Dripping Fingers of Ice felt his heart skipping painfully in his chest as he double-checked his uniform. The polish that he swiped across his boots floated behind him, teasing his senses with warm memories and reminding him that he only had a few moments to present himself to his Wing-Lord's office. He stopped at one of the gilded mirrors that lined one hallway and stood nervously in front of it. His uniform, a deep maroon color that fit with the black of his hair, fit him neatly. He noticed one of his buttons didn't lie flatly and quickly adjusted it. A pair of braided lines hung from his left shoulder, a symbolic bell woven into the very tip of the gold and silver. It was from his graduation ceremony from the House of Bells, only a few seasons before. He caught the color of his eyes, one of the deepest blues his betrothed said she ever saw, before he realized he was quickly running out of time.
Whispering a quick prayer to Daana'd, he spun on his heels and sprinted down the hall. Annoyed cries and swears followed him as he launched himself into the administrator quarters before skidding to a halt before his Wing-Lord's office. His eyes focused on the name above the door.
Tepet Tilis Asarte also known as Dominance of Air.
He paused for a mere second outside the door, then rapped his knuckles loudly. He felt a twisting in his stomach as he tried to come up with a story to explain his fight with Dancing Thief of Fires and the… inappropriate manner he fought her. He flushed at the brief memory, but a sharp voice cut through the metal-strapped door.
“Enter.”
Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and entered. To his surprise, it wasn't the commander inside but a younger woman, with a pleasantly rounded face but a cold, cruel expression plastered on her face. She stood behind a desk, a guardian for a door to her right that obviously lead into the Wing-Lord's inner office.
Her eyes were the color of a wind-swept forest, icy green and startling with the ferocity. With growing distaste, she looked at him from head to toe, practically stripping away his clothes as her look bore into his very soul.
“You are late, Sesus Alon Tasata.”
He flushed at the sound of his formal name.
“My name is Dripping Fingers-”
She interrupted him curtly, “You are Sesus Alon Tasata and you are late.”
“I'm sorry, um…”
She spoke curtly as she came around her. Her uniform accented her narrow waist and her curves. She had three medals on her breast, two for bravery in specific battles and one for duties to the Realm. Underneath, he noticed that her breasts were small. Without knowing why, he snapped his eyes back up to see her eyes locked on his, furious and overwhelming in their intensity.
“If you can be bothered to pay attention, Sesus Tasata, I am Tepet Tilis Redolin, a Scale-Lord in this legion.”
Her glare deepened as she stood in front of him. He hesitated, then realized he was addressing a superior officer. Blushing fiercely, he snapped into attention, holding his hand in salute right above his sternum.
She mirrored her salute, then let it go with a snap. She gestured curtly to the side of the door.
“Wait here, because you were so tardy, the commander is already speaking with another,” her eyes matched the snarl that curled her lip, “who failed her duties last night.”
“What-”
“Silence!”
He stepped back in shock, then resumed his position where she indicated. She fixed him into place with the force of her personality, then picked up a set of papers clipped to a board. She glared at him and came back around the desk to sit down. It creaked softly as she settled into place, then started to fill in a report he recognized as a formal censure, one of the strongest methods of recommending that a Dragon-Blooded be ejected from the legion.
His blood ran cold as he watched her write, unable to read the High Realm script from his angle. The idea of being thrown out frightened him. Years of the House of Bells, the schooling, the drive to excel in the things all Terrestrial were bred for, stood before him. He looked into the future, seeing the destruction of his family's honor, violating the very principle that burned in his blood. He could imagine his father's disapproval and the anger of his warlord of a mother. The very thought haunted him and he let his shoulders slump at the very thought.
Beyond the door, he heard a sharp sound, then another. He jumped at the suddenness of it. His eyes flashed over to the aide but she didn't even respond to the sharp noise. Then, a single sound that frightened him even more than he could imagine. A strangled sob ripped through the door, then deathly silence.
Minutes later, the door opened. He spotted his commander, Asarte, holding the door open and one of the Dragon-Blooded he trained with coming out. She was his age and a Fire aspect. However, there was great sorrow in her eyes and a stoic face as she stepped out. The commander turned to face her, standing in her office door, as the Fire Dragon-Blooded took a few steps. She turned, saluted once, and walked quickly out of the office. For a brief moment as they passed, Dripping Fingers saw tears rolling down her cheeks.
His commander, Asarte, focused her gaze on him. Like her aide, she had bright eyes, but these were almost the color of blue-dusted ice instead of icy green. They sent a shiver down his spine.
“You were late, Tasata.”
He ducked his head, “I'm truly sorry, Wing-Lord Asarte.”
“You should be, your tardiness has put me in a very foul mood.”
He thought about the censure and bowed his head again.
“Again, I am-”
Her voice barked out, “Silence.”
Dripping Fingers froze his lips and concentrated on keeping his body as still as possible. His commander ignored him as she went to her aide.
“Finish the censure paperwork, Tornado.”
“Yes, madam.”
His commander finally looked back up at him.
“There were two of you who screwed up last night. You were just caught with your pants down, she was caught with a drug hangover over at the war manse.”
He felt a trickle of worry dripping down his spine, sending prickles of discomfort along his skin.
Asarte's eyes narrowed, “Unlike you, she failed to stop thieves from stealing the heartstone in her drugged state.”
His lips parted in surprise but his commander continued speaking.
“A recently formed heartstone after the prior… holder was killed in battle. As you can imagine, that is a terrible loss for the legion, the Sesus Alon family, and her own. It is my job to make sure the bulk of that loss weighs,” Asarte's voice grew serious, “on that woman's shoulders, as it belongs.”
He shivered at her tone. She looked him over, her tight bun of her hair shimmering in the light of her office.
“Come, we have a long discussion about your future.”
Dripping Fingers jumped and followed, his boots clicking on the floor as he followed her purposeful stride back into her office. A breeze rose up around him and the door slammed shut behind him. He jumped, spinning around, but her curt voice yanked him back into place.
“Stand there.”
He jumped and looked down to see a symbol for air right in the floor of her office. He fought back a sigh and stood in the center, feeling fear puddling in his stomach and reminding him of how much power she had over his life right now.
Tasata watched as Asarte walked around her desk. His eyes were briefly drawn to the heavy wooden desk. Heavily carved, it had scenes of the air dragon in its surface. At the corners and the feet, he spotted heavy iron rings. Threaded through the rings were a long sash embroidered with the Tepet Tilis symbols, but he could easily see them being used for a more… binding purpose. He drew his eyes back up to her as she stopped moving.
Tepet Asarte's uniform was perfect, beyond perfect. Ironed to an inch of existence, creases that looked like they would cut his throat. The buttoned jacked ran straight up her body, between the two firm breasts that shoved out as proud as the Imperial Mountain. Her legs were strong as were her arms, more than once she sneaked up on him to stab him in the back with the blunt end of the spear, her “stab” would throw him easily a few feet forward from the force of the blow. But, then there were smiles as she helped him up. Now, there were no smiles. This was a meeting of senior to junior, not comrades. He felt his chances with her now were as thin as the steam that rose up from his body the night before, that brief flash of pleasure already fading in his memory.
She picked up and opened a folder on her desk. Flipping through it with one trimmed fingernail, she looked up at him with her cold eyes.
“You have a problem with authority, Tasata.”
He kept his mouth still.
“I see five, no six reports from your time in the House of Bells, and two more reports since you left the House. Most of them were petty, including urinating on a statue of Sesus Alon Badar.”
He couldn't help a smirk crossing his lips. It was a good joke and one of the few he still remembered with joy, but the hard look from her brought him back into attention.
“I don't find it amused. My husband is directly related to Sesus Alon Badar by three generations and it is by his wish and my own skills that I have this position in your,” she paused on the word, “legion, Sesus. It is also why I have the ability to destroy your career in the legion and my husband wouldn't even pause a moment to ratify any censure I insist on.”
He swallowed hard, sweat beading on his forehead. She set down her paper.
“Don't forget this, ever.”
“No, madam.”
She folded her hands in front of her, watching him icily.
“Now, start at the beginning. What happened?”
Memories flashed through his mind, of Dancing Thief of Fires, their fight, the sex. He blushed and ducked his head.
“Sesus, I asked a question.”
He jumped, “I'm sorry, commander. I… I…”
She waited for a moment, “Start at the beginning, when did you report to duty?”
He stumbled at first, answering her questions, but she skillfully pried more and more of the story about of him. He had to struggle to keep parts of his story a secret, knowing that he had sex with Dancing Thief would be the end of his career, no matter how he stated it. Sweat dripped down his forehead as she pushed for specifics, probing and questioning and catching him on tiny little details.
Just as her rapid-fire questions were throwing him off, she stopped. He jerked, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he gasped from the effort. She leaned back, her icy gaze boring into him as she creaked in her chair. Her uniform was simple and plain, but heavily decorated with a dozen or more badges of glory, honor, and pride.
He shivered violently, gasping despite the fact she never even touching them. There was something about her questioning, brutal and rapid, it almost strangled him with its intensity and left him feeling drained utterly.
“Is that everything, Tasata?”
“Y-Yes, madam.”
Her lips pressed tightly together.
“You are lying.”
It was a statement, hard and cruel. He couldn't imagine the impact of her words on him, the pounding of his heart. His life was on the line and there was nothing he could say to save it. He fought with himself for a moment, but she interrupted him with a slow, hard voice.
“There should not have been a pause, Sesus.”
He bowed his head, “I'm sorry, madam.”
“You should be, but not as sorry as you will be.”
He looked up, fear spiking inside him. She shook her head.
“You should have been avoiding the question. I already know you had sex with someone. Why are you trying to protect her?”
When he didn't answer, she stood up smoothly. Whispers of wind rose up around her, fluttering the papers as she came around her desk to stand in front of him. Her face was serious as she regarded him from such a short distance. She spoke in a low voice, almost a whisper.
“When you leave this room, you will no longer be part of this legion, Sesus Alon Tasata. I will have your rank stripped and you thrown out. There are very few things the legion will accept and risking one of the Great Vaults due to your libido is far from acceptable in any house, even for House Cynis.”
He sputtered, trying to make simple words in the face of his dishonor. She looked him over, her glare deepening.
“You are a disgrace, both to the legion, your family, and your school.”
The words that came out of her mouth were pure poison, “I can't imagine how anyone would have graduated, but this legion would be a far better place without you sickening the roots of Sesus Alon.”
He shuddered, fighting back the tears that threatened his eyes. He thought back to the Fire aspect who was dismissed before he came in and he realized that he would quickly follow her. The images of his parents, the anger and rage, swam in the vision of his mind and he took a long shuddering breath.
Her boots clicked loudly as she walked around him, her gaze keeping him in place, shaking his boots. He wanted to turn to face her, but he felt the daggers of her vision cutting into his skin. She circled around him once, then twice.
Then he felt the stirring winds against his ear as she spoke, a whisper.
“You stand on the knife edge of your life, Tasata.”
He clenched his muscles, trying to contain the fear that boiled inside him.
“If you upset me again, your life is over.”
Tasata felt a shuddering gasp leave him, a whimper of relief at her words. But, his commander wasn't done speaking. Her whisper teased the very edge of his ear, close enough to touch him with her lips.
“If you ever disobey an order, your life is over.”
She pulled back and walked around him, her posture textbook perfect as she circled around him, like a vulture or a ghost about to feast.
“If you ever question me, your life is over.”
He shuddered, the threat stabbing him as he prepared himself for the worse. She circled around him one more time, then stopped in front of him, her heels clicking together and her uniform lining up in a perfect harmony.
“Do you understand?”
“Yes, Tepet Tilis Asarte.” He hoped using her full name would show how much he understood. He felt his breath coming in long shuddering gasps, just as the time he crawled out from the frozen river as a child, a brush with death that got too close. She looked him over, her face never cracking into any hint of compassion he remembered.
She then spoke in a softer voice.
“Do you really?”
He nodded, more sure than anything else in the world.
“Yes, madam.”
“A single missed order.”
“Yes, madam.”
She circled around him again, speaking up as she passed behind him.
“A single time you upset me.”
He repeated himself, “Yes, madam.”
She circled again. He felt her presence behind him, her breast brushing against his arm as she leaned over to his ear.
“I don't believe you.”
He held still, waiting for her to drop her shoe. Her lips caressed his lips as she worked out an order, then spoke in a single curt whisper.
“Strip.”
The breath froze in his lungs as he jumped. Shaking more violently than ever, he turned to look at the hard, unyielding eyes. There was no compassion, no mercy for him, just the knife's edge of his life.
“Madam?”
She spoke no words, she gave no more commands. Instead, she slowly looked behind him, to the door leading out of her office. His body felt on fire as he turned back to face her desk. Everything felt horribly wrong, but he had no more choice.
His fingers began to unbutton his uniform. He wanted to cry, scream, and lash out at the same time, so he focused his fingers on undoing one button at a time, pulling open the top enough to shrug out of it. He looked around for some place to put it, but nothing stood in range of his assigned position in the center of the air symbol. She stepped back, offering no help but keeping her ice-blue eyes locked on him. He hesitated, then folded it as neatly as possible before setting it on the ground. The cool breezes in her office began to flutter more, rippling through the papers as he worked at his boots.
Tasata felt foolish and weak as he tried to remove his boots while standing, he did but ungracefully, removing one and the other. When he looked up, her gaze never flinched away. She leaned against the edge of her desk, the triumphant smile back on her calculating lips. One of the rings clinked softly as it tapped against the side of the desk.
He shoved both his pants and underwear down at the same time, stepping out of his pants and carefully putting his bare feet back on the cool symbol on the ground. He remained crouched as he folded his pants, setting them on top of his clothes and next to his boots. His eyes peeked up to find her still watching and, without being told, he stood up.
Dripping Fingers never felt as naked as he did right then, the hard gaze of his commander seeing everything he had to offer. The look of disapproving cruelty never left her face as she pointedly looked at him from head to toe, lingering on his cock which jumped up in embarrassment. He prayed it would soften under her wilting gaze, but it grew stronger with the realization of the very power she had over him. She had his life in her hands. He cursed himself silently as he straightened his back and thought of fields and snow and old men, willing his body to stop responding to the burning gaze.
She pushed herself away from the desk and stood in front of him. Her eyes bore into his flesh as she looked at him from head to toes and back to his head. The gaze lingered briefly on his cock, much to his embarrassment. He had to fight the urge to cover himself.
The faint smile on her lips remained as she walked around him.
“You look like a fine example of a proper Dragon-Blooded, Sesus.”
Her hand reached down and lifted his penis with two of her fingers.
“A fine example.”
“T-Thank you, madam.”
She slid her fingers down his length, sending a strange erotic trill through his senses before letting it drop. It almost touched his leg, but a pulse of his heartbeat sent it bobbing back up, slowly growing to full mast as she watched. She let out a tiny chuckle and looked up at him.
“Stroke it.”
He froze, staring at her in shock, but the first hints of amusement faded instantly, leaving the dead-panned and very serious face looking back. Cursing himself inwardly, he reached down with one hand and slid his fingers along the upper edge of his length.
He was uncircumcised and his girth was just thick enough he had trouble touching his fingers around his base. But, this time, he just used two fingers to slide up and down, moving the wrap of skin around his head with slow movements as he watched her. His inner muscles twitched with anticipation as his length grew even harder.
She paced around him, then spoke curtly.
“Harder.”
He pressed harder, then wrapped his fingers around it, stroking just a bit faster as he watched her. A feeling of helplessness grew inside him, flushing his cheeks.
His commander returned to her desk and sat down. Giving him one long look, she pulled out papers used for orders and began to write. He didn't know what to do, so he slowed down. She looked up after a moment.
“I didn't say slow down.”
Immediately, he obeyed and stroked faster. The sensations that grew were beginning to get distracting and he could see a few droplets of precum forming on the tip of his cock. She returned back to her writing, the scratching of her pen on the paper almost unheard over his heavy breathing.
Two paragraphs later, she gave a command without looking up.
“Two hands.”
His cheeks bright red and his breath coming in soft gasps, he wrapped his other hand around his cock and began to pump his hands and hips together. His juices dribbled down his shaft, filling the room with the soft slurping noises of his masturbation. He closed his eyes as he concentrated on the feelings.
“Eyes open!”
He jumped and opened his eyes to find her staring at him. Her eyes dropped down to his shaft, then his commander returned to her writing, filling out orders. He had no clue if they were for him or anyone else, but he couldn't stop.
It felt like forever, him standing standing in her office, obscenely pumping his cock into his hands. The sensations were intense and his cock continued to swell, he could barely touch his fingertips around the slicked shaft. Droplets of clear fluid splashed down on the ground as he groaned softly.
“Tell me about her.”
He barely heard her and looked up. This time, the angry gaze was gone, but there was a hard look in her eyes, predatory and hungry. He swallowed hard and spoke, his hands slowly down as he found the words.
“She… um… she was wrapped-”
“Faster!”
The command echoed in the room briefly and he bent his knees slightly, buttocks clenching as he stroked his cock faster. He struggled on for a few minutes before she spoke again.
“Start with her looks. Wrapped in black? What type of wrapping?”
“T-Twelve inches wide, black cloth around her body.”
“Her breasts?”
“Y-Yes?” It was hard speaking while masturbating. It felt like her gaze pinned him to the floor and the wall as he found the images of Dancing Thief rising up in his mind, fueling a growing lust in his loins and sending fresh juices dribbling down his length. She looked up from his shaft and smiled.
“Seems like you remember. What did she look like? Her breasts, you like those?”
“Y-Yes, they were… about the size of my hand, pink nipples.”
His commander began to ask questions, very pointed questions, about Dancing Thief. The size of her nipples, the hair between her legs, the feeling of her body. Every question forced more memories into his mind, sending his cock stroking faster and harder. It wasn't long before he felt the sharp edge of an orgasm rising up, a burning need to come.
“Don't come!”
He almost came right then and there. Biting his lip, he squeezed the base of his shaft until the dry spasms finished. His hands trembled while sweat dripped from his body. He looked up and she nodded curtly.
“I didn't say stop, I said don't come.”
Helplessness burned through his loins as he began to stroke himself again, dangerously close to the orgasm she forced on him. His cheeks burned, along with the rest of his body, and she began to ask questions again. Moments later, he almost came again, his cock slurping and sucking in his fingers, juices dripping down his balls and thighs.
She stopped speaking to finishing writing. Then leaned back, watching him as he frantically struggled to fight against the orgasm that screamed for release.
“What is her name?”
He fought back the tears as he pumped his cock, his body trembling with the effort. His mouth opened, but he couldn't say the words. She shook her head and held up two pages.
“These are two orders. One of them is a censure from this legion. It is your life. The other is not. Now, which order is dependent on the next question I ask, do you understand?”
Hands slurping, he nodded, already knowing the answer.
“What is her name?”
He fought for a moment, unwilling to give up his childhood friend, then he gasped.
“Dancing Thief of Fires!”
He almost came again, a flash of her body pressed against his, the heated feeling of her pussy wrapped around his cock. He bit his lip again, squeezing tightly as his cock fired dryly, straining to hold it in.
His commander set down both pages.
“And…”
He finally broke with a sob of effort, barely able to contain his humiliation and orgasm in.
“S-Sesus Alon… Yanasu.”
A raised eyebrow, “A cousin?”
“N-Nine times removed.”
“Hrm, far enough, the Cynis go for even twice removed.”
He gasped, not really seeing anything as he struggled to keep up his frantic pumping, everything screaming for release. Then, she gave it.
“Come.”
Dripping Fingers looked up in surprise, not sure he heard her right. She nodded and looked down at his cock. Her voice was soft but uncompromising.
“I said come.”
He did. A burning jet of pleasure exploding from his body as the long streamers of cum shot out. His knees buckled from the held-in pressure and he hit the ground as he came again and again, splattering the floor and desk with his passion. It was long and hard and he felt every spasm, every surge of seed that escaped him. With a low sob, he fell forward, supported by one hand only inches above the floor of the office as his other pumped out the last few spurts on the ground.
Dripping Fingers couldn't stand for a moment, the blow of his orgasm too much. Panting, he looked down to see his seed dripping from his own fingers and smiled at the irony of his name. His name came from when he put his hand into a freezing river to save a friend, not from a man masturbating for his commander, but somehow… it fit. He blushed at the thought and struggled back to his feet.
Dominance of Air nodded in approval, then picked up one piece of paper. With a precise movement, she tore it in half, then in quarters.
“As of now, you are to report to me every morning, by six. If you are not standing in front of this desk, you will be punished. And if you displease me, Sesus Alon Tasata, I will write a new censure and no amount of stroking will stop me from submitting it.”
At her pause, he bowed his head.
“Thank you, Tepet Tilis Asarte.”
“Now, there is a towel by the door. Clean up after yourself, get dressed, and I will see you tomorrow.”
When he left, he felt bare to the world, helpless and naked. Cheeks bright red, he looked over at his commander's aide who regarded him with an impassive face. Sputtering, he bowed to her as a junior to a senior officer.
“I, I guess I will see you tomorrow.”
Her expression changed, subtle and somehow just as enigmatic. There was almost a smile on her lips as she bowed back. He wondered if she knew what happened behind the door or he was just one more Dragon-Blooded who found the hard hand of his commander holding his life on a knife's edge.