Courtesan | By : Lasski Category: G through L > Labyrinth Views: 15074 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Labyrinth, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Chapter 11 - Stained Afterglow
Tears still tracking down from her eyes from the blinding pleasure, Sarah barely felt it when Jareth untied her from the bed. Her muddled mind didn’t understand what he was doing as he gathering her up in his lap and held her, rocking her gently and whispering soothing nothings in her ear. Then she realized she was crying, great chocking sobs that tore at her throat painfully. He tightened his hold on her, and for a brief moment she wanted nothing else. Then, suddenly, his body on hers was overwhelming, the heat he radiated and his arms tight around her back and shoulders were like a cocoon of impenetrable comfort that she couldn’t stand. It was all so overwhelming and suffocating, and she was naked while he was clothed; she felt… vulnerable. He held her as if she might shatter and sprinkle away if touched by the outside world. And she hated it. A hot flare of anger stoked through Sarah like a burning whip slicing up through her stomach. How dare he! How dare he! She struggled wildly against him. "You bastard!" Sarah yelled and lunged at Jareth, clawing at him, hitting him. “I hate you!" He didn’t dodge her but grabbed her hands and rolled them until she was underneath him, trying to pin her still with his body. Sarah gave a screech not unlike an enraged cat and swiftly brought her knee up to his groin. Just in time he shifted, and trapped her thighs between his legs so she couldn’t move. “Damn it, Sarah,” Jareth gritted out. “Stop it.” But she couldn’t stop it. She kicked, hit, bit and screamed. Struggling wildly, almost mindlessly, until she didn’t know what she was fighting against. She didn’t dare stop struggling until she was weak from it, and Jareth barely needed any strength to hold her down. As her strength drained, so too did her emotional barrier until she was sobbing like a child. “I hate you, I hate you” she kept murmuring over and over again as if those words were the only thing keeping her sane. Jareth cursed as a few of her hits landed but just grabbed her tighter until she broke down. He could feel the buildup of tension in her and the moment that she broke. Just like her climax. And a part of him was horribly shocked that he hungered for this breaking just as much as the pleasurable one. “Sarah. Sarah!” He gave her a little shake. “Listen to me. Calm down. Calm down this instant.” “Don’t talk to me like one of your goblins!” she sobbed. “You don’t understand! I’m a courtesan! Not a whore!” “Of course you’re not a whore,” Jareth replied automatically and instantly wondered at the level of truth of his words. She struggled against him again, and he crushed the small wrists in his hands to the point of pain to warn her to stop. “You bastard!” she accused him. “You made me feel like a whore!” Jareth didn’t understand. Yes he had ordered her, commanded her. Yet he hadn’t paid for her or abused her or even sought his own pleasure – yet. “Sarah, I don’t understand..?” “That’s what I’ve been saying,” she twisted a wrist free and thumped him before he caught her again. “You don’t understand. How dare you touch me and treat me like I’m different from everyone else. What sort of fae power do you have that makes me respond? What gives you the right to make me feel special when every man in court has fucked me? What fucking right do you have! I’m not special! I’m not different! I fuck men for money, and I hate you for showing me that’s all it is.” Sarah couldn’t believe the rage that burned inside her. Rage that stemmed from a shame so deep that she hadn’t known it was there, and her only outlet was the Goblin King who had revealed it to her. Never once before had she questioned her decision to become a courtesan but now she wondered if things might have been different. Perhaps she might have found love, like she had innocently fantasized about when she was young, if she had chosen a different path. Perhaps then she might have experienced such tender, unselfish passion from a man who wasn’t Jareth, and not have the experience to compare it to every man afterwards who would rut in her body as a courtesan. Perhaps she had sold herself out. Perhaps she had made the wrong decision. Perhaps she had been lying to herself all this time. “I didn’t set out to make you feel like this” he said and ran his hand over her hair in an attempt to sooth her. Those words, at least, were honest. “Do you know the first time I started to sleep with other men besides Zekial,” she asked and Jareth tensed around her. He may not want to hear but she needed to tell him. Maybe to finally show him what she really was. A whore. A pretender. An imposter. “Sarah...” he said, though whether in protest, or admonishment or something else she didn’t know. “Zekial never held anything back from me,” she raced through the words. “So when it was time for me to move on from his training to sleeping with others he told me,” she said. “Tonight you will feel what it is like to have other men,” Zekial murmured as they lay in bed. His fingers were entangled in the intimate hair between her legs and stroked her clit almost absently. Sarah reached down and pushed his hand closer to her until his fingers slipped inside her. “I’m ready. I want to know what other men are like.” She wasn’t lying, she was extraordinarily inquisitive; Zekial had fed that aspect of her personality in all things sexual. Would it feel different from Zekial? Would it be the same? Better? Worse? Zekial smiled. “And have I not been enough for you?” he mock chastised. “It’s not that. I’m just… curious.” “That’s one of the reasons I chose you. Your curiosity will take you far.” “On Earth, there is a saying – ‘curiosity killed the cat.’” “My dear little kitten,” Zekial moved to cover her body with his, “you’ll always land on your feet with me.” “I know,” she gasped as she wrapped her legs around him and took him inside her. Such was her trust in Zekial that when two unknown men came into a prepared bedroom she had no fear or hesitation of them. They spent hours pleasuring her, wringing from her as many orgasms as she could stand before passing out, then waking her and starting again. It was amazing the differences between them, between them and Zekial. The different tempos, different touches, different bodies to cling to, different cocks inside her. They left her there the next day, lying almost unconscious in her own satisfaction. However, after pleasure had died, after lethargy had set in and passed, after staring unfeeling at the wall, she cried. What choice had she made? In the beginning it had all seemed unreal, so fantastical. The lust in her veins had blinded her to everything else. She could never had imagined that the reality could be so different. What had she done? The door opened quietly and she sat up wildly, fearing that it might be Zekial. How could she face him now when she felt she had failed him by being ashamed? But the form that shifted silently into the room wasn’t Zekial. “What are you doing here?” she asked. Carrick came to the bed and slipped in beside her shivering body. He held her close, wrapping her in strong arms that made her heartbeat slow and steady. He let her cry and then sleep and was there when she woke again. “Zekial sent you,” she said now that logic had come back. Carrick nodded. “But I wanted to come as well. To make sure you were ok.” Tears welled up again. “Why am I feeling like this? I knew what was going to happen; I consented to it. What’s wrong?” “Nothing is wrong. It’s natural to feel like this.” “I feel like such a whore, a slut,” she spat the words with disgust at herself and gulped with renewed tears. “Perspective comes from inside.” Carrick stroked her hair. “You’re not a whore, nor a slut. Both are indiscriminate in choosing their partners. Courtesans always have a choice.” “But Zekial chooses-” Carrick shushed her by pressing his lips to hers. “Zekial provides the partners. He vets them first. He advises us. But I promise you, Zekial would never make you sleep with someone you truly could not bare to touch. A courtesan brings passion to the bedroom – if there is no desire there can be no passion. Not even Zekial can force desire, and Zekial has a reputation to protect for providing courtesans that bring the most passion. We bring desire for flesh because of our desire to help Zekial in his endeavors.” “But why do I feel so used?” she whispered. “Because you no longer belong to one man. It is hard, moving from that first lover – the one who first initiated you.” He sighed. “It will become easier with time. Each time will be easier.” It had. And when the time came for her to kill, she took the same advice again. “You’ve shattered my perspective of myself,” Sarah confessed to Jareth and shielded her expression from him, turning her back on him. Jareth had let go while she told her tale and moved off the bed. For some reason, he couldn’t touch her while she spoke. He felt disgusted with himself and angry at Sarah, and he couldn’t say why. That made him even angrier. “Do not put the blame on me Sarah,” he hissed warningly. “You came here of your own free will. You knew what you were getting into. Do not bring your feelings into this.” Why, in all the Underground, had he not just taken his pleasure from her and left it at that? Why did he have to play with her and let that game become something different from what it had first set out to be? From where came the insane need to see Sarah to completion and take satisfaction from that rather than from his own release. Admittedly, when she had cried, for those moments he had seen the child before the courtesan and reacted. He would not make such a mistake again. “Oh, you bastard. That wasn’t-” “Fair?” he mocked harshly. “Are you now going to whine about the fairness of this situation?” “Dear gods, Jareth! Are you still hung up about every menial thing I said when I was fifteen?” They were throwing cheap shots, and they both knew it. Sarah’s head was spinning. The breadth of the emotions she was going through was staggering – from ecstasy, to sorrow and sadness, to fury, to melancholy, to petulant anger. She was so tired but she couldn’t for one moment let Jareth think she was wavering against him. She faced him with an autocratic tilt to her head. “I think it would be best if you left now.” “This is my room Sarah,” the Goblin King pointed out. Sarah flushed and cursed herself internally. “I’ll leave then, and then we’ll stick to our previous arrangement of staying out of each other’s way.” She made to stand up and collect her clothes, her dress in her hands. “Where do you think you’re going?” Jareth asked in an almost bored tone. Had Sarah known better, she might have responded rather than ignore him. As quick as lightning, Jareth shoved Sarah back down on the bed and straddled her. “In fact,” he whispered, “what isn’t fair is that I have yet to come inside you when I’ve so generously given you pleasure.” “Who cares about fairness?” Sarah shot back, wanting him to know she was no longer the fifteen year old girl. “I wanted you, Jareth, I won’t deny that, but I’ve had you now. I didn’t deny myself the pleasure you could give me, just like you said. Whatever idiotic lust I’ve had is now gone, thank you. Whatever you have is no longer my problem.” With a growl, he tore the dress still clutched in her hands from her grip and tossed it across the room. He wrenched her wrists up above her head and only stopped when he realized she wasn’t struggling. He looked down into brown eyes, no longer dark with passion as they had been in that captivating moment. “Has it come down to rape, then?” she arched an eyebrow coolly. His attack on her had not increased her anger at all, rather it had backfired and Sarah fell back on her courtesan training. Cool, calm, composed, and in control. Jareth, as always, regained the upper hand. He had briefly lost control with her before – never again, and he would prove his right over her. His fingers dipped between her legs sliding in the moist crevice there. He brought his hand back before them, glistening with her cream from her earlier releases. He didn’t need to say a word. Sarah turned from him, disgusted with herself. Jareth, having won, slid off her. She reached for her clothes and brushed angrily at the petals on her skin. “White roses, Jareth? What were you thinking?” she winced as her voice cracked. She was scrambling for control, and she feared she had lost it the moment she had stepped into the room. “A woman always reads too much into things,” he flicked his hand scornfully. “One would have thought a courtesan would know better.” His voice was devoid of any emotion, and Sarah recognized a dismissal when she heard one. *** Paul almost kicked down his King’s door when he heard sounds of struggles from the other side, but some sixth sense made him stop and listen before barging in. Good thing too, because what he heard was a very fierce argument between his Majesty and the courtesan Sarah. Helplessly eavesdropping he winced at what they said to each other. From the night that Sarah fell into his room, he knew there was going to be trouble between Jareth and her – but why couldn’t they wait until after the summit?! Too much was at stake for Jareth to be off his game now. They didn’t spend years kidnapping unwanted children just to have things screw up now. Paul rested his head against the corridor wall and wished his headache away. Someone suddenly gripped his shoulder. Paul jumped and spun around, ready to attack his attacker, only to see him back away to a respectful distance. He was undeniably handsome, and Paul felt a twinge of familiarity. “I’ve seen you somewhere before,” he mused. “Today. In the gardens. You were with Lady Sarah and that other woman.” “Carrick,” the man introduced himself and gave a short bow. “Paul Fall.” Carrick raised an eyebrow and Paul sighed. “My parents… had a thing for rhymes” he shrugged in explanation. Carrick smirked. “My original name consists of ten syllables.” Paul winced at the thought of saying it all. “How do you know Sarah?” “We work in the same field.” “A male courtesan?” Carrick gave an affirmative noise and waited for the usual sneer that resulted from knowing such information. “Unusual,” Paul drawled, “uncommon, but not rare.” “No,” Carrick agreed. The fighting inside escalated for a moment, making both men fall silent. Paul put two and two together. “You’re one of Zekial’s courtesans.” “Indeed.” Carrick looked towards the room. “Sarah should not be here.” “Jareth should not be doing this,” replied Paul The door handle suddenly twisted from the other side, and both men jumped back and flattened themselves to the wall beside the door in a momentary effort not to be seen.While AFF and its agents attempt to remove all illegal works from the site as quickly and thoroughly as possible, there is always the possibility that some submissions may be overlooked or dismissed in error. The AFF system includes a rigorous and complex abuse control system in order to prevent improper use of the AFF service, and we hope that its deployment indicates a good-faith effort to eliminate any illegal material on the site in a fair and unbiased manner. This abuse control system is run in accordance with the strict guidelines specified above.
All works displayed here, whether pictorial or literary, are the property of their owners and not Adult-FanFiction.org. Opinions stated in profiles of users may not reflect the opinions or views of Adult-FanFiction.org or any of its owners, agents, or related entities.
Website Domain ©2002-2017 by Apollo. PHP scripting, CSS style sheets, Database layout & Original artwork ©2005-2017 C. Kennington. Restructured Database & Forum skins ©2007-2017 J. Salva. Images, coding, and any other potentially liftable content may not be used without express written permission from their respective creator(s). Thank you for visiting!
Powered by Fiction Portal 2.0
Modifications © Manta2g, DemonGoddess
Site Owner - Apollo