbled, I guess,” she says breathlessly.

“Tell me,” I say quietly.

“In how much detail?”

“However much you’re willing to share.”

She inhales in preparation and looks away, a habit I make note of that I’ll have to train out of her. I want her to look at me when we’re discussing these things.

“Well—ah, my first real sexual experience was with a member of a fae court during one summer solstice when I was nineteen. He glamoured me—c-consensually, of course. It was discussed before he did it. He was very polite and he only used enough of that power to make everything feel incredible for me.”

I nod, not really sure what all these words mean, but putting things together I think. “So, he did something to enhance your experiences with him. Like a mental thing?”

She nods. “Yes. A glamour is a sort of trance state that fae can induce to make other people more malleable and compliant. He was respectful when I told him I didn’t want to go, er... Well, all the way with him.”

“So, what did you do with him?”

“I just obeyed. He mostly used my mouth. He wasn’t exactly gentle, but the glamour made me feel like I was the luckiest woman alive to have him choose me. He also wanted me to use his mouth.” The flush in her cheeks offsets the mental image of her blissed out and dreamy as she gets her throat fucked and grinds against some stranger’s face.

“And you liked that?”

“Very much so,” she says, the quality of her words sweetly timid despite the readiness with which she says them.

“What else?” I ask.

“Bastion very magnanimously offered to take my virginity when I made it to 21 without it happening yet,” she says, her tone going a little stilted. “Blindfolds were involved... and some restraints.”

“What kinds?”

“Well-conditioned jute rope,” she says.