Pairing: Giles/Jenny, mentions of Giles/Ethan
Word count: 1900
Summary: Giles is well-pleased by his first experience with Jenny, even if it was a surprise.
Notes: Strong D/s and kink warning in effect. Sequel to "Les Bijoux", which means Blackmail!verse.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I claim no ownership and am making no money.
Giles pushed himself up to a sitting position. Jenny arranged a pillow behind his head. He leaned back and winced. He was coming down slowly from the rush of climax, and he was finally aware that his whole body hurt. Or so it felt. He knew it wasn't truly so. Jenny stroked a hand over his forehead and ran her fingers through sweat-soaked hair. Giles turned his head and kissed her palm.
"Thank you," he said.
Jenny laughed. "Mmm. You're welcome."
She got out of bed and slipped into a robe. Dark red, silk, something like a kimono. Giles watched her belt it tight, hiding herself away. He sighed. He liked looking at her.
"Just stay right there, sweetie. I'll make us some tea."
Tea what was not what he wanted at that hour, but Giles declined to tell her so. He was in no mood to contradict her in any manner. Quite the opposite. If he'd had any energy at all, he would have used it to kneel before her, indulge her whims, and pray he pleased her. But he had no strength left, and she'd told him to stay where he was, so Giles let his head fall back on the pillow. She hadn't done anything he'd expected, but he'd arrived where he wanted to be anyway. How had she done this to him? She hadn't struck him, had bound his wrists together but restrained him no further. He was sore and exhausted and satisfied in a way he hadn't been in years.
He waited for her return, floating on waves of afterglow, both pain and pleasure still with him. Her bedroom was warm and the scent of the candles was sweet. They glowed. Giles remembered another night, long ago, a grimy flat in a dangerous neighborhood, the sweet sticky smell of herb, and Ethan's face through the flame of the candle he held over Giles's chest. Sober, intent, deliberate, then breaking into savage joy when wax spilled and Giles writhed.
Giles lifted a trembling hand and let it rest in the center of his chest, where that first pain still lived in memory, alongside tonight's new sensations. Another first experience for him. Several firsts, in fact. Most importantly, his first time with Jenny as his acknowledged mistress. And what a mistress she was! She'd been so intent on him, so careful, so marvelously cruel. Once she'd reassured herself that he was indeed serious, that he indeed wanted it, she'd granted him what he begged for. And he was satisfied.
She returned to him now with a laden tray. A teapot, two mugs, a bowl steaming with hot water, and a face towel. She pushed him back further on the pillows and washed his face clean of sweat, tears, and her own sex. She'd allowed him to taste her at the very beginning of the evening. She hadn't allowed him to take it to completion, though. Giles couldn't remember her taking pleasure later, either. There'd been long stretches of the evening when he'd been unaware of anything but his own body.
He was aware of her now, though, of her hands on him, gentle, soothing, her dark hair falling over her face and tickling against his skin. Hot water on his chest and belly, washing him clean. As the pain had washed him clean earlier. Giles liked the metaphor. She'd purified him. He gazed up at her gratefully, and she smiled down on him. Dark eyes, dark hair, her earrings dangling. She'd worn her jewelry every time they'd gone to bed together, since she'd learned he liked it. He loved the ring in her navel. So exotic. Like her.
Jenny set towel and bowl aside on the nightstand. She busied herself with teapot and mugs. She handed him one, steaming and heavy. His hands had finally stopped shaking, but he wrapped both around it anyway. He sipped carefully. Herbal tea, not black tea, with a tang to it he couldn't identify. Mint and something else. Giles sniffed uncertainly.
"Yucca and devil's claw," Jenny said. "To help you recover."
He drank without further demur. The heat felt good. He drained the mug and felt his strength slowly return. She took it from him and set it back on the tray. Then she pushed him down flat. Giles allowed himself to be arranged as she liked. He was naked, of course, stretched out across her soft bed, her rich blankets. Naked, sore, and bonelessly relaxed. She ran hands over his body possessively. She brushed her fingers across his nipples, and Giles flinched. She laughed and pinched him, gently enough, but he gasped with shock.
Giles swallowed. "Rather."
"I bet. You really hadn't worn nipple clamps before?"
"No, truly I hadn't."
Jenny smiled at him. "And would you again?"
"Yes, of course, if you want--"
But she was shaking her head. "I already know you'll do whatever I want. I need to know what you want, Rupert. Total honesty, remember?"
Giles nodded ruefully. The experience of being questioned by her, of having all his desires spread out under a strong light and sorted through, was far worse for him than anything any of his partners had ever done to him. Though those beastly things tonight had been a shock. Clover clamps, she'd called them, when she'd asked him if he would consent to wear them for her. He'd agreed immediately, unwilling to disappoint her in any way on this first night on his knees to her, and moments later he'd learned his first lesson about clamps. They were nothing like being pinched by his lover's fingers. They were relentless, implacable, intense. And these, she explained, were special. They tightened when the fine chain attached to them was pulled. She'd demonstrated, then clipped the chain taut to the strap around his cock. He'd tormented himself every time he moved, every time he'd writhed under her hands.
He sighed. He had to confess it. "I want them again. Please. That was so--" He didn't have words for what it was. But Jenny nodded, seemingly satisfied.
She stroked his chest against, trailing down his belly. She slid her hand between his legs, to cup him in cruel fingers. Not as cruel as those clamps had been. Giles breathed in, and struggled to open his legs for her, to move toward her and not away. She shifted herself on the bed and leaned down to examine him.
"Ooh, lovely bruising already. You make a great canvas, Rupert."
He bit back a retort to that and instead concentrated on keeping his legs apart and his body still. Pain was different without sexual arousal below it, altering it. Though if she kept this up he might find himself roused again.
"Mmm. This was a surprise too, wasn't it. Did you like it?"
"Like" was the wrong word for the complicated set of reactions he'd had when she'd shown him another set of clamps and he'd realized where she intended to put them. He temporized. "What did you call it?"
"It was, quite. Lord."
Nipples to cock ring; scrotum to his wrists bound tight in the small of his back. He'd had a choice between arching his back to relieve the pain on his balls, or curling forward to ease the pressure on his nipples. He'd made his choice and spent uncounted minutes with back arched, trembling, wondering how long he could hold the position, how long she would want to watch him sweat. How many more of those fiendish plastic clips she had, how much more of his body she would decorate with them. She had infinite patience, he'd learned, and had determined in advance how long he would kneel on the carpet before her. She'd waited far longer than Giles thought he could bear before she'd grasped both sets of chains in her hands and taken all choice away from him with a steady and merciless pull. He'd begged her to release him, then, to give him relief, so she had. And he'd learned the final lesson about clamps. Over and over, as she removed them all slowly, giving him time to feel each one.
It was a kind of patience that Ethan had never shown with him. Giles wondered where else she would show it, what other ways she knew to make him suffer. He suspected he didn't know one tenth of what she did about bondage. All that bravado he'd flashed, when she'd asked him if he'd played these games before, and he'd said yes so confidently-- how foolish it looked now.
"Tell me, Rupert. Did you like the clamps here?" She grasped him again and closed her fingers.
When he could speak again, he stammered out an honest answer. "No! No. Not as much. Or rather... I liked... Oh, God, Jenny, this is difficult."
She didn't say anything, but she lay down next to him on the bed and stroked his face. He assembled the words for what he wanted to say, but he couldn't control his stammer when he spoke them at last.
"Frightening to let you hurt me there. But exciting. Almost unbearably."
"Trust. It's always about trust."
"Yes," he said, softly, and he felt his heart expand in his chest. He would do anything for her, just as she'd said. He did trust her, utterly. God, he was in love with her. He said nothing, though, just watched her. She met his gaze, and he blushed and looked away.
"Mmm," she said, but he didn't know what she meant by it.
She got out of bed and gathered up the tea things. He watched her carry the tray out of the room. She was so assured about everything she did. So bold. He wished she were strong enough to hold him down, strong like a-- He shook his head and cut off that line of thought. Likely Jenny knew ways to bind him that would use his own strength against himself. He'd seen the rings embedded in the posts of her bed, and knew he'd learn their uses soon.
She blew the candles out when she came to bed this time, and slipped the robe off. Giles pushed himself into motion far enough to crawl under the blankets next to her. He was once again aware of that rose and honey scent she wore. He laid his head on her shoulder and wrapped an arm around her waist. Skin on skin. Warm, safe, but-- Giles shifted. He turned restlessly against her.
"Jenny?" Tentatively, stammering again.
"Oh, Rupert, go to sleep."
"Forgive me, but-- Did I please you? Tonight?"
"Oh, Rupert, yes, you pleased me. So brave. So trusting. Even when you didn't have the faintest idea what you were in for."
Anyone else would have said that was folly, but she'd liked it. He'd pleased her. Giles slid up in bed and took her face in his hands and kissed her. She allowed him, kissed him back. He felt himself stir again, imagined himself making love to her, there in the dark. Imagined her saying sweet things to him. His heart ached in his chest again. He was completely gone; he was sure of himself now. The words of a deeper confession were almost on his lips but he held off. Fear. Too much, too fast, maybe she didn't return the feeling, maybe she was still testing him out.
She broke it off with a final caress. "Rest now, sweetie."
Giles obeyed and settled himself comfortably against her side. He let his face crease into a silly grin, burrowed there against her shoulder where she couldn't see it.