He cups all of me at once, the heel of his palm pressing into my mound and his sharp talons digging into the delicate flesh of my ass. A rumbling sound vibrates against my back and sends a delicious chill down my spine.
“This delicious honey is all mine now, Joanna. You make it only for me, from now on. It is my reward for serving you for the rest of eternity. Nourish me with your lust, your arousal, your darkest desires.”
A single, blunt finger slips into my pussy and I nearly come off his lap. Augustine’s grip on me tightens, the sands restraining me harder.
I am panting, biting my lips so hard it hurts even my teeth. As much as I want to shout with joyous relief, I can’t. I can’t interrupt the show. Trying desperately to focus as I was instructed to do. His finger strokes me slowly, with luxurious ease. An obscene, wet sound that I pray isn’t as loud as it seems, makes the heat rise in my cheeks and more slick drip from my slit. I have never been so wet, my body so willing to give and relax.
He slides a second finger into me embarrassingly easy, my pussy clamping down on the digits the moment he is knuckles deep in me. For a moment, Augustine holds them there. His palm rubs circles into my clit, while the two talon-tipped fingers outside of me tap along to the song being sung.
As the music builds, the singer’s voice grows stronger and louder to match the orchestra, so do his strokes. He pulls them out in time with music, making sure to drag the pads up with each stroke. It’s a teasing amount of pressure to mix with the almost unbearable press of his palm. Just as I think I am going to cum, when the coil in my belly tightens and is ready to snap, he removes his fingers.
The song ends.
I am gasping for air, for more pleasure, for him. I am so close to finishing. The orgasm from the car that was ripped away from me is screaming inside me and weeping for release. My skin is on fire, boiling sugar surging through my veins with each pump of my heart.
On stage, the curtain closes and lights slowly rise. Intermission.
“No,” I whimper.
“Would you like to get an ice cream?” Augustine asks coolly. The sands slither away from my overheated skin and a tear comes to my eyes.
He holds me tighter as he sits up slightly, encouraging me to stand. I turn to face him when I am again on my feet and can look down at him. There is a tickle at the back of my head and my mark aches with the second denial of the night. Slowly, he brings his two fingers to his lips and sucks my arousal off of them. My breath stutters and heat pools in my belly all over again.
The urge to stomp my foot like a child overwhelms me. Augustine stands before me, and my heeled foot collides with the carpet for this injustice. The plush carpet of the box silences the sound, but the huff that puffs out my cheeks shows my displeasure. He told me he wouldn’t make me cum until he could complete the bond. He didn’t say he would torture me.
I hate it.
I love it all the more.
He smirks down at me, placing my hand on his forearm and guiding me out of his box.
All the childish petulance leaves me when I’m passed the security of the curtain. My thighs rub ever so slightly together where my shapewear has been sliced. Slick arousal cools against them. I swear I can smell myself on Augustine’s breath as he leans down to my ear.
“Stay close to me. My respect for the others is minimal, and I do not want them to get ideas.”
He says ‘others’ with a level of haughty disdain that makes me scoff. It sounds like plain rudeness to me. There are other monsters here, blending in with the humans and enjoying an evening of fine food and theatre. He doesn’t need to sound like a dick about the whole thing.
“If we’re going to spend eternity together, you’re going to have to be lessholier than thouabout shit,” I say, trying to be a bit more relaxed with my word choice than I normally would be when we are something so fancy.
Just because he holds himself to a standard, doesn’t mean we all meet it. Augustine holds himself like he is a god among men. He clearly doesn’t believe that others, monster or human, are of a standard he appreciates. I certainly don’t meet the standards he clearly has, but here I am at his side. It seems like we both have something to work on as we move through eternity together.
“I simply know what I am worth, mon abeille, and I know what you are worth as well, especially to me. Let the commoners worship you from afar and know they will never be able to attain a queen like mine.”
This classist bullshit shouldn’t make me blush, but it does. As we round the corner in an indulgent and plush art deco-designed bar, my cheeks burn brightly and my pussy is way too interested in being worshipped. I try to remind myself that as amazing as my dreams are now, real-world antics are a much different story. This world has rules, laws that we have to follow. My free hand brushes over the warm spot on my neck in a nervous tick I’ve developed.
As we approach the bar, I see the heads turn. Augustine walks with ease and grace while I stumble along next to him trying to make sure my skirt doesn’t ride up and that I am keeping my gut sucked in. Not that there is much more I can do with my Span, even being unable to hide my food baby. A few people nod at Augustine, but most just avert their eyes once I catch them staring.
One person does approach us. He is about my height, broad and barrel-chested. His charcoal suit is finely fitted, and he appears to be in his late fifties. In the back of my head, I feel a hint of disgust, but I push it aside. My brain is too busy making me feel like a sausage stuffed in this dress with how the man’s eyes keep darting from me back to Augustine.
“Mr. Ravenscroft.” The man’s voice is rumbling, if not a bit grating. “You haven’t felt the need to grace us with your presence in a long while.”
“I have been very busy, as of late, and before that, I saw little point in conversing with you.” He responds, voice as dry as his sands.
“Augustine.”
I can’t keep the chastisement out of my tone, even as my lips perk up. It is rude, but it is also funny. To feel so aghast over his statement makes me want to laugh even more. Never would I ever have spoken like that to anyone, friend or strangers. I am polite and kind to a fault, which I suppose is how I got into the situation I have with my job. But it still pays my bills and puts food in my mouth.
The other man cracks a smile just as Augustine sighs heavily.
