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There was ice in her eyes as she stepped into the room, carried on her reedy limbs, her eyes all for Salas. She looked at him as though she knew that he was there the entire time. As though she could see through the door and her gaze had been held on him.
She smiled as she gave a sweeping look over his arrangement on the bed, curled up in furs and pillows. “Now, that didn’t take Jareth long. I would at least have thought he would have waited until he returned to his human form. But fucking you on all fours in his beast form? A bit too primal for me.”
Salas found himself reddening, though only somewhat comprehending of whatever Victoria was implying. Whatever the insinuation, he knew it to be untrue.
“Why, little fae thing, you look a bit shocked to see me.” She turned away from him and began walking around the room leisurely, as though perusing through mediocre gardens, unimpressed by the greenery. “What, did you think that I would receive punishment for dropping you down the well? You’d think spending all that time on the southern beaches, you’d learn to float.”
Salas swallowed, watching her with the ominous feeling of being crowded in the room with an unpredictable predator. He did not, in fact, think that the witch would receive reprimand for nearly killing him. Why would she?
“But I didn’t. No one cares if you live or die, or what happens to you. If you’re left in a cell. Take a guard’s cock.” She giggled at that, almost to herself, as though remembering a private joke. “I can do anything I want, you wretched forest insect.” By now she had reached the hearth, and turned to drop herself in a side arm chair, facing the rest of the room, her eyes carefully resting on him like appraising a mut who’d torn up her sheets. “And I think I would like to see you on your knees.” The last part was spoken softly, a threat in the humming noise of a muse.
Salas only sat there, unmoving, unsure of what to do.
“There was no punishment on my end for yesterday, and yet...” She cocked her head, the flame making odd shapes on her thin, flat face. “It was still humiliating. Watching you carried from the well, instead of being executed, as you were supposed to be. As well as others saying I was in the wrong whiletheyhave not the slightest inclination of what it means to befae. Deceptive. Power-hungry. Manipulative. Tricksters. All of you.” The smile had slipped in her speech, but now it was back and she laughed, waving a careless hand at him. “But I suppose it does delight me that a great, powerful jinx has been reduced to mouthing mens’ balls whenever they should require it. Yes, there is a bit of justice in that…” She chuckled once more, darkly.
A moment passed where she simply stared at him, her head resting on the curve of a knuckle, perfectly at ease while he shook with trepidation.
“Come here,” she said suddenly.
Salas felt himself stiffen, an uncomfortable sweat sweeping his neckline as his blood pulsed rapidly at her request. Like a rabbit in the face of a hound, he froze.
“What, I thought you wanted to please this Kingdom, to get on our good side. Isn’t that why you presented to him when you met him? Hmm? Come. We will not like you if you aren’t obedient. And how can you obtain power if you aren’t liked?” Her voice would have been gentle if the acid hadn’t been so poor-concealed underneath. “I saidcome here.”
With the new tone, Salas noted the lack of choice and shot stiffly off the bed. Ignoring the crutch on the other side of the bed, he began to limp over with a growing sense of dread.
“Oh no, I heard the King snapped your leg into bits, he hates you so much. Why don’t you take a bit of pressure off of it?.” She paused, her eyes sweeping over his body lazily. “Crawl,” she demanded, her eyes merciless and following him down as he obediently lowered himself to the floor. “Now, don’t you want to be a good boy and show the King how behaved you can be? Come on now,” she nearly snapped when she saw that he had paused once on all fours.
Hesitantly, he crawled over the hard floor towards her, wincing whenever his left knee supported him. Once he was in front of her, he paused.
“Well?” She wondered thoughtfully, staring down on him as though she had spotted something insulting upon the heel of her boot. “It wasn’t a rhetorical question. Isn’t that what you want? To please people, and bedesiredfor it?”
Salas swallowed, unsure of how to answer. Memories of his wants and goals in Suscon seemed so impractical now. To please and be desired? That was part of it, making her assumption true enough. Yes, that had been what he wanted when first arriving to Diagor. Yet he had tried and failed so many times, he had begun to see this goal as an impossible achievement. Still, now that this cruel woman was asking, he couldn’t help the stir inside of him at the thought.
“Yes,” he said, smally.
Her eyes were now bright with laughter. Laughter that was directed at him, he realized, though could not place why. He knew she detested him, yet he did not understand the punchline of the joke, nor how he was it.
“Then,” she said, lifting up her skirt, and spreading her legs, “please me.”
She wore nothing beneath the skirt of her robes, and Salas immediately dropped his gaze to the floor upon the discovery.Please me, she had said. Was this the answer she was trying to show him? If he pleasured her, would the witch no longer feel such malicious feelings towards him? Was King Jareth the same? Is that why he’d been brought to the bed chamber?
Is there hope?
But Salas had given up hope. He’d let himself feel empty, knowing that the light on his horizon had flickered out. Therefore, it was nearly comical that the moment a hand was extended, from a woman who had tried to kill him, no less, he nearly attempted to take it immediately.
Perhaps there was still a chance to turn things around for himself. Perhaps he simply needed to please the people around the King to be in his good graces. Perhaps this was what the palace witch had wanted all along, and if she thought good of him, she would spread word of how delightful Salas was, as one did in Suscon when one received well-company. Perhaps then he would service the King and have a better standing.
This must have been what the witch was outlining for him in her proposition.
Salas lifted his gaze.
With trembling hands, he found his grip on the milky, plush part of her inner thighs. He gave a moment to recall the very few times he had serviced women in Suscon, yet none had been like this, with his face close to the channel of a woman.
He wanted to draw away at the overwhelming sense of wrongness coiling within him, yet still, dropping into the routine he so new, he pushed forward, past wrongness, as Eldron had often told him to do so.
He lifted a careful hand and pressed his fingers between her legs, massaging the pink flesh hesitantly, his fingers coating with slick. When two fingers slipped between her slit, sliding into her slippery channel with surprising ease by accident, he yelped and pulled back, while she let out a contented groan.
When he paused, Victoria sighed and shifted, adjusting her skirts. She laughed again, for some unknown reason. Then said, “Not your hand, little thing. Your tongue.”
