Be a Good Girl

Author's Note: This is my first story on AFF.net, so be nice, please. :( One shot sort of thing I did in an afternoon. Reviews, good or bad, are always welcome. If you'd like to contact me, for whatever reason, send me an e-mail at Raikimi@sbcglobal.net, or AIM me at CrimsonTwilight8. Feedback is muchly appreciated. >_<

P.s. Yes, Calithia does actually exist in game. Magister guy, not so much.


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"Have you finished all of your duties, girl?"
 
His voice was harsh, and almost insulting, even as I stood there, behind him, hands clasped in front of me. I hated this part of the day, standing in his quarters and reporting my duties for his inspection. He was so intimidating, too intimidating, this man. My superior. He always made me nervous.
 
"Girl?!" He whirled suddenly, his robes swinging in a flourish about his broad form. I stood straighter, shaking just a bit, for fear he might strike me any second.
 
"Y… yes, sir, I did, sir…" I stuttered out, still shaking slightly, though I was sure he noticed by now.
 
He cocked that devastatingly handsome face at me, and gave me cool, emerald eyes. Even as cruel as he was to me, I still couldn't deny how beautiful he was, how perfectly forged every part of him was. That long, silken raven hair, the elegant jaw line, the firm, muscled body I knew had to lay under those heavy, crimson robes, and those eyes… those hauntingly emerald eyes…
 
He caught me staring and I blushed brightly, casting my own jade colored orbs downward, studying the weave on the expensive carpet. He laughed suddenly, and the sound was not a friendly one. It sounded as if it held a promise of something much darker than laughter should have held, and I shivered, dreading what he might be thinking. I didn't want to know, really.
 
I was still trying to study the carpet when I felt, rather than saw, him move toward me. I heard the rustle of his heavy robes a moment before his warmth was suddenly at my back. I stiffened a bit, and exhaled a breath, trying very hard not to take several very large steps away from him.
 
"Keep it under control, just play the passive, timid little woman you always do, he'll leave you alone."  I thought to myself, trying to convince myself if I just acted indifferent, he'd loose his interest and would send me away like he always does.
 
Ah, but that was wishful thinking.
 
I jumped slightly as I felt him touch me. He took a lock of my thick, white-blonde hair and tugged at it just enough for me to lean back. I don't think he was so much pulling my hair, as raising it to his nose, to sniff it. I thought the gesture odd, but I was in no position to protest. He was my master, and I was merely a servant; of Silvermoon, of him.
 
He made a sound low in his throat, and bent his much taller frame over mine, nestling his head in the crook of my neck. I shuddered at the touch, and a small sound left me. No one had ever touched me like that, but I didn't like that he was doing it.
 
"Mm, tell me, Calithia… How long have you served Silvermoon?" He all but purred the question into the soft flesh of my neck, and I drew back just a fraction of an inch. I did, however, answer the question, as businesslike as I could muster, with all of that hard warmth at my back.
 
"I… I've been the record keeper of Silvermoon for… as long as I can remember, sir." I answered softly, for I couldn't manage anything much louder than a whisper.
 
"Ah, you've been so faithful to your duties, Calithia, but it is not the city that insures that you have a bed to sleep in, and food in your stomach every day. It's me…" He said, his voice gruff and deep as he spoke into my flesh.
 
"S… sir?" I said, not entirely sure what he meant by that.
 
"I'm the one who keeps you employed, dear girl. Do you not think I could do your job, if I wanted? I choose not to, because I'm a man of importance, a magister, and I've better things to do than organize scrolls and books all day. If I wanted, you'd be out of a job, and begging for coin in Murder Row…" He said that last a bit more firmly, and his hand was suddenly in my hair again, fingers buried in my tresses as he grabbed and yanked roughly, exposing the line of my throat.
 
I whimpered softly at the uncomfortable angle, and the almost painful grip he had on my hair. In my sudden surprise, my hands had flailed out, and then backward, and had found only the cloth of his robes to grip and hold on to. He chuckled softly, that same sinister tone as before, although now it reverberated into my ear.
 
"I think it's time you be faithful to me, girl. I keep you employed, I let you have your job… You should be thanking me for being so gracious…" His free hand found my hip, and I jumped again, squirming uncomfortably in his grasp as his hand traveled upward, to cup my breast, and squeeze roughly. I could feel the heat of his hand through the thin cloth of my dress, and the sensation made me whimper softly at him.
 
I didn't think it would work, but I tried a simple verbal. "Th… thank you, Sir..", in hopes of distracting him from whatever he sought to do with me. It failed however, but he spoke the next bit while roughly massaging my breast.
 
"No, no, girl, a simple thank you won’t suffice. No, you need to get down on your knees and thank me properly…" He whirled me around suddenly, releasing my hair in one swift motion and moving his hands instead to wrap around me. He grinned down from his much taller height at me, and even as I knew what was coming, I still couldn't shake the thought of how attractive he looked from my head.
 
His hands came to my shoulders, and he pushed me down onto my knees, before then undoing the sash of his robe. My cheeks had flushed a bright red long ago, but as he continued, I felt them grow hotter. I tried to look away, but he made a sound and drew my attention back to his swiftly working hands.
My face had already been hovering a minute distance from his groin, but once he'd undone the sash, and pulled back the layers of cloth to bring himself out, his flesh hovered a breath's length away from my mouth. His hand once again came to ball itself at the back of my head, in my hair, and he pushed my head forward. I resisted, placing my hands on his hips, refusing the close that last bit of distance and touch him. He tightened his grip sharply, jerked my head upward to look at him. I cried out, and looked up at him, wetness welling in my eyes with the sting of his hand pulling my hair.
 
"Do not resist me, Calithia… There's nothing you can do to keep me from getting what I want." He sneered at me for a moment, and I whimpered submissively at him, before he turned my head back toward his outstretched self. "Now…" He began, "Thank me properly…"
 
I had never done anything like this before, and was unsure how to even begin. I'd never even seen anything so thick, so long, so wide… Thoughts crossed my mind, and I made a soft sound, involuntarily, though it seemed to excite him. He twitched at me, and his hand pushed my head forward.
 
I opened my mouth, and he eased the head of himself inside, before pausing and then pushing forth with the rest of his length. The sensation was new, and though I fought it at first, the moment that velvety flesh hit my tongue, I became interested in this new activity. I ran my tongue eagerly around the head of him, licked at it, suckled lightly, before continuing on to pay attention to the rest of the hard flesh that was within my hot, wet mouth. He groaned softly, and the sound excited me enough that I felt lower things begin to react. I breathed out through my nose, and coaxed more of his thickness inside, running my tongue along and around and over the steeled flesh.
 
I was ashamed at liking it this much. He was, after all, making me do this against my will, or at least he was. But… but he just felt so good, nestled in the back of my throat as I worked my tongue and mouth around him. He was so soft and hard at the same time, it was such an intriguing idea, and he made sounds, such lovely sounds, that I didn't think I'd ever hear from a man. At least, from something that I'd done.
 
"Mmm, that's a good girl, suck me…" He cooed at me, his voice thick and lazy somehow. I took a moment to glance up at him, and was met with a very… Mm.. man-ish look. I wasn't sure how to describe it, but there was nothing but sex in that look, nothing but raw, almost primal need. The look drew yet another sound from me, and my face grew hot as I turned my attentions back to the hard, thick thing in my mouth.
 
A free hand found what wouldn't fit in my mouth, and I massaged at it lightly, not wanting to deny any of him my attention. He even tasted good, like something salty and solid, and completely male. I sucked firmly at him, and felt him twitch, heard him groan a bit louder. His sounds and reactions stirred my own body further, and while I tried to stop myself, I couldn't help it.
 
His hips began to move then, and the hand in my hair pulled my head backward, as he brought his thick length from my mouth. I thought for a moment that it was over, but he shoved himself back inside my mouth, and began an almost forceful, but crisp rhythm. He pulled himself from me, and then eased himself back it. I sucked firmly as he left, as if I wanted him to stay in my mouth, but greeted his re-entry with an eager tongue. This pace continued for several long moments, and he seemed to be enjoying it thoroughly, groaning softly each time his head hit the back of my throat.
 
Lower things eventually began to ache, and it wasn't my knees. I whimpered softly, balling my hands in the thick cloth of his parted robe, and I wasn't quite sure why. I wanted him to… to do something to me, anything. I wanted him to touch me, and ravish me… I wanted him inside me, all that thick hardness. But I wanted more than that too.
 
His rhythm faltered at my whimper, and he looked down at me with half lidded eyes, panting softly. He looked at me for a long moment, his outstretched self caught halfway out of my mouth. He huffed once, before suddenly removing himself and hoisting me to my feet by my hair.
 
I cried out for him, my hands going to tug at his wrist, though I was not nearly strong enough to do anything about it. The motion, however, did thrust my chest forward, pressing my breasts against his chest.
 
His hand came forward, and as he caressed me gently, my thrashing stopped. I shuddered in his grasp as his nimble fingers found my pert nipple, and he pinched and twisted it through the thin blue cloth of my dress. The action elicited another whimper from me, and he grinned, easing the grip on my hair.
 
"You may think you want to deny me, but your body tells a much different story, my dear…" He said, letting go completely of my hair, his hands moving instead to roughly undo the strings in the back of my dress that held it on. I protested, as much as I could, trying to get him to stop from undressing me, but as soon as the strings were undone, he pulled the article of clothing down off my shoulders, until it fell to the floor.
 
I was nude then, in the half circle of my arms, because I wore nothing underneath. The dress had been sewn in such a way, that there had been no need for a bra, or any other sort of support, and the Sin'dorei rarely wore underwear, anyway. I turned my face away, hid it behind a curtain of thick, blonde waves, and tried to hide the rest of me with my hands. I didn't want anyone, especially him, to see me nude. Having him in my mouth was one thing; I wasn't prepared for this.
 
He came toward me quickly, enveloped me in his arms, and pressed my body against his, though the gesture was far from romantic. He ground his hips against the front of me, and let me know just how much I had affected him. I cried out, half from pain, and half from surprise. He was so incredibly hot, hotter than I’d thought he was when he was in my mouth. That hard, blazing hot thickness ground against my lower stomach, and I thought for a moment what it would have been like to have that shoved inside me. I had no more time to pursue the thought however, because he buried his face in the crook of my neck again, except this time he was facing me. His tongue edged out past his lips and licked at my skin, causing me to involuntarily arch against him, pressing his hardened self further into my flesh. I panted softly, wrapping my arms around his back, because I could think of nothing else to do.
 
One of his free hands came up, and encircled my neck, squeezing just lightly enough to remind me who was in charge. He used that grip to tilt my head to once side, to get more room for his mouth to assault my flesh. He nipped, and sucked, and licked, and I moaned, and whimpered and writhed against him.
 
He bit down suddenly, and I cried out, digging my nails into the flesh of his shoulder blades. His hissed softly, and bit just a little harder. He was hurting me, but it still felt good, and I wanted more, although I don't believe I would have admitted it to myself just then.
 
I was lost in a haze of pleasure and pain, and hadn't even realized he was moving me, until I was slammed face down onto his desk. It was more like a large, elaborately carved table, that held most, if not all of his works, and books, and various other arcane items. It nevertheless did not cushion my fall, but I managed to stop myself with my hands, before my head hit the wood.
 
His muscled, warm body was pressed against mine then, his form in a line against me. He was heavy enough, and pressing hard enough, that I could barely move, trapped under him, with my breasts crushed again the hard surface of the wooden table.
 
I arched and shuddered as his mouth found my spine. His hair had fallen forward, though I couldn't see it. The silken strands caressed my bare skin on either side of me as his tongue licked along the middle of my back, leaving a hot trail in its wake. I moaned softly, raising my hips just slightly, so that my now-wet lower self pressed against his hot, steel hard length.
 
I wanted it so bad. I liked that he was using me, I liked that I was merely an object for his pleasure. I wanted him inside me, I wanted him to shove all that hard, hot length inside. I wanted him to hurt me, to call me names, to treat me like an object. I almost needed it, I ached so badly.
 
He licked upward along my spine, to my shoulder blade, and then farther up, kissing at my shoulder, and then my neck again, the entire length of his body stretched against mine. I would have thought the action romantic, or tender, but he bit me again, and all those sorts of thoughts fluttered out of my mouth in a scream.
 
He grunted against my neck, and I felt him grin a moment before he eased up off of me and grabbed my hips jerking them backward suddenly. I was left gasping, bent over the table, as I felt him position himself behind me.

I started to say, "no", or "stop", but I didn't get very far, because my breath caught in my throat at the feel of his swollen head at the entrance of my body. His fingers dug into the flesh of my hips, as if bidding me to speak, and I bit my lip, trying not to make yet another sound for him.
 
"When I ask you to do something, you'll do it." He said firmly, digging his nails in this time hard enough that I let out a loud moan of pain, and knew I was bleeding. Strangely though, the sensation caused me to spread my legs just a bit wider, shifting backward on the table to press him more firmly against my opening.
 
"That's a good girl…" He said, loosening his grip on my hips. I whimpered softly at him, and spoke before I even knew my lips were moving.
 
"Hurt me…" My voice was so soft, I wasn't sure any could even hear me, but myself.
 
"What was that?" He asked, leaning over my body again, which pressed the head of him just inside me.
 
I moaned loudly, and answered him. "Hurt me again! Hurt me while you fuck me!" I'd lost it. The sensation of him against me, the bites, the aching need… I didn't care anymore; I just wanted it.
 
He laughed, leaning up again. "My, my… such a whore for pain… I never would have pegged you the type, Calithia…" I shuddered when he said my name, and looked back at him, my expression needy and eager.
 
He suddenly rammed his hips forward, and I screamed, my vision blurring for half a second. He had invaded me so suddenly, my body hadn't had enough time to adjust, and he hurt, he was so big. But he touched every part of me, and I cried out again, my lower self convulsing around his almost-too-large length.
 
"Dear gods, you're a tight one…" He grunted, his voice sounding strained. He adjusted his hips slightly, moving inside me and I cried out again, arching my back.
 
"You… you're stretching me… I'm… not sure I can…" I panted softly, looking back at him. He seemed to take offense at my look this time, for whatever reason, and lashed out with a hand, striking me just enough so that I turned back around. My cheek stung, but it still felt good, and I wasn't exactly sure why.
 
I shouldn't have been enjoying this, but I was. I was craving more, every second his enormous self laid nestled inside my tightness. It ached, and I liked it.
 
He shifted once more, and I whimpered loudly. "You're… you're hitting that spot… right there… Aaah…!" I breathed, speaking once again before I was sure what I was saying. "Hit me again, make me hurt… oh gods, yes…!"
 
His hand struck my ass this time, violently, and I moaned, relishing the sting of it. Oooh, so good, the sting… It felt so good.
 
He eased out of me a bit, with effort, because I was so tight he could barely move in either direction. He then eased back inward, his head running over that especially sensitive spot inside me that I hadn't known existed until moments ago. He continued this movement, this slow, strained push and pull, until I was finally stretched enough that he could move with relative ease. As soon as he realized this, he picked up his pace rather quickly, and began slamming his hips against my ass, a loud slapping noise ringing in my ears every time.
 
"That's right, moan for me, whore… You know you love it…" He spoke, fingers digging into my hips again.
 
I did, I moaned for him, and loved every moment. He filled me up so nicely, in ways I’d never thought possible, and the sting of his fingers on my flesh, the sting on my cheek, and my ass only added to the pleasure. Every stroke brought him so deep inside me, stretched me in so many ways, that I was almost overwhelmed with the myriad of new sensations.
 
My head was suddenly jerked back by his hand in my hair yet again, his voice hissing in my ear. "You like it when I hurt you, when I fuck you, don't you ava'rik?"
 
"Ava'rik" was one of the most derogatory names anyone could call another person, in Thelassian. It meant 'slave', but it meant much more than that. It had more meaning, it meant lower things than simply 'slave'.
 
The fact that he'd used the word at all drew a soft sound from my lips, and sped my heart.
 
"Yes, yes…" I babbled, "I love being your play thing, use me, my Master, use me! Fuck me, make me your possession…!"
 
He obliged, thrusting his hips harder against me, slamming himself into my tightness so hard, and so fast, I thought I might break. His hand remained in my hair, tightened in the mess of platinum-honey locks, as my body shook with the impact of his thrusts. He grunted loudly, and pushed his rhythm further, my thighs aching from repeatedly hitting the edge of the desk.
 
Warmth welled somewhere low within me, and I tried to find words to warn him, but the only sounds that came out were high, piteous moans in the form of his proper title. He seemed to get off on this, and thrusted even faster, so much so that my cheeks and part of my leg started to hurt with the motion.
 
I almost bid him to stop, but he suddenly erupted in a loud, long moan and I felt something scorchingly hot pour into my depths. He muttered something over and over again, and still he kept thrusting, and still I kept calling his name. My own warmth finally welled enough that it spilled outward, and around, through my body, and I shuddered violently around him, my hands shooting outward suddenly to grab at something, anything. Several objects fell off the desk and I heard paper, but I didn't care enough to identify whatever it was. I simply gripped the other side of the table, and screamed as I tightened around him.
 
His hand left my hair, and a moment later I felt nails on my back, racking downward until they met the curve of my ass, and pulled me as hard as he was able to against his body, burying himself deep, so deep, within me, that my scream grew louder just before it faded into a shaking moan, and then loud, heavy pants.
 
I was trembling softly, and finally felt the first edge of pain at the scratches on my back and hips. I moved to support myself on my elbows and winced, hissing softly at the sting. How deeply had he scratched me? Just how much damage had he really done?
 
His thrusting had stopped moments ago, but he still lay buried within my core, breathing as heavily, if not more so, than I was. I didn't dare look back at him, for fear he may strike my other cheek, which stung now too, and it was a little uncomfortable.
 
He said something low in his throat, something I didn't quite catch, and pulled out of me, eliciting a soft moan as all the solidness left my body. I mourned it a bit, but didn't argue, staying where I was for the moment.
 
I heard the rustling of cloth, and turned cautiously to find him putting his robe back on. I watched him, laying half on my side, and half leaned over the table, because I couldn't stand yet, not after that; at least, not so soon.
 
As he fastened the sash of his garment, he looked at me, and I winced, expecting him to hurt me again. I closed my eyes and looked away.
 
What I was met with, was a surprisingly gentle caress of the cheek. He'd moved to me again, and as I opened surprised eyes to look at him, he'd pinned me to the desk, on my back this time. His face hovered over mine, his hair caressing the cheek that his hand wasn't on.
 
It hurt to lay on my back, but his soft hand caressing my cheek eased it somehow. I thought, once again, the gesture too gentle for him, but he lowered his mouth to my ear, and whispered.
 
"Never forget what I've done to you, this night. I want to always see that fear in your face, that you had just now. You are nothing, if I so will it. You are mine, and you will forever be mine, Calithia. You are an object, and you answer only to me." His voice held a hint of rage, and that too, I wasn't sure the reason behind. I merely nodded, frightened at the edge of danger in his voice.
 
He waited a moment longer, before getting off of me, and heading toward the door. He paused with his hand on the knob and grinned, motioning at the spilt papers, the fallen books, the off center desk; the general disarray of his quarters. I hadn't realized we'd made such a mess. I sure hope he wasn't going to ask me to…
 
"Be a good girl, and clean up your mess." He grinned, and exited, leaving me alone and sore, in his messy office.