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"My First," the Tsaritsa says, tapping his art piece, "why is this on your desk?"
"I thought it looked pretty," he says, suddenly unsure of the whole affair. She sounds somewhat accusatory, as if she knows something he doesn't. "I received it in an unmarked box some months ago and it seemed to be a good candidate for a conversation piece." Though, no one has been the first to bring it up, and most seem uncomfortable with more than a passing mention of its lovely combination of colors or the elegance of the miniature spire.
She watches him for a minute or two, curious and unhesitant. He squirms under her ice-blue gaze, pinned like a dissected insect. Heat rises in his face, and he tells himself it's to counteract her chill. "You do not know what it is?"
"It's… an abstract piece?" Pierro guesses. "The crystalline angles and the shape…" He gestures vaguely at it. His Lady's eyebrow climbs up her forehead.
"My First," she says, slowly, almost predatory, "you have teased Me long enough."
"My Lady?" he asks faintly, pressing himself back against his chair. It is times like now that he remembers that Archons are never strictly human, and not all are ascended little sprites like that flighty Anemo god, Barbatos. Many of them, like the dragon Morax, Prime of the Adepti even before his ascension, are hunters.
"This is no mere art piece, Pierro." She picks it up, weighing it in her hand. Her nails curve, sharp and clawlike, around its form, but when he blinks, the claws are gone. "Come with Me. I will show you what it is."
"Yes, my Lady." He follows her out of his office, deeper into the coldest parts of the palace. His Lady resides here most of the time, and he counts himself incredibly lucky to follow her to her most… private… chambers.
He's going to die here. At least he'll die satisfied to have served his Lady, his Queen, his Tsaritsa, as long as he was able. At least he'll die by her hand. No man has entered her chambers before, to his knowledge. Being the first of anything is a dangerous endeavor.
"Pierro. Come in." She beckons, and he looks around the room to realize that she has led him into her bedchamber. Her. Her bedchamber. He hurriedly slips out of his shoes. "Go on, My First. Make yourself comfortable," she instructs, waving him towards her bed. He crawls onto it, kneeling awkwardly on the coverlet with his hands folded in his lap. "Comfortable, Pierro," she says, sharper. He shuffles around a bit, unsure what she wants from him, and she sighs and comes over to sit on the bed and cup his face. The chill of her hand almost burns. "Pierro, My First… relax. It will be alright. I will make sure you will not be hurt."
He tenses up under her hand. He hadn't considered that anything might hurt. "My Lady… what are you going to do?"
"My sweet First. Whatever shall l do with you?" She chuckles and retreats into her closet.
"My Lady?" he says. He's still lost but he trusts her to lead him to clarity. …She still has his piece. "My Lady, what are you going to do with—"
She emerges from her closet, and reduces him to gaping wordlessness.
His beautiful Lady, his Queen, his Tsaritsa, is almost entirely nude. Dark blue lace cups her perfect breasts, thin, transparent fabric falls over her torso, and a black harness holds his piece in place at the front of her hips as if it were. As if. As. As if.
"My First," she purrs, gracefully striding forward, "My darling, My precious, beloved, loyal pet."
His throat is so dry it clicks when he swallows.
"You've more than earned this, haven't you? Waited so long just for this, you handsome tease. I'll give you exactly what you've yearned for," she promises. "Oh, My sweet, patient boy. How long have you waited for Me?"
He opens his mouth to answer, but no more than a dry croak emerges. She laughs and joins him on the bed, straddling his thighs and draping her arms around his neck. His piece—the… dildo—presses into his own crotch and starts to stir some response from him. "My Lady," he breathes helplessly.
"Undress for Me, My pretty pet," she orders softly, chill lips against the shell of his ear. He shudders and gasps, and she hums, pleased. "Do you like obeying My command, even here?"
He nods, not trusting his voice to make a sound.
"Undress for Me," she repeats, and pulls away to sit on the bed and watch as he fumblingly pulls off his layers of shirts and his pants. She gestures for him to continue, so he strips off his socks and his underwear as well. She leans forward and takes his mask off his face, and kisses the newly-exposed side of his forehead. Her lips burn, the same way her hand did. "Beautiful," she whispers against his skin. "My handsome boy." He shivers, only half from the cold.
"You understand now, how you teased Me? How you all but dangled yourself before Me, tempting Me with your shy yet brazen desire? Unvoiceable, yet silently displayed for all to see. All saw, My darling pet. All wondered and whispered about the state of your desires, and the whispers made their way to Me." She runs her icy hands down his sides, and he shudders hard, head falling forward with a gasp. "Oh, My sweet boy. Is the cold too much? Let Me help you."
He flinches from the sudden freezing cold as she takes firm hold of his chin and kisses him deeply on the mouth. Somehow, the cold grows fainter as she hums into his mouth. Is it lessening, or does he grow warmer? Perhaps he's simply going numb. Whatever it is, his Lady is protecting him, so he goes limp against her and stumblingly tries to kiss her back. She laughs against his mouth and pulls away, placing one last kiss on the corner of his lips.
"My precious pet," she whispers, running her hand down his chest, nails scratching idly through the hair spread over his torso. "Have you touched yourself, thinking of me? Have you brought yourself to climax with my name on your lips? Or have you kept yourself from uttering such blasphemies as you try to think of anything else at all?"
He shakes his head as he trips over his own tongue. "I—my Lady, I don't—I haven't in a long time." He hasn't had the time or felt the need to touch himself in decades. His sole aim is his Lady's will and the pleasure it brings him to serve her is enough.
She pulls back and regards him with surprise. "I will teach you to please yourself."
"My Lady, I know how—"
"Demonstrate, then. Show Me you know," she instructs.
He looks around for something to smooth his way. He's not about to go back to his desperate teenage ways of spitting in his hand to slick his cock. It was never enough anyway, but back then he liked the roughness. He’s older now. Prefers a smoother stroke, now. His Lady offers him a vial and he uncorks it to catch a strong sweetflower and mint scent. In his haste, his hands shake, and he spills a great deal more oil over his fingers than he needs. His Lady clucks her tongue and collects the drips on her own hand, and Pierro's face burns.
"Go on, My pretty pet," she soothes. "Show Me how you please yourself, how I can please you."
Pierro can't decide where to look. He can't bear to look at his Lady as she watches him intently for his reactions. He can't watch his own hand as he strokes himself, slowly, shakily. He opts to close his eyes and focus on the feeling of his hand around his own cock.
"Don't hold back your sounds, My sweet boy," his Lady says softly. Pierro gasps. He hadn't realized he was all but holding his breath. He shifts his thighs further apart and plants his free hand on the bed, leaning forward now. His Lady's hands roam his torso, caressing his shuddering ribcage and running long, sharp nails over his skin. She pulls his head down to rest on her shoulder and scratches gently over his scalp. "My sweet, darling pet, how beautiful you are for Me," she whispers. "Tell Me what you have not dared to dream before now. Tell Me how best to bring you to your utmost pleasure."
"Fulfill your promise to me," Pierro says, half-audible. "Show me what it is."
"Oh, My pet, My handsome boy, are you certain of what you ask? It is not a small thing, and you are inexperienced. I also promised you I would not allow you to be hurt."
He lifts his head from her shoulder and looks her in the eye for a second. He ducks his head immediately after, of course—he's not worthy to meet her gaze for longer—but he responds, "My Lady, I am as certain as I was when I swore my fealty to you."
"Oh, My pet, you haven't the faintest idea what you do to Me, do you? Your spite and anger drew My attention, and your loyalty and tenacity has held it. You are My most precious one. Lie back. I will ready you." She praises him so easily, as if her feelings run so deep as to be all but fact.
He obeys, but he takes his time. Part of him is curious what she'd do if he outright disobeyed her.
"My pet, do not make Me think you do not want this," she warns. He moves a bit faster, because as confused as he's been this whole time, he does want this. He wants her. "Precious, sweet boy, wanting only to do as I command. It's a wonder I haven't brought you here sooner." Finally, he gets situated, lying on her bed on his back, unsure what to do with his hands. His Lady presses chill kisses to his knuckles and drops his hands to his chest, patting them gently in a silent order to keep still. She slicks her fingers with the oil and reaches down between his legs, behind his cock. He jerks on reflex as her cold fingers circle his ass, but takes a deep breath and makes himself relax. He's not completely unprepared, he knows how this goes, but he's never had it like this before. How fitting and right that his Lady, his Queen, should be the only one who ever knows him like this, pliant under her touch and gasping softly at each soft movement. She kisses him again, deep and slow, and he regains enough of his brain to kiss back. "So noisy," she whispers into his mouth. "Sweet boy. How long have you wanted Me?"
"Forever," he moans breathlessly. "My Lady, my beautiful untouchable precious Lady—" His words cut off on what's almost a wail as her questing fingers catch on a particular spot inside him. He covers his mouth almost immediately, the back of his neck burning with embarrassment. He hadn’t even known the alchemical procedures were so thorough. If anyone were to hear him, crying out for his Lady—
"No, My handsome pet, please, let Me hear you," his Lady says softly. "Pierro, My beloved, there is no shame in pleasure. I want to hear how good I am making you feel."
"Yes, my Lady," he whispers. Her fingers hit that spot again and he gasps.
"Sweet boy," she praises him, low and soft, as her fingers continue to work their way inside him. "Obedient, beautiful, good boy. My most precious pet, Pierro, My handsome boy, oh, what you do to Me." Pierro whimpers under the combined assault on his prostate and ears. He's never doubted her love, but he never thought she would love him like this. He reaches out to her, and she takes his hand in her free one. "My most beloved pet," she whispers soothingly. "Lie still. I will take care of you."
"You keep—" He swallows. "You keep calling me… pet. I—"
"I can stop it if you dislike it," she says immediately.
"No! No, my Lady, it's—it feels good, I like it, it's just… should a beloved pet not have…" He takes a shuddering breath. It was a fleeting thought that he hadn't at first meant to voice, but he's here now. "Should a pet not have… a collar?" he finishes weakly. His Lady's intake of breath draws his eye. She looks ethereally desirous, almost hungry at the idea.
"Does My pretty, obedient pet want a collar?" she asks. "I will see to it that any of your desires are fulfilled. This should be only the first request you make of Me."
"Well there's—I mean there's no need to interrupt what we're doing now, but…" The thought of bearing the most intimate sign of her ownership sends a thrill through him that makes his cock twitch. She owns him already, body and heart and mind and soul, but to wear a collar as if he were no better than her dog, his life's purpose already to serve her but now with another dimension—he's close to the edge already only from thinking of it. "Please," he begs. "Please, I want you to mark me as yours."
Her eyes darken. "Pierro, you are Mine. You always have been Mine."
"I know, I know, my Lady, I just—I want more," he whimpers. "I want to be the only one who's yours like this, please."
"Oh, My beloved, handsome pet, you are already the only one,” she breathes. “No other has shared My bed since long before I pulled you from your misery and gave to you a home. Even then, she was an impulsive decision, a lover of one night, and before her there was none. You are Mine and Mine alone, the only one I own this way, and I will keep you in whatever state you please.” She smiles down at him. “Are you ready, My beloved?"
He nods. He's ready for whatever she'll give him.
She moves, leaning over him, elbow braced next to his head as her other hand guides her dick to his ass. "Is this position good or would you rather take Me another way?"
"This is good," he says faintly. The tip slides inside him, up to the twin knobs on the sides. It's—it feels surprisingly good. His Lady, fucking him, using his body. She's not even doing it for her own pleasure, unless she enjoys pleasing him more than he estimated. A slow roll of her hips pushes the knobs inside, and he moans.
"Good boy," she purrs. "You take Me so well, beautiful." She rolls her hips again, and slow inch by slow inch, the toy sinks into him. He sobs as it grinds against his prostate. "Tell Me if it hurts, pet," she orders. He nods. It's just blinding waves of pleasure right now. He might come just from feeling her cock fill him like this, he thinks dizzily. "Look, My precious beloved," she says softly, proudly. "You're so close to taking it all, aren't you? Such a hungry hole, begging to be filled. I can feel you sucking Me in. I'll keep you full, My handsome boy, no need to fret." He whimpers at her words. "So good and obedient for Me," she assures him lovingly.
He wants more. Her slow pace is, of course, appropriate for his inexperience, but oh he wants it faster, he wants her to use him. "Faster, please, my Lady, don't hesitate," he begs. "Use me, use me, please, my Lady, I'm yours!"
"A gracious Queen provides," she says, smiling over him still, and snaps her hips forward, burying the toy in his guts, before pulling out almost all the way.
He almost sobs at the emptiness, but he doesn't have time before her cock fills him right back up. This is everything he wanted. To be used, as if his body were his Lady's toy, existing solely for her and her alone. He cries out every time she seats herself inside him, hips meeting his ass, and sucks in a gasping breath when she withdraws.
"So good," she breathes. "Pierro, have you any idea how beautiful you look to Me right now?"
He whimpers as the only response he can muster. Her pace is almost brutal, steady and even and harsh but it's everything he needs. He clutches at her back, finding purchase in the straps of her bra, needing to pull her closer. He loves her, he always has, he always will, he just never knew how to show her beyond his devotion. He would serve her till the end of time, and only if she ordered him to leave her would he ever disobey her. She lowers herself to his chest, adjusting her pace and angle, and laces her fingers in his hair. With her weight fully on his chest, his noises become more breathy, but he cannot stop.
"How handsome you are to Me," she whispers. "My darling, how badly do you want to come?"
"Please," he breathes, barely audible. "My Lady, please fuck me." He will come on her cock or not at all. He doesn’t think he’d even need to touch his cock if she just—
"How could I deny My darling boy anything?" she says, smiling. She sits up and takes hold of his hips, adjusting the angle of both her own and his to accurately strike exactly the right places within him every time. His wails and cries must be audible to anyone within three rooms, but he can't bring himself to care anymore. "You look perfect like this, split open on My cock," she purrs happily. "Isn't this what you always wanted from Me, putting this very cock on your desk in plain view? Clever, handsome tease. So perfect for Me, taking Me so well. Oh, Pierro."
"Please—I need—talk more please," he gasps. He’s hovering on the edge and her words, her praise, is only pulling him closer to toppling over it.
His Lady obliges. "You like it when I praise you? Of course, My most precious one. I could spend hours with you like this, fucking you till all you knew was pleasure at My hands. You look so perfect. If you would allow Me, I would take you bound, I would take you from behind, I would take you in your very own office—anything. Anywhere." She loops one arm behind his back and pulls him upright to drop him onto her cock as she hisses in his ear, "Anything to remind you that you are Mine, Pierro."
He wails, thin and almost a sob, as he comes. Immediately, he wishes he hadn't. He's soiled her beautiful lingerie with his cum, and—eugh—there's so much of it.
"No matter, My beloved," his Lady soothes him, stroking his hair and down his back. "I wonder how much more you have to give Me. How long did you say it had been?"
"Too long, my Lady," he says weakly. He rolls his hips on her cock, shuddering, as even a bit more leaks from his tip. It still feels so good, though he knows it’s short-lived and the line into too much will be crossed soon.
"Let us remedy that, then," she says, and deposits him on the bed, remaining rooted deep inside him. "I will collect a few things and you may choose what we will use."
"Yes, my Lady." He's—he will obey her as he always does, always will, but he's worn thin already. He really just wants to be held, right now.
"Pierro? Are you alright, beloved?"
"I'm—I'm fine," he lies, ineffectively.
"Come now, My precious pet. Tell Me what's bothering you." She cups his cheek and tips his face to look at her. "Are you done for now? Is that it?"
He bites his lip and blinks back overwhelmed tears. Finally, he nods and leans into her hand. She pulls out, gentle and slow.
"Oh, My sweet, obedient boy. Always tell Me when you start to feel as if it's too much. I hadn't thought. I should have realized that going so long without would lower the bar at which you would become overstimulated, and lessen the chance you would enjoy it. Could you forgive Me for being so thoughtless?" She kisses his forehead.
"Of course I forgive you," he whispers. "Could you just… hold me, or something?"
"Would a bath be acceptable beforehand?" She holds his hands in both of hers, watching him worriedly, heedless of the ruined state of her clothing. He nods wordlessly. "Oh, My precious, sweet boy. I will make certain you know how very much you are beloved." She releases his hands only to undo her bra and toss it carelessly to the side, and does the same with the harness at her hips. Then she lifts him—startling him with its suddenness and its suddenness alone, he insists in his mind—and carries him, princess-style, towards a different door than the one he'd walked in from. "Would you like it to be warm, My sweet boy?"
He nods. Then, finding his words, croaks, "Yes, please, my Lady."
"I do adore you, My most precious pet," she says, still concerned. "Please don't ever think otherwise."
"I could never, my Lady. If it weren't my first time in centuries, I'm sure I would've been desperate for more, myself," he assures her. "I might be convinced to taint the bath after a bit."
"Naughty pet," she laughs. "I'll have to choose just the right collar for you, won't I? What would you like? Leather? Lace? Which color do you like best? We’ll find you just the right one, don’t worry, My darling.” She opens the door, a bit awkwardly, and steps into a spacious bathroom.
Pierro flushes, warmth rising in his chest. She really does love him like that, doesn’t she?
“Would you like to play the part of My pet in truth, or is the imagining enough for you?” she asks. “What do you mean, my Lady?” he asks, slightly confused.
“I have heard of play where a pet is to wear… accessories, indicating their status and species,” she explains. “Ears, most commonly, and often tails.” She sets him on the rug beside the bath and kneels, keeping him close, to start running the water.
“Oh. Oh, no thank you, my Lady. That might be… I would not enjoy that. I am not a mere beast.” His chest squeezes, guilt flaring, knowing that somehow he is one of the very, very few of his countrymen who remained human. Little as he cares for the destruction of his country of origin, to play at being a beast would be a mockery of the very real plight of the innocent Khaenri’ahns twisted into the most ubiquitous monsters of Teyvat.
“Ah. To be owned by Me as a man is enough for you, then?” Her tone is light, teasing, as she tests the temperature of the water with one hand.
“Yes. Yes, my Lady, I would want nothing more than to belong to you in the most complete manner possible. Part of it is… the choice of devotion a man has, versus the mindless trained attention of a dog. I want to be yours, to sign away my life and my freedom to you. A dog can only know subservience, and does not know how to want anything else.” He sighs and relaxes more of his weight against her. “Part of it is the plight of my countrymen,” he admits. “They are stuck in the forms of beasts and I fear making a mockery of their curse.” She breathes out a hushed noise of understanding.
“I hear you, My beloved. A collar alone it shall be.” She strokes his hair, nails gentle against his scalp. “Of course it shall have to be a color and a style that only makes you handsomer. I see no reason to make a mockery of this Holy gift of devotion.” She hums thoughtfully. "Blue, I think, or black. You look handsomest in blue. Now, the choice becomes—" She lifts him again and steps into the tub, barely pausing in her thoughts made verbal. "The choice becomes the style, with color determined. Thin or thick material, broad or narrow width, simple or decorated… we have many options, My pet." The water sloshes around them, warm, just as Pierro had requested.
"I want to feel it around my neck," Pierro says quietly. "To be aware of it, even the smallest bit, even when I'm not moving."
"Heavy material, then, or well-decorated," his Lady surmises. "Leather and metal, perhaps.”
Pierro nods. He will leave the details up to her, of course. He leans back against her, and she kisses his hair.
“My sweet boy,” she hums. Her hands roam over his skin, pleasantly cool against his ribs as she thumbs over his nipple. He squirms. It’s not unpleasant, but it isn’t the same tingling pleasure as touch elsewhere provides. “No?” she wonders, and moves on. “Here, then.” Her hand wraps around his cock. He doesn’t dare move, but he doesn’t have to wait long before she’s moving, stroking him with a firm, even grip. “Go ahead, My pet. I want to see you pleasured.” Her other hand slides down to dig into the flesh of his thigh and guides him to rut into the hand wrapped around his dick. “Good boy,” she purrs, next to his ear. “My precious, sweet, obedient pet.”
He lets out a thin moan, melting against her and rocking his hips into her hand. She pulls his head to rest against her shoulder and he gratefully buries his face in her neck. Neither of them can look the other in the face.
“Beautiful,” she says, quiet and soft. She kneads his thigh in her hand, the other still stroking his cock. “My darling First. I adore you.” He sucks in a breath and turns his face further into her neck. “Are you close, My pet?” She moves her hand, then, from his dick to his hole, seeking his prostate again.
All he can do is whimper at the stimulation. "Yes, my Lady, please—"
She adds a second finger. It slides in easily, his hole still loose from their earlier activities.
"How badly do you wish to come again?" she asks, teasingly. "Would you like to come from my hands and my words alone this time, My First? As I have said, every request you make of Me shall be fulfilled."
“Yes—yes, my Lady, please,” he gasps as she sinks a third finger into him and spreads them, glancing off his prostate. The water sloshes as she shifts, releasing his thigh to tease his cock at the same time as she’s spreading him back open.
“No need to beg, My darling,” she chuckles. “I will give you what you want.”
She does, rather quickly. His second orgasm shudders through him, leaving him gasping and limp in her arms.
"My handsome pet," she purrs into his hair. "Let Me wash you, the water is growing cold." He cannot resist her, and submits easily to her gentle ministrations with a washcloth.
She lifts him out of the tub, as easily as she lifted him from the bed, and he is too warm and sated this time to be surprised even in his mind at her strength.
"Let us dry off, My First. Then, shall we retire? You must be exhausted."
He nods. He is exhausted. It's taken a great deal out of him, reaching his first orgasms in many, many years.
"Perhaps we can design your collar together in the morning," his Lady suggests as she stands him up and dries him off. "I think I know of a shop that will supply us well in future."
A shop? Revealing the new nature of their relationship—ah, well. If his Lady requests it of him, he will go. No matter that he might be laughed at, no matter what the populace thinks of where he kneels in their dynamic, he will always be most fulfilled to obey her. "I look forward to it," he says, half through a yawn. She laughs, giving his long hair one last squeeze with the towel.
"Off to bed with you, My darling. Don't worry, I'll join you shortly."
"Yes, my Lady." He doesn't dare bow lest he fall over—he is entirely boneless and quite sleepy—but he nods before turning and meandering bedward.
"Oh, Pierro?"
He turns back. "Yes, my Lady?"
"Congratulations on your promotion, My beloved. This palace has not yet known a Prince-Consort, but henceforth, it will." She smiles, highly amused. "Imagine the ruckus! Those who are brave enough may ask the question of heirs, since I have now taken My Consort and you and I are of the usual sexes to produce them… How shall we tell them that you cannot bear them?" Her beautiful laughter is powerful enough to lift the corner of his lip, though his initial reaction was to sigh skyward as if there was any help for him there. He is certainly more awake now.
"I would do anything my Lady asked me to," he says, half smiling. "I believe I could even find solutions to impossible problems." He's not sure about this particular impossible problem, all things considered, but… for her? Nothing is completely overruled.
"Oh, Pierro, beloved, I jest. I jest! There is no need for heirs," she says, smiling, as she joins him and guides him to the bed with a hand on his back. "I would not ask you to endure the carrying, truly. I have heard that it is a whole-body, bone-deep unpleasantness and I wish My love for you to be nothing but pleasant."
He smiles as she presses a cold kiss to his forehead. "I believe you, my Lady."
She pauses. "The talk of it, though. The imagining. Oh, imagining it." She glances at him for his reaction. "May I speak of pretending it? Or is it like playing My pet in more than the collared sense?"
Pierro chuckles. "I am willing to test it."
"Delightful. If your infernal schedule of meetings and papers allows it, I shall stuff you with My heirs tomorrow morning."
"My Lady!"
"Too quick?"