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One that had been put away like a tool no longer required. Eventually, he would come back, use me, and then… what? Make me sleep when he remembered his mate was troublesome and argumentative?
I always had been when it came to him.
Was he at the academy right now, stealing the dreams of more students? After all, his mate was conveniently tucked away and out of trouble.
You are safe, his note said.
Not from him.
Trapped in his house. And I was indeed trapped, as I had tried the front door, only to find several complicated locks fully engaged.
I was free to move about the dwelling and had done so blatantly, leaving reminders of my presence in each space. If I saw a vase, I moved it to a more appropriate location. Knickknacks were rearranged in any way I saw fit.
A gilded cage for me to play in or go mad, thinking over how truly trapped I really was. And gilded it was. In a similar style to his office, all he possessed was beautiful, each room filled with exactly the kinds of things I would want to explore.
Uncut gemstones, geodes, native fossils, living toxic flowers in pretty pots. The walls were all soft shades, the furniture feminine and inviting. Every window was polished, every surface free of dust.
This level of cleanliness went beyond a standard cleaning robot’s protocol. The male had taken pleasure in maintaining his home to his militant standards.
So he could lock me in it.
Abandoning the terrace, I made my way inside, searching out a new distraction. Creeping around in the dark brought back the deceptively liberating sensations I had known sneaking through the academy at night. An agitated thrill that didn’t soothe or offer any real sense of achievement.
False freedom wasn’t enough.
The pretty things speckled shelves and table tops, and I touched all of them. Dug through drawers looking over private papers, fingered his books, curling my lip to find the journal I had seen him hold when I had first awoken in this place.
A Guidebook on Pleasing Young Mates.
Handwritten by some hybrid chauvinist who must have stolen another unwilling female to torment for fun, no doubt.
Flipping through the well-read pages, I imagined males trading these copies with one another, a secret library of hybrid sex manuals waiting for any man who wanted information.
While the females had nothing.
Your young matewill be nervous, no matter how attentive you are to her sexual pleasure. Every choice you make will have consequences, so you must be prepared to deal with them as they arise. Excessive firmness will result in resistance. Overcoddling poor behavior will result in her insecurity. Females require strong mates. Yet never forget, there is a fine line between overpowering a woman and leaving her to her whims.
You will not earn her honest submission if you are not worthy of it. You will not be worthy of it if you cannot conquer her.
Give her options, and guide her with care. Should she be a female of extraordinary heat, do not let her suffer. Give her means to ease the transition.
Bathe her.
Feed her.
Fuck her often.
Should it be required, submit her completely so she understands your ability to curb counterintuitive behavior and that you will wield authority over her when necessary.
Affection will develop naturally over time. Be patient.
Rapt,I read on. Cyderial had followed many of the suggestions, touching me in places the author recommended. Employing gentle language and compliments. There were detailed diagrams of female anatomy the likes of which I had never seen. The name for each nerve in my newly open slit and even greater detail on nerve bundles deep in my reproductive tract. Actual diagrams of what the female body underwent during opening, and detailed descriptions of how the male might assist to ease pain.
I looked weird inside, a labyrinth of twists and turns, specific nerves that must be stimulated by a dancing male organ. There were even exercises the man was suggested to memorize for maximum effect.
Not to mention that the soft seam between my legs, which seemed straightforward in appearance, was actually the mouth of a stretchable passageway lined with rings of muscle that would give a male pleasure—delicate and ready to be extorted with the proper method and a powerful cock.
Knowing the general had meticulously practiced every last technique over the ten years he had prepared for me. Imagining him naked, flexing and contracting that prehensilethingbetween his legs, learning the intricate performances needed to stimulate nerves to relax me, nerves to sexually excite me, nerves to make me climax until I saw stars….
