Adult-FanFiction.org : Movies

Shattered	By : TarnishedArmour Category: G through L > Labyrinth Views: 7713 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: Based upon the work of Jim Henson; specifically Labyrinth, copyright 1986 by Jim Henson & associated parties. I do not own or have legal rights to Labyrinth, etc., or make any profit from them. *Individual disclaimers for other works in

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
Jareth appeared in the small garret room kept for barter-guests. He watched Sarah writhe, her hands still teasing her flesh in a vain effort to ease the ache. She found no relief from her own skin.
"Sarah," he said softly. Her eyes flew open and she saw him. She sat up, her hands reaching out for him.
"Jareth-make this stop," she pleaded.
"I cannot," he replied. It was even true. He could mitigate the effects of the River of Longing, but he could not change them or end them. If he tried, it would only be worse when she finally gave into the needs she felt. "Not the way you wish me to."
"Then what can I do?" Desperation clouded her voice. She would do anything.
"Are you willing to do anything to end this?" he asked, examining her with disinterest. She was nearly his. All he had to do was ease her through the oath she needed to take.
"Yes!" she cried, not caring how it sounded. "Anything. Please, Jareth!"
"Then swear to obey me--that you are mine to command," he said. It seemed so simple. She grasped at it.
"I swear it." Her words were quick, unconsidered.
"Repeat it, and use my name," he whispered.
"Jareth, King of the Labyrinth, I am yours to command." As a reward for that much, he touched her cheek. She nuzzled into his hand and felt some of the terror of her own body leave her.
"To take," he gave a wealth of meaning to the word, and Sarah shivered with the thought.
"I am yours to take," she continued, sighing as his hand moved slide fingers down the side of her neck. Her concentration was not very good, but the touch of his hand was.
"To give," Jareth continued, feeling no regret at using her own needs against her to gain her agreement. She was not curious about what she was agreeing to, and that would be to her sorrow--and her joy.
"I am yours to give," she repeated, feeling that she should listen more closely, but not caring.
"To pleasure," again, the word drew images into her mind.
"I am yours to pleasure," she moaned, feeling his hand reach the back of her neck and cradle her head. She leaned back, trusting him with her weight. She didn't know that Jareth studied her, his eyes both hot with desire and cold with calculation. There was only one phrase left.
"And to punish," he whispered. He did not have to wait for her to speak the last phrase of the oath.
"I am yours to punish," She sighed, not thinking that he was serious. By now, she should have remembered that Jareth's words were a trap in themselves, no matter how freely he offered them. In fact, when he offered something freely, she needed to be more wary.
"Repeat it, and use my name," he whispered, nuzzling her ear. She didn't need to, since that little series of submissions bound her to him, but he wanted to hear it all from her. He would brand her has his own, no matter if she tried to back out now. It was rare that he gave in to his desire to take so completely. When the opportunity came, he seized it with both hands. Sarah did not disappoint.
"Jareth, King of the Labyrinth, I am yours to command, yours to take and give, to pleasure and to punish. Please, Jareth…" The last words were whimpered as she slid her hands to his chest.
Jareth did not wait for a more specific invitation. He leaned on one knee on the bed and stopped time outside of the room. Actually, he didn't stop time as much as place them between moments, so that they would have as much as a full day in the time that place between two moments of "real time". Jareth slipped off his gloves and touched her body with one hand. He slid his hand inside her shirt and let his thumb caress between her breasts, right over her heart. A small, black, magical tattoo appeared under his thumb, an image of the amulet he wore. The symbol of his domain and dominion was forever marked in her flesh. Queen or consort or broken body devoid of life, she would be his forever.
Sarah knew none of this. At the touch of flesh on flesh, Sarah arched and grasped for his clothing. She began to tear at the cloth, seeking more skin and finding it. Jareth stripped the shirt from her, and gazed at her as he helped her remove his clothing. She wanted to take his clothing off of him, and he was willing to giver her what she wanted. He would be a generous, careful, caring lover for her, and she would spend her need and lose her inhibitions with him. Following that train of thought while his body slid into position over hers, he realized how very cruel Mab could be.
And his heart rejoiced.
Sarah felt all of Jareth's skin against hers, eagerly parting her legs as he took her mouth in a kiss that left her head spinning. She felt him there, at her entrance, pushing forward. Felt him break the kiss as the need suddenly ebbed. Her eyes grew wide and there was none of the excessive longing that rode her through the day when he pushed slowly into her and filled her. All of the pain, the discomfort, the feeling of being split in two was hers to experience, and the tears welled in her eyes. Her breath was coming in gasps and pants, but not from the need or the pleasure she had felt before. When he reached her hymen, she tried to push him away, murmuring "No...no..." as she tried so hard not to cry. He paused, watched her close her eyes and could almost taste her fear and pain on her sharp breaths.
"Look at me, Sarah," he commanded. She shook her head, eyes closed. He gripped the hair at the base of her skull and yanked, surprising her into opening her eyes. "Do not close your eyes or look away from me again." He waited. Sarah nodded, losing the battle with tears, then with sobs as he slowly pushed forward, turning the breaching of a thin stretch of skin from something quickly over to an agonizingly long process. Sarah could feel every moment of the skin pulling apart, pulling away from skin--from him. She could feel him invading her, taking her so slowly that she knew it was some kind of special hell he wanted her to know. If she could have read his mind, she would have known terror. As it was, his eyes showed her how much pleasure he took in knowing he was the only man she had felt like this--that he was hurting her with what could have been pure delight. And he wanted this from her, as much as he had wanted her willing kisses and participation on the riverbank, he wanted this. Finally--it seemed to take forever--finally, he was fully inside her. She saw his eyes close and heard his sigh of contentment. She didn't look away. Jareth opened his eyes and smiled down at her, seeing her tears and the look of betrayal so sweet in her eyes--almost as sweet as the feel of her body pulsing around him, trying to rid itself of the strange thing that, according to her virgin, well, recently virgin flesh, should not be there.
"Patience," Jareth crooned. He said nothing else, just waited for her to calm down. He had known the water-induced need would fade suddenly when she was about to have her need fulfilled, but it would return shortly after she relaxed. The results of the return would drive her into a mindless frenzy. He just needed to be a little bit patient. Meanwhile, he licked the tears that fell from her eyes and savored them. When she closed her eyes instinctively, he didn't scold her, but crooned soft endearments over her skin, dropping kisses and love-words like flower petals on the summer wind.
Slowly, she began to relax from his tenderness, the immediate fear of him and what would happen now nagging at her while she was slowly adjusting to this strange, uncomfortable feeling. When she realized he was waiting for her to relax, to trust him, the fear started to abate. This was Jareth. This was what she had wanted, needed. Okay, so it wasn't what she had thought it would be, given what she'd shared with him since she'd been in the labyrinth, but the man holding her, kissing her face, inside her, was Jareth. The one man she wanted. The one that mattered. The one she had trusted. The one who had trusted her to take on the entire labyrinth and become his Queen. Okay, so this was a little more like the romance novels Karen liked to read, what with the virgin bride screeching her head off the first time--though Sarah hadn't screeched, she had wanted to--then really liking it. Maybe it would improve. And why was she calling Jareth and sex with Jareth "it"? Maybe it was the fact he was so intimately pressed against her. Maybe it was the fact that she hadn't ever felt anything quite like this--tampons just did not compare, no matter what Elfled's crazy religious-nut mother thought. Maybe it was fear of the unknown that was keeping her tense and keeping this--no, not this, sex--unpleasant. Maybe she needed to remember that this was Jareth and that Jareth was inside her and that Jareth was over her and that Jareth was what she wanted. Who she wanted. Maybe she needed to trust that he wanted her, too. Maybe he even loved her.
It wasn't long after that thought that the fear began to lessen. This was Jareth. Jareth. "Jareth," she whispered, the first coherent sound to leave her lips since he had begun to press into her.
"My love," he murmured back, moving so she could see him again, looking down at her with a mix of possession and love and tenderness and pleasure that took her breath and her fear away.
As the fear left her, the need returned. As soon as she was able to take normal breaths again, it seemed every inhalation brought back the desire. She let out a shuddering breath as the same fever swelled in her. Jareth smiled and began to rock into her. As her body heated with the sensation of Jareth over and inside her, her thoughts disappeared. He began to touch her as he moved, to kiss and bite, whispering instructions and lover's teasing words to her. She listened to him, did as he said, and soon she was matching his movements, meeting his thrusts as want turned into need. Jareth drove her mercilessly through the desire into the sweating, grasping, biting, scratching, screaming ecstasy, waiting and watching as she shattered from the inside and her body locked and pulsed around him.
This particular part of desire's dance may have been new to Sarah, but Jareth was much, much older, and had all of the power and command over his body that he had over his kingdom. Over two thousand mortal years of pleasure and experience stayed with her that night-between-moments, and Sarah was swept away by his unabashed sensuality.
He took his pleasure as well, not so generous as to simply give. Sarah was moaning, exhausted and so overwhelmed with the physical demands that she was near collapse when he finished for the night. They slept in that broken moment, broke their fast, and indulged their senses in the daylight--a circumstance that turned Sarah a bit shy. It wasn't only the morning light that worried her, though. Jareth had absolutely no sense of propriety.
"Jareth," she gasped as he nibbled his way up her neck. "We may be eating breakfast in bed, but that doesn't mean I'm the meal!"
"Of course it does," he had replied. He pulled her in front of him, back to him, then pushed her forward and slid behind her. "Shh. Here, like this." He guided her over him and slowly slid her down onto him, revelling in the feel of her around him again. He had to hold tight to her as he leaned back against the stack of pillows he had added to the room. He watched her in the mirror, again his addition, and saw how uncomfortable she was laying back against him. He could almost hear her complaining that they were supposed to be eating breakfast, not…doing whatever this was called. She was so very new to this, so sweet. So shy. Oh, he was going to enjoy this as long as it lasted. "Just relax." He lifted a peach to her lips. "Eat. I'll make sure you enjoy it."
Sarah didn't say anything, but ate the bite he gave her. He watched as she tried to relax. He fed her another section of the sweet fruit, smiling as she continued to think. Finally, she spoke.
"I…I should be sore," she said, after eating the peach. "Jareth, this should hurt. A lot. I shouldn't be able to move this morning, much less--" she tried to turn around, raising up. From her voice and her movement, she was more than a bit worried. She was truly frightened and unsure.
Jareth held her shoulders and pinned her back to him. "Hush. Eat. Relax."
"I can't. I need to know--" she pulled away from him again. Again, he pulled her back against him and lost some of the patience he had demonstrated throughout the night.
"Dammit, Sarah, I'll explain. Do not make me tie you up and feed you." When she went still at the threat, he chuckled and nuzzled her ear. "Got your attention, did I?" he asked, his voice low and teasing. "Perhaps I'll tie you up anyway." It hadn't been his imagination. She had trembled a bit, tightened around him. "And yes, my dear, you will enjoy it immensely." He leaned back, wrapping his arms around her tense body. He waved the floating tray right to his side, in easy reach. After feeding her an bite of peach and taking a bite of fruit for himself, he explained why she felt so normal. "I made sure you wouldn't hurt this morning." He took a drink of coffee, one of his favourite imports into his realm. "A bit of healing magic, some sleep, and you're ready to go again this morning." Sarah thought about it as Jareth held the coffee cup for her to take a sip. When she had eaten a few more bites and nodded, relaxing against him, she reached for a breakfast roll. "Ah-ah. Wait for me."
She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms under her breasts, covering one of his hands and making him chuckle. It was only when she had rolled her eyes that she had noticed the mirror on the far side of the room. It was a huge mirror, one that she couldn't believe she had missed before. Sarah looked into the mirror he had to have conjured sometime during the night. Jareth was smirking at her over her shoulder as she was sprawled back against him. She could see where his hand lay on her belly, how her crossed arms lifted her breasts higher, his face and free hand as he looked for and reached for the roll she had wanted. She had been kneeling when he pulled her back onto him, so her legs were doubled under her. Staring at them in the mirror, she realized she could see where they were joined, her legs splayed wide apart, resting her weight on his hips and chest, keeping her ankles and knees from being pressed painfully by her weight. As the bite of the roll came to her, she opened her lips, taking the bite as she tried to keep calm. She didn't know if she was upset or fascinated by what she saw. Was that really her?
"Do you like what you see?" Jareth whispered, watching her in the mirror. He saw her eyes close and felt her shiver. She was feeling the effects of the riverwater again. He deliberately exacerbated the situation, sliding her up and down for a few moments, making her want rise again. "The way you fit against me, the way I fit inside you…the feel of my hands on you as you take sustenance from me…You are mine, aren't you, Sarah?" he asked, wanting to hear her say it again.
"Yes," she whispered. "Yours."
"Tell me what you think of this," he coaxed. She was blushing, and that was not acceptable. He wanted her to be as free and comfortable with herself as he was with himself. Unrealistic, perhaps, but desires often are. Jareth was not immune to desire.
"I see…" she started. Then stopped. "Jareth, I can't."
"Of course you can," he encouraged. "Just look and speak. Forget for a moment that it is you. How would you describe the pose of that woman in the mirror?" To give her a moment, he gave her another bite of breakfast. As her lips brushed his fingers, he determined that she would definitely be learning more things to do with her mouth than eat and drink.
"She looks…wanton. His hands are on her," it was true when she said it, "but not…not…anywhere…"
"Say the words, Sarah." He moved his hands to her breasts. "Her breasts." She shivered at the touch, at seeing and feeling the caress, so he named each part of her body as he touched it. When he had touched, caressed, and named every inch of her that was within arms' reach, his rested his hands lightly on her belly. "Tell me," he whispered in her ear, the coaxing words laced with command. Sarah complied, aroused by his touch and the vision before her.
"His hands are on her, but not between her legs or on her breasts. He's…holding her gently. Carefully, while he feeds her bites of fruit and bread…" She continued the description for him, making him smile and kiss her ear, her neck, sliding his hands over her and forcing her to continue the description. She never realized when she stopped saying "he" and "she" and started saying "your" and "my". That she had stopped simply describing what was and had started giving commands on where she wanted his hands slipped by her completely. Through it all, Jareth kept feeding her bites of fruit and bread, sips of coffee, spoonfuls of yogurt or heavy sweet cream. When she had become so distracted by want that she had forgotten about food, he told her to lean forward onto her hands and watch them in the mirror. He rode he carefully from behind until she was groaning and trying to push back against him, demanding more. He left her shaking and shuddering, begging for more when he disengaged from her and leaned back on the stacked pillows again.
"My breakfast, Sarah," he said when she objected. Her eyes grew round with surprise then narrow with anger. "A peach," he said, a wicked grin on his face. "From your lovely little hand." He put his hands behind his head and waited. Sarah did not disappoint.
The peach was in her hand and arcing toward his nose without a single conscious thought on her part.
It landed short, fell on his chest, and the way he spoke to her made her think before she threw the contents of the cream pitcher on him.
"That was unacceptable." There was a thread of menace in the soft-spoken words that made her pay close attention to him. "Pick up the peach in your lips, then feed it to me. You will then lick the juice from my chest."
"And if I don't?" She wanted the words to be defiant, but they came out breathless and almost moaned. That look…it made her squirm with want and a little bit of fear. She did not want to cross Jareth, not really. Not over this, even if she was still on fire.
"You do not want me to answer that," he replied, "for when I do, I will demonstrate."
Sarah hesitated for a long minute, then nodded. When she had done as he directed, she felt the want growing. Because of her use of the fruit as a ballistic missile, she was required to feed him without using her hands. Before he was finished with his breakfast, she was begging and pleading him to take her, then cursing him when he refused in favour of mere food.
When the tray was returned to wherever it was he had conjured it from, he helped her over to stand in front of the mirror. Still, he did not give her what she wanted most. Instead, he taught her all the ways that he could torment her using only his mouth. By the time he finally slid into her, she was a quivering mass of need--need that he had fostered, then denied completion. That afternoon, he taught her to do the same to him, smiling as her efforts were frequently derailed by her own longing.
Days-within-broken-moments passed in the blissful haze of losing inhibitions and the delights of learning and discovering the feasts of the senses. There were some notable exceptions to this smooth introduction to sexual games, but in all, she had been a magnificent student. An overachiever in the best sense of the word.
Again and again they joined, the fire in Sarah's veins only heightened by each successive encounter with him. It hadn't taken long for her need to crest, comparatively, and they began the slow return to the normal ebb and flow of her desire. Finally, the night he left her, she curled into his arms after a rather satisfying encounter and sighed contentedly.
"Mm…" she purred, her voice lazy and relaxed. "How long have we been in bed?"
"About five weeks," he replied, his hands lightly caressing her. He kissed her shoulder. "Why?"
"Five…weeks?" she asked, tipping her head back to stare at him. The words didn't quite register properly. "Don't you have a kingdom to run?"
Jareth chuckled. "We're in broken time-most people say I stop time, but really I just take us between moments. It's only been about…ten minutes for the rest of the Realms."
"Oh," Sarah said, not doubting him. She wanted to think about this, but she had been so very active…and now she was ready to sleep for a very long time. Maybe a week or so. Jareth had been…amazing.
Watching Sarah drift off into a hazy right-after doze, determined to stay until she was deeply asleep, Jareth considered the past five weeks. They had done any number of things together, and Sarah had initiated several after the first river-induced fever and the remnants of shyness had been soothed. They had fed each other bites of dinners he'd summoned, teased each other mercilessly, tasted each other--she did have a wicked tongue, after all--and basked in the inventiveness, hedonism, and sexuality of each other. They enjoyed many of the same proclivities when treading the lighter paths. Sarah had only briefly tasted the darker pleasures, and her initiation into those joys was through an unwise choice of words on her part.
"What are you going to do," she challenged, "tie me up?"
Jareth had grinned evilly and summoned padded restraints to attach to the bed. He had enjoyed watching her eyes grow wide as she struggled against the cuffs and realized she was helpless to stop him. In the end, he had done much more than he had originally threatened, which was to make her his plate for dinner. She had moaned and begged for climax before he took her. After her first orgasm, he had teased her back to want and turned her onto her belly. When she realized his intent, a combined bolt of fear and desire swept through her. This time, fear had won.
"No, Jareth," she'd protested, trying to squirm out of the way. She couldn't, of course, but that didn't prevent her from trying.
"Yes, Sarah," he replied, sliding against her, letting her desire coat him.
"Please, don't…I don't want…this," she whimpered. That wasn't entirely true, because a part of her wanted to know.
"Is that true?" he asked, pressing lightly against her in a place where she had honestly never considered having someone touch, much less a man try to push inside her. "Is it true that you don't want this at all? Don't lie to me, Sarah. I'll know it if you do." He would know because of the spells that he had cast prior to her call to him. He had created an empathic bond for the duration of her need. He could tell that she was as curious as she was scared.
"I…I…" she tried. Another fear held her--the threat of his punishment for a lie. He had simply said he would demonstrate the punishment without describing it. Enough sense and experience with him made her shy away from anything so open to his interpretation. "I'm scared," she whispered finally.
"Why?" he asked. He could sense fear, but he couldn't read her mind.
"Because I…shouldn't want this. I shouldn't like this." She was crying now, he could hear it in her voice, feel the tears spilling from her.
"Want what? Like what?" He refused to play to her delicacy or her desire to avoid certain words unless she was screaming for more.
"Like…being tied up. I shouldn't like it." Misery was working into her heart now, and he moved to soothe away her fear and hurt. She was too scared to mention the other. He released her from the restraints and pulled her to rest her head on his chest. Arms wrapped around her, holding her gently, he began to assuage his own curiosity.
"Wherever did you get that idea?" he asked, mystified. There were some villages in his kingdom that weren't as tolerant of such things, but there were others, like Gainstock, that openly embraced all facets of the nature of the races. There were rules, simply to keep his citizens from doing irreparable harm to one another, but such a reaction to a simple little game? The idea was as foreign to him as automobiles had been at the turn of the human century.
"No one…but…there's," Sarah was lost for words. Jareth had released her, more worried about her losing this irrational shame than he was about the wall or her inhibitions. If she could not bring herself over this with his coaxing, well, he'd seen the results of a woman who had broken before entering the second segment. She had lived only seven years as his consort before she faded.
"There's what, Sarah?" he asked gently.
"There's a lot of…talk about what…good girls don't do." Sarah shook her head, knowing she sounded like an idiot. "I mean, I'm not a slut or a whore."
Jareth hid his smile against her hair. "No one could confuse you with a whore, Sarah. But answer me one thing: What's wrong with a woman who knows what she enjoys and goes to get it, despite what other people think?"
Sarah shook her head, frustrated with her inability to make herself clear. Jareth slid his hands over her body.
"Does this bother you?" he asked, his hands running over her and bringing the fires roaring back with an innocent skin-to-skin touch.
"No," she mumbled into his chest.
"What about when I lick you, suckle your breasts, tongue you to orgasm?" he added, his hands finding more intimate places to tease.
"No," Sarah confessed. "I like all of that." She didn't even squirm at the language he used.
"When I'm inside you so deep that you moan and writhe?" He lowered his voice even more, the sound coming from deep in his chest.
"You know I enjoy that." Her voice was a whisper now, smoky with remnants of body memory.
"The different positions we've used--and I know you remember every...single...one," his voice was teasing and serious at the same time. She felt her shudder at his deliberate evocation of her body-memory.
"O-one or two were uncomfortable, but after a while I forgot about that." Sarah was looking up at him now, her chin propped on his chest. Her eyes were bright with pleasurable thoughts.
"Did you like it when I pinned your wrists to the mattress?" he asked, pulling her down to him and nuzzling her neck.
"Mmmm," she shivered. "That was fun." He had held her hands over her head and done things with his hips that she wasn't convinced were possible for anything other than a snake. She slid to the side and pulled at his shoulders. He knew she wanted him to cover her with his body, to feel surrounded by him. Jareth obliged the unspoken request and turned it to his advantage and her enjoyment.
"What's so different when the restraints are padded manacles? You are still held in place, and I am still doing what I want with your lovely body," he pointed out, nuzzling and laving her breasts. She took a long time in answering, trying to think while he fanned the flames inside her.
"I…don't guess it is different, really," she said, sighing as he slid lower on her abdomen. She tangled her hands into his wild hair, which was more wild now than usual. Well, in bed after several days of doing nothing but indulge in sex, what could she expect? If he was following the trail she'd come to know so well, she was going to enjoy this immensely, and, if what he'd told her was true, so would he.
"And the other? The way I want to take you?" His words were muffled against her skin, but she knew he wanted her to answer. He had yet to let her squeak away from answering a question, even going so far as to deny her orgasm until she told him exactly what she wanted and how and where. The end result was gratifying enough that she had worked through the initial difficulty and repeated the experience with more than satisfactory results. Jareth could definitely follow instructions well, even though he was deliberately obtuse when her directions were vague. In time to come, she would look back on some of those "mistakes" and laugh. For now, everything was still a bit too raw for her to give over to levity.
Sarah felt her blush return in full force. "But that's just…it's…not…right."
Jareth lifted his head and stared at her. "Right?" He was asking for the definition, but Sarah misunderstood him.
"It's…kinda gross," she stammered.
"Gross? It's one hundred forty-four pieces? Or do you mean morally gross…reprehensible?" he asked, now a bit confused by her imprecise use of language.
"Morally…I don't think it matters. It's just…the wrong, um," she searched her mental thesaurus for a synonym, "orifice." When Jareth's shoulders started shaking, Sarah swatted at him. "Either keep going down or get up here, but there's nothing to laugh about!"
"Oh, there is, my dear." He buried his face in her belly and made a loud, rude sound against her skin. Sarah blinked, then burst out laughing. Jareth, never one to play fair, gave her a wicked look before starting to tickle her. She struggled as she laughed, the impromptu tussle not abating the arousal she had been under for the past several days, but making the intensity of the longing seem more enjoyable than demanding. When he wrestled one of her arms out of the way, he put it back in the padded cuff, making her shriek and tug against the restraint as she laughed. The second arm soon joined it, but it took him some serious effort to get her legs still enough to shackle. Once she was tied up again, he spent surprisingly few minutes turning her focus from the teasing loveplay to a more earnest endeavour. She was as eager as he was to continue their sexual encounter. He took his time and his pleasure with her, making her curse him for slowing her down and making her wait time and again when she got close to climax.
After that intense round of teasing and pleasing, she relaxed into the restraints, enjoying the fact she couldn't get away from him as much as she did the way he looked at her like she was a feast spread out just for him. They spent several minutes curled together, her hands out of the restraints to encourage blood to circulate properly, and floating in that dreamy, peaceful state that follows ecstasy.
"Jareth," she whispered, suddenly a bit shy. "Let's try it."
"Try what?" he asked, pleasantly floating after the third game of Sarah-in-cuffs. He was not currently tuned in to her mental processes or capable of sensing anything other than a shy, hesitant eagerness. He was a bit confused.
"What you wanted to try earlier," she hinted. When he showed absolutely no sign of comprehension. "The…um…alternate route," she tried.
Jareth had caught on by the time she finished her second attempt at explanation, but she had to say it, to tell him exactly what she wanted. She was still dancing around what she enjoyed when she wasn't in the throes. He wanted her to admit both her pleasures and her curiosities while she was sober and, if not unaroused, not blinded by need and want.
"I don't know…what to call it," she confessed. She didn't. As much as she had tried before Jareth, as much as she had done with him, there were still huge vistas of the sexual landscape that were shrouded in a fog that would make London's seem anemic.
"Ah," he said, smiling as she, not currently restrained, acted as his pillow. "Then consider the act itself and the anatomy of the body," he continued, smiling and knowing she couldn't see it. "What, exactly is it that you want me to do?"
Sarah was still blushing when she stammered. "I want you to have sex…with me…" she began, then halted.
"How?" he prompted. When she didn't reply, he changed that to, "Where, then? Where do you want me to enter you?"
"I…through…ummm," she hesitated. "Jareth, this is embarrassing!" she groaned.
"Why? Are your desires something that you are ashamed of? They are a part of you, so are you ashamed of your entire being?" His voice was complete reason. "Or are you just ashamed of wanting a particular thing, like you were about being tied up?"
"I like being tied up," she replied, shivering a bit. She lifted her hands to the restraints, closing one wrist in on her own and then saying, "Close the other side for me." Jareth, pleased with her active move to fulfill her own desire, did so, then leaned over her, not quite close enough to kiss.
"Answer the rest of the question, Sarah. Offering yourself up like a virgin sacrifice isn't an answer." The look she gave him in response made him grin wickedly at her. She finally responded verbally.
"No, it's just that I'm not used to saying these things." Sarah felt something between dirty and sexy and stupid for having to explain anything to Jareth. He caught the confused emotions on the bond he had fashioned. He recalled his own youth, many human years before, and how he had danced between excruciating shyness and shocking boldness. His lovers had not always been kind in their remarks regarding his prowess during those years. Since then, he had it on excellent authority that he had improved by such vast measures that it couldn't be quantified. Her gripe was one he knew well.
Jareth chuckled. "Then who was it giving me directions earlier? Lower, higher, left, right-" he was laughing more fully when she tried to swat him and the cuffs prevented it. "Faster, slower, suck my clit…" his recitation was drowned out by her howl of frustrated physical reactions, none of them sexually beneficial to Jareth.
"That's different and you know it!" she snapped, left to glaring daggers at her lover as he propped over her and teased her nipples with light brushes of his lips, never quite managing to do more than tempt.
"Really? You didn't want me to do any of that?" His eyes were wide with mock innocence.
"Jerk. No, it was during, well, sex, when I was…" she let her words trail off, at a loss to explain what the difference was.
"Not capable of worrying what someone else would think of you?" Jareth was being considerably more merciful than he usually was, but then she wasn't just a fling or an old standard, like Mab. "I can tell you now that I enjoy hearing exactly what you want. I am very powerful, but I can't read your mind, my sweet," he nipped the rosy tip of her breast and held the nipple in his mouth, his tongue teasing it as he spoke, "succulent, saucy, Sarah." He sucked hard on her for good measure, happy to hear her whimper and feel her lift to offer him more. Much better responses now, and she was actually capable of thought, too. The mindless wanton was nice, but Jareth could have a mindless wanton any day.
"Telling you what to do turns you on?" Sarah asked, the wondered aloud, "So why am I the one in chains?"
"Because, my dear, not only did you ask, it's good to be the king," he said. "Now, tell me what you want me to do to you."
"I want…" she thought for a long time, working on the exact phrasing as Jareth slid down and played between her shackled legs with his tongue. His distraction was compelling. Finally, she came and thought of the phrase, "Anal sex." She ruined her statement and her buzz by asking, "Is that even a term?"
"Yes," Jareth helped her roll over onto her belly, a move she wasn't exactly expecting. She was still mostly limp from Jareth's tonguelashing. "That is exactly the term you were looking for." He didn't make her ask for more than that, taking this as an intermediate step while he prepared her for what was to come. He explained in detail what he would do, teasing her with his fingers, pulling her onto her knees a bit to demonstrate the way their positions would change as she grew used to him. By the time he began the actual process, she was wriggling in anticipation. It was then he decided to make her ask for any touches or caresses other than the exact, simple process he defined. She did more than ask. She cursed at him when he informed her that she would have to give him instructions for anything other than the long, slow slides in and out of her, so she demanded, gasped out, whimpered, growled, and otherwise gave explicit instructions, since he refused to do more than the most basic slow thrusting.
By the time she had fully experienced what Jareth considered another ordinary sex act, it was late in the afternoon. Jareth was in no hurry to end this particular day of exploration of the girl who had captured his attention two years ago. She was learning about herself and her desires incredibly fast. More, she trusted him and so tried things that she would never have thought of before, not outside of a fantasy that was immediately followed by the special form of guilt reserved for a deliciously wicked daydream. He took his time, used several facets of his considerable experience to strip her of her usual reactions to sex and sexual situations without creating a bawd, and otherwise thoroughly enjoyed her body. He was certain she had enjoyed his as much, if not more. She had remained chained up for several hours at a stretch, including the one blindingly delicious anal sex interlude and several orgasms induced by only using tongues and lips each other. She had given him looks so hot during her turn at pleasing him he would swear he felt his skin burn. Through it all she had climaxed over and over again. In fact, she had fainted before he could release her to sleep that night. The feeling of having her helpless and restrained before him had tempted him too much, he realized, and he had finally reached the limits of what he could manage in one day after several days of almost pure sex just before she collapsed. Thankfully, he retained enough energy to release her from the shackles and curl up with her under the covers.
Ironically, it was that night that had begun the cooling of her longing and the slow death of her inhibited tendencies. Not so ironically, it took another four weeks for her to lose her embarrassment with him completely. She had even gone so far as to sneak the restraints around his wrists and tease him mercilessly before releasing him from the restraints. Had she not been willing, ready, and eager, the end result could well have been called rape. As it was, she had laughed in delight as he pinned her to the mattress with his hands and then screamed for more when he was shoving bruisingly into her.
No, she was no longer the bold-in-theory-while-fully-clothed Sarah that she had been before, but neither was she as uninhibited as she thought herself to be. It was enough to pass the wall. He whispered just that to her before she dropped off to sleep the night before he returned them to the standard time of his realm.
With Sarah in his arms, Jareth relaxed and slept in broken time. Sarah would sleep longer, but the past several weeks in the broken moments had not changed his schedule for the next several weeks in real time. His power helped him recharge more quickly than Sarah, which is how he had managed to send her into a sexually exhausted slumber more than once over the past weeks with her. He would sleep the night through with her, but the "sunrise" would see him back in real time. He had a long day tomorrow, and resting in the broken moments was one of the ways he managed to be available to go anywhere at any time. It was much easier to run a kingdom, he reflected, when one was not required to waste valuable time sleeping.
=-+=-+=-+=-+=-+
- 8
- 9
- 10
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Shattered