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“A fair fight. The foe is floored. A win for the Lady Nonagesimus.”
IN THE MYRIADIC YEAR OF OUR LORD—the ten thousandth year of the King Undying, the kindly Prince of Death!—Gideon Nav packed her sword, her shoes, and her dirty magazines, and she escaped from the House of the Ninth.
Or she tried, at least.
Again.
Escape attempt number eighty-seven had started out pretty great, if Gideon had to say. She had even fulfilled her servant duties and had tidied up her cell before leaving the security cuff together with the stolen key nicely on top of her disgusting pillow. Like, in a cute way. Neat. Because she was nice like that.
Even when she was getting her ass full of that disgusting grey dust that covered the landing site and would cling to her black church robe, Gideon thought that not even the lack of a good filthy rhyme for the escape attempt number had jinxed it. She had gone over the decrepit and rotten-alive Crux. She had overcome Aiglamene.
Face slap and disappointment and all. Aigalmene was disappointed at her. So? Normal Tuesday. Fuck it.
Fuck the muster.
Fuck the Drearburh.
Fuck Crux, in particular. He dared to reject her offering of Frontline Titties of the Fifth. Yeah, fuck that illiterate bastard.
Fuck the Ninth.
And fuck the Ninth House Lady. Fuck her the most.
So, yeah, everything was going pretty well until it went to shit, of course. As always. Until the Reverend Daughter Harrowhark Nonagesimus herself appeared. With her perfectly laid trap.
The commission. Signed! With Harrowhark’s blood! Gross.
She’d get it anyway, whether she won or lost the duel. She’d leave anyway. Just a stupid muster in the middle of it.
A fair fight.
Buulllllllshit.
That bitchy gremlin, of course there was a trick to it.
Those were the words that crossed her mind as saliva pooled in her mouth, unable to swallow under the pressure of Harrow’s heavy boot on her throat. The boot was so heavy Gideon didn’t even know how the petite stick-like Lady was able to lift it, but damn her scrawny frame, she was.
“It’s pathetic, Griddle.”
The words repeated themselves in Gideon’s mind as the boot pressed deeper, forcing her neck into a very uncomfortable position, reaching the point of air restriction. But Harrow was still in her sight.
The picture of indifference. Pure, sheer, cold indifference all over the face of the creep that had spent all night digging bone pieces just to keep Gideon at the Ninth.
So much for not giving a shit.
The necromancer’s piercing eyes were fixed on her face for quite a bit now since Crux had called Harrow’s win, but all she had done since was press her boot deeper, deeper, deeper… Skeleton fingers coming out of the dug-up soil all around her, digging into her skin, hard enough to leave marks, pinning her in place on the ground.
And the boot went deeper and deeper and… this was starting to look way too much like some of Gideon’s wet dreams for her own comfort. She had pictured a hot, big woman pinning her and chocking her, not the damn Reverend Daughter. The redhead pushed those thoughts away because now was not a cool moment to get horny.
She wiggled nervously at the thought, or at least as much as the bony hands allowed her. Harrow’s stare didn’t falter. She looked somehow… focused? Like Gideon’s face was one of those theorems she studied. Harrow leaned a bit over her, just enough for a droplet of blood running down her nose to drop and land over Gideon’s cheek.
“Ew, Nonagesimus, keep your fluids to yourself.” Her words came out strained through her constricted throat and triggered some more dirty images. She felt her cheeks grow hot. Blamed it on the heavy boot on her throat, tho, not that she was getting turned on by Harrow looking at her right in the eyes and choking her in kind of a kinky way.
And then her lugubrious Lady cocked her head to the side, like a goth quirky puppy. And Gideon thought that the air restriction was getting a bit too much and her brain was starting to suffer some significant oxygen loss, because she found it kind of cute.
“Your ears are red, what are you thinking about, Griddle?”
Her eyes widened for half a fraction of a second. Last thing she needed right now was Harrowhark Freaking Nonagesimus to call her on her dirty mind in this situation.
“Might be your boot in my throat keeping my blood in my ears, you know?”
The boot on her neck shifted so the toe pushed her jaw to the side. Fuck, why was that hot?
“Now you will attend the muster.”
“Like shit I will. That wasn’t a fair fight.”
“You used your weapon. I used mine.”
“I’m not coming.”
She couldn’t help the flash of a smirk at the joke in her mind. It was quick, but with the intent Harrow was looking at her it didn’t escape her and caused one of those dark eyebrows to rise in question.
“You will come.” Harrow’s voice sounded strangely commanding. Kinda hot. “And you will on your own free will.”
Gideon snorted. “Sure, my Bone Empress. In your weirdest dreams.”
“You will come.”
She repeated the words. So much conviction in that so dead serious face. Those eyes, as black as her soul, giving off so much intensity Gideon almost chocked on her own pool of saliva. And she knew The Reverend Daughter was uncapable of such an innuendo, but those damn words made her clit twitch. Now she was sure her ears were as red as the blood still running from Harrow’s nose with the images that were running through her mind.
This bony bitch couldn’t have the last word here. Dirty innuendos were Gideon’s thing. “Make me.”
Harrow narrowed her eyes just the slightest before speaking. “Leave us.”
Crux’s eager and immediate protest was cut off by the simple rise of Harrow’s hand and then she heard two pairs of steps walking away.
This was weird. The standard was that Harrow would order some miserable servant to do the dirty work. One of her constructs if she was feeling generous to even bother to put some energy into it.
Not herself. This was new.
More hands sprouted from the ground taking away the little mobility she had left. They grabbed hold of her limbs and torso. Not a single centimetre of movement allowed. “Damn, Harrow, didn’t make you the bone-dage type.” She smirked again at her own joke. “You get it? Bone-dage.”
The boot pressed to a dangerous limit before lifting completely, a coughing fit taking over her at the release of her trachea.
“Do you find this situation arousing, Griddle?” Her face was dead-pan, but her voice was charged.
“Do I find a freak of a bully pinning me down and choking me arousing?” Well, yes. “Fuck no.”
“You have the same redness to your face you have when you read those dirty magazines of yours.”
The hands grabbing her torso got rid of her church robe, leaving her on her tight polymer shirt. And Harrow framed Gideon’s hips with her feet.
Her eyes bounced from Harrow’s feet to her stupid dead-pan face. Kinda sexy from this angle.
What the fuck is going on?
“Huh, so you’re a voyeur as well. Wow, Nonagesimus, quite kinky, my Lady.”
Whatever clever words were coming next, they left Gideon’s brain as soon as Harrow sat on her belly. “You. Are going to come.”
Gideon had to consciously close her mouth. Those words again, shit. Was Harrow doing it on purpose? Was Harrow really this… kinky? Quite a pleasant surprise, not gonna lie, but man, her timing sucked.
“You mean, like… Come come? Like, homo-erotic way of coming?” Her eyes were flying from Harrow’s face to the precise spot where Harrow’s crotch made contact with her abs. She flexed them out of pure instinct and Harrow… wiggled? The tiniest wiggle, but Gideon didn’t miss it.
Damn, they both were fucked up in their heads.
“Could I bribe you with that?”
It took a couple of seconds for Gideon to process, too focused on Harrow’s hips so she would not miss any movement. “Wha-what? With what? Coming?”
Gideon didn’t need to see herself in a mirror to know her face was stupid right now. Harrow didn’t answer. Not with her words, at least. She repositioned herself on Gideon’s belly, making herself comfy, and Gideon could feel now the pressure of Harrow’s pubic bone directly on her abs.
A hand came to rest on her chest, just above her boobs, to steady herself before those bony hips dragged slowly across her abs.
Well, fuck.
Gideon inhaled sharply through her nose. Okay, this was so damn hot, she didn’t give two shits it was Harrow anymore. The bones keeping her hands in place shook when she tried to grab a hold of those teasing hips. Her nose twitched in frustration.
“Come to the muster.”
She needed two complete breaths before she was able to respond a trembling “No.”
She felt the nails first, sinking into her pecs, before Harrow dragged her crotch across her abs again. It was a slow, fluid and constant motion now. And fuck, it was making her crazy. “Careful there, Harrow… might be you the one coming…” She tried to dump all her cockiness into the words, but she knew they sounded weak. Damn, she was starting to feel weak in the legs. And wet. Very wet.
“Is that what you want, Griddle?”
At the words, something snapped in her brain. Was it? Did she want this control freak to come undone on top of her? To be the cause of Harrow’s ruin?
Fuck, yeah.
Could she admit that now, tho? Hell, no. Not if she wanted this to go on. “Fuck you, Nonagesimus…”
“Wouldn’t you love that.”
They held each other’s gaze until Gideon’s dropped once again to Harrow’s hip. To Harrow’s crotch.
Was Harrow getting wet? Because Gideon was very much wet. Very much aroused, to put it in her Lady’s words. So much she thought she could be actually able to come just from the sight and feeling of Harrow dry humping her abs.
Her head fell to the ground with a thud and a whispered “Fuck…” Her whole body was in tension, pressing against the summoned bones restricting her. Was Harrow appreciating the hardness?
The tension at her own crotch was becoming unbearable. This whole pinning thing had dragged for too long for Gideon to keep playing it cool. The boot choking. And now Harrow fucking her abs. If she focused, Gideon was sure she could feel Harrow’s wetness through the fabric of her pants. Or maybe it was just her own sweat, making her shirt cling to her skin. She liked the first option better, tho, she’d go with that one.
Her breathing was getting agitated, shallower. And she knew she was down for whatever Harrow was playing with her. Because she needed to come now. Fuck, she needed Harrow to come, how fucked was that?
Her eyes snapped open at the thought and focused again on the relentless hips. One fleeting movement to Harrow’s eyes. And she got trapped. Harrow’s pupils were blown wide, her eyes the darkest Gideon had ever seen.
Harrow was just as affected as her with her own game and that alone sent a shiver down her spine straight to her clit. Gideon’s hips thrusted upwards strong enough for the bone hands to shake.
“Growing impatient, I see.”
Harrow’s voice was as steady as her hip’s pace. The bone-fucker, how did she manage? Gideon was a trembling mess, on the verge of-
“You can get it, Griddle. Ask for it.”
Begging. Would she? Would it actually get her something or was this another trick of the bone bitch?
“I know the kind of heretic thoughts you have. That you are having right now. You need release.” Gideon nodded with her head, but Harrow pressed on. “Say it. Acknowledge it.”
“I… Fuck, yes, I want to come…” The words came out breathy. She gave up any crack of control left in her body.
“And you picture me in the same state of dishevelment.”
“You’re quite the dirty talker, aren’t you?” At her words, Harrow dragged her nails down her sternum and, oh shit, her pussy clenched around nothing. “Fuck’s sake… Yes… Yes, Harrow, I want you to come… I… I want to touch you…”
It was getting harder to articulate meaningful sentences. For how long was Harrow going now? Wouldn’t have thought she had that much stamina.
“You are going to come, Griddle.”
That dead serious tone of her. Yes, Gideon liked her girls bossy from time to time. She was happy to be submitted if it was going to be like this. The forecast of an orgasm throwing her shame over begging through the window. “Yes, fuck, Harrow, yes please, make me come…”
And just like that.
Harrow stopped.
Dead in her tracks.
So suddenly Gideon was sure her clit got caught in the folds of her pants.
“To the muster, Griddle.”
The fuck?
Her head flew like a spring, suddenly sober, her mind clear, her golden eyes fixed on Harrow’s. “The muster?” She didn’t repeat it. “But what abo-“
Two fingers on her lips prevented her from continuing her complain. “You will come to the Muster.” Gideon started to frown, but her brow eased when those two fingers pulled her bottom lip down. “And I will consider your request according to your behaviour.”
Gideon’s mouth fell open again. A mix of the weight of those fingers resting on her chin and the meaning of the words Harrow just dropped. Took her a few seconds to gather her wits and shut it closed. “I still have the commission.” Yes, she was hot for Harrow, no way she could deny that after she literally begged for her to make her come. But like hell was she giving up on her escape.
“You do.”
“And I’m gonna leave.”
“I can’t stop you, can I?”
“Nope. Not even your bony pussy can, my Penumbral Lady.”
Like she had been pinched, Harrow stood up. So quickly, Gideon thought she would have been dizzy. The bony hands restricting her dissolved and just like that, Gideon was free.
And still horny.
“You will come.” And with that, like nothing had just happened, Harrowhark started walking towards the Drearburh. Gideon followed her with her eyes before casting a longing look to the awaiting shuttle. “Still talking about the muster?”
“Yesss, Griddle, the muster.” A bit of frustration seeped into her voice.
Gideon took that as a win. It was some kind of emotion she drew out of that soulless body.
Ah, but those fingers on her lips… Gideon had seen it in Harrow’s eyes. She wanted it just as much. She ran a hand across her abs, her gaze fixed on the figure walking away from her and into the castle. So confident she would just follow. She could swear there was a wetter spot on her shirt. And that was a freaking win nobody could take from her.
Yeah, Gideon was going to come alright.