Season Content notes: con noncon*, pain play, sexual contact, trauma reactions, verbal assault, mind control, reference to suicide attempt, coming to terms with kink (badly), avoidance as coping strategy, unintentional emotional harm, NOT a HFN ending
Mattin spent the first few days of the following week running errands and occasionally taking notes on the lady’s meetings. The fourth afternoon, the lady ordered him to accompany her in the glamourhame.
Jaffrey met them there. The stablehand winked at Mattin and bowed to the lady, an eager smile on his face. He opened the door for the lady and followed her and Mattin into the room.
Mattin braced himself as they entered. He was careful to look anywhere but at the cross. The cross Crait had been tied to when Mattin whipped him… The memories crowded his mind, filling him with longing and disgust.
He got control of himself and turned his attention to the lady and Jaffrey. Jaffrey had stripped and knelt before Jahlene, hands clasped behind his back.
Jahlene’s face was transformed. Mattin had seen hints of hunger in her eyes since he first met her. For the first time, that hunger was fully revealed. She devoured Jaffrey with her eyes like he was a tasty treat she wanted to swallow whole.
She crouched down before Jaffrey and put a hand on his cheek. The tenderness of the gesture, combined with the naked hunger in the lady’s face, was disturbing… and arousing. Mattin tried to ignore the tightening in his shaft.
“Mattin needs to learn to serve in the glamourhame,” Jahlene said to Jaffrey, “Do you have any problem with his presence?”
Jaffrey glanced over at Mattin and hesitated for a moment. Mattin allowed himself to hope… but Jaffrey shook his head, “No, Mistress.”
Jahlene turned towards Mattin without looking at him. “Pick up Jaffrey’s clothes, then strap him to the rack.”
Mattin nodded, unable to make his voice work. He picked up the clothes and took his time folding them, then put them on an empty spot on the shelves that held the lady’s… tools. When he turned around, Jaffrey had stretched himself out on the rack.
The rack seemed complicated but was rather simple. Closing the pillory board over Jaffrey’s ankles and bolting it in place took only a moment. The cuffs, connected by a one-inch rope to a sturdy crank, encased the entire forearm. Mattin couldn’t look at Jaffrey as he started strapping the first cuff on.
With his free hand, Jaffrey reached over and grabbed Mattin’s arm. “Try and relax. I want this.”
Jaffrey’s face held an eagerness that nearly matched the lady’s hunger. Mattin shuddered and looked away. Jaffrey chuckled. Flushing, Mattin finished fastening the cuffs.
When he was done, he stepped back, keeping his gaze on the floor. Jahlene checked the cuffs and nodded her approval. Mattin’s stomach roiled, and he fought to remain still. He tried to become furniture but couldn’t.
“Fetch me the maiden’s teeth,” he heard Jahlene say.
It took him a minute to remember what she was referring to. The ‘maiden’s teeth’ was a strap of leather as long and wide as his hand that could be buckled into a narrow cuff. Small metal tacks lined the inside. Mattin had been afraid to ask what it was for. He found the device on a shelf with a collection of other, similarly incomprehensible tools. He bowed as he handed it to the lady, using protocol to avoid looking at her.
She took the maiden’s teeth from him and said, “Now turn the crank, five notches.”
The crank turned easily under Mattin’s hand. Five notches took in all the rope’s slack. When he finished, Jaffrey’s arms were stretched taut above his head.
Jaffrey gasped. Mattin looked down and froze. The lady had strapped the maiden’s teeth around Jaffrey’s cock. It sat loosely on him, and Mattin cringed as he realized why. If Jaffrey started to become hard, his shaft would fill the cuff. The tacks would cut into his flesh.
Mattin’s own shaft hardened at the thought. Horrified, he stepped back, bumping into the wall.
“Turn the crank another two notches,” the lady commanded.
Mattin wiped his sweating palms on his pants and took a firm grip on the handle of the craft. Click. The crank didn’t want to turn. With all the slack gone, he was pulling against Jaffrey’s weight. Stretching his body. Click. Jaffrey gasped, and Mattin froze.
Something touched Mattin’s arm.
He jumped. The lady stood beside him. “Wait by the door. I will call when I need you.”
Mattin bowed and backed away.
Later, he never recalled more than bits and pieces. It was surreal and yet the most intense thing he had ever witnessed. The warm glow of the oil lamps reflected off the room’s dark wood paneling, surrounding the lady and Jaffrey in a golden aura. She tightened the rack again, and Jaffrey’s moans filled the room. She played with his nipples, making his shaft harden. Then he’d gasp and pull against his bonds as the maiden’s teeth began to bite.
From across the room, the torture was invisible. The stretch of the rack as the lady released or tightened the crank must have been excruciating. Yet the only visible change was the movement of the crank handle around its circle. The maiden’s teeth looked like a simple piece of leather. Yet as Mattin watched, the lady reached down to fondle Jaffrey’s sack. His shaft jumped, instantly erect, and he cried out in pain.
Mattin swallowed and tried hard to ignore the tightening in his own groin.
The lady played with Jaffrey. Played him, his body an instrument under her hands. She knew exactly how to draw forth the reaction she desired.
Jaffrey’s skin gleamed as sweat beaded and ran down his sides. Sometimes he would cry out or beg. His cries cut through Mattin. Mattin tried to look away, but it was better to watch. To see. To know. Than to listen helplessly and blindly.
After an eternity, Jahlene stopped. She rested a hand on Jaffrey’s cheek and said, “Enough for today, I think, dear one.”
Mattin breathed a sigh of relief. He was shocked to hear Jaffrey’s hoarse plea, “Please, Mistress… not yet…I can take… more…”
Mattin bit his lip, praying that the lady would hold to her decision.
“I don’t think… Come here, Mattin.”
He tensed as she called him over. When he reached her side, she pointed him to the crank. “Release that, but slowly! One notch at a time and pause between them.”
He obeyed, slowly releasing the strain on the ropes—and Jaffrey’s body. As he worked, Jahlene removed the maiden’s teeth. Mattin couldn’t help watching, a cruel fascination driving him. Tiny scratches covered Jaffrey’s shaft, standing out bright red against his dark skin. The lady took his shaft in her hand, and he cried out. “Shall I stop?”
“No! No, please.”
The lady began stroking him. Blood from the scratches smeared Jaffrey’s shaft. He arched against the rack, eyes squeezed shut, mouth gaping in a silent cry.
Mattin tore his eyes away from the tableau and focused on his task. When the ropes lay loose on the table he began unstrapping the cuffs from Jaffrey’s arms. Mattin was unlatching the board holding Jaffrey’s feet when the other man shuddered and cried out.
Then it was over. Jaffrey lay, still stretched out across the rack, covered with sweat and cum and blood. Mattin released the footboard and stepped back, unsure what to do.
“Did Brit show you the after box?” Jahlene asked.
“Fetch it for me.”
Relieved to have a task, Mattin went to get the wooden box. While he did that, Jahlene helped Jaffrey to bring his arms down and slowly sit up. With the supplies in the box Jahlene cleaned and cared for Jaffrey’s wounds. Mattin, following Brit’s training, cleaned and reset the rack.
Mattin focused on his work so he wouldn’t think. The room was scented with bodily fluids, overwhelming the usual scent of lamp oil and wood polish. When he finished tending to the rack, the maiden’s teeth had to be taken down to the laundress to be cleaned.
When he returned, he found Jahlene sitting in the room’s sole chair. Jaffrey knelt beside her, his head on her lap. Her hand stroked his hair. Tears, glinting in the lamp light, trickled down his cheeks.
“Go take a break, Mattin,” she told him, “or see if Cook could use a hand.”
He fled the room. But not without looking back.
That night, Mattin dreamed he was on the cross as Crait had been, the flogger laying lines of fire across his back. He looked down as a mouth closed on his erect shaft, and Jahlene grinned up at him.
He stood again at the head of the rack, tightening the crank to take up the extra rope. It was not Jaffrey who lay, bound and naked, but his sister, Marta. And Lord Oeloff stood beside him, gloating.