Dinner For One

Everything was neat and elegant, just as he liked it.

The granite dining table set with a complete service of silver-gilt flatware, rich cut glass, and fine burgundy napkins of the softest silk. The Necromancer sat motionless at the head of the ornate table, his index fingers pressed to his lips in thought. The lengthy candles cradled in a pair of five-branched candelabras were burnt down to mere stubs.* Covered plates containing his favorite dish had long grown cold. He finally let out a long, disappointed sigh, resigning himself to the obvious.

That mendacious cunt had stood him up.

Neverlin watched the wet wax trail across the arm of the silver candelabra and dribble down the pedestal into a clumpy black mound. He tapped his lip with a finger; why would Kashta cause such sore affront? Especially considering the circumstances under which he extended this invitation in the first place. His jaw tightened as he recalled the evening at the Carp, and the free manner in which her strange slave addressed him. He normally did not tolerate such insults, and had flayed men alive and forced them to carry their wet skins to their own crucifixions for less. Nevertheless, such behavior in a slave reflected more poorly on the Master, a point Kashta could not demur. But rather than ruin a friendship over it, he forgave the outburst, and suggested they discuss training techniques over dinner.

And this was how she repaid his magnanimity.

He took a deep calming breath, but still felt the pangs of betrayal burn within him. Perhaps she was just tied up with something? After all, she asked his assistance and expertise in a complicated matter of Abyssal rift closure. These types of problems generally didn’t fix themselves. Was it possible she simply forgot? Neverlin tilted his head down, burying his face in his palms as his long hair draped over his face like a blond curtain.

No, unlikely.

Kashta was many things, but incompetent was not one of them.

The happy jingling of tiny bells filled the hall. The ringing grew closer, bringing with it the sweet scent of ginger as his servant approached. The bells stopped suddenly and the young dancer spoke hopefully in her thick accent “Loti bring Master spiced wine.” He did not respond. She pressed the subject with a tender eagerness. “Make Master feels better.” Neverlin finally conceded, and slowly opened his eyes to look down at the girl kneeling by his side.

As always, she wore her lustrous dark hair pulled back in a ponytail fastened with blue ribbon. Her pretty face was painted exactly the way he liked it, with long black lines framing her narrow eyes and full lips bathed in scarlet. The ivory skirt and blouse she wore was of a silky material so fine it appeared transparent against her golden brown skin. The sheer outfit revealed her small, but curvy figure, budding breasts, and the faintest strip of hair between her legs. She held the bottle out to him with both hands reverently, like an offering.

She held the position like a statue as he considered her suggestion, then gestured with his finger toward an empty wine goblet. Lotishe suppressed a giggle, and in a smooth motion rose to her feet.* She held the bottle out at arms length, and exaggerated a bend at the waist, purposefully exposing the tops of her tan breasts to the Master as she filled his cup. But the performance went unnoticed, his attention still fixed solemnly on the last candle-flame whipping back and forth struggling to stay lit. “Loti bring more candles if Master wants.” She said returning to a knee at his side.

He ignored the offer, and extended his hand to pluck the glass from the table. With a twist of his wrist, he swirled the wine around in the deep goblet, bringing it under his nose. Inhaling the exotic aroma deeply, he detected traces of sweet vanilla. He had to admit, it was indeed a fine wine, the girl chose well. Holding the glass to his lips, he paused before taking a sip. Partly to savor the experience, but mostly because his mind was still inextricably wrapped around Kashta’s betrayal.

Inexplicably the wine suddenly splashed up in the Necromancer’s face, accompanied by a faint ploop. Droplets of his spiced beverage dripped down his nose, cheek and chin as he inspected the glass curiously. Then his blue eyes narrowed as something white and foamy bubble to the surface of his drink.

It was a bird dropping.

Neverlin glanced up just in time to see the offending raven soar through the rafters high overhead and exit through one of the upper windows in the circular chamber.

This was just great.

First Kashta ignores his dinner party, and now his own birds were shitting in his wine. Neverlin’s face began to turn a shade of crimson as his breath became uneven and shallow. This settled it.

He was defiantly going to have to fuck something to salvage the evening.

Placing the glass back down on the table carefully, he turned to look down on Lotishe. Her head was bowed so low it nearly touched the ground, and dark hair cascaded gently over her shoulders concealing her face. The girl trembled knowing he watched her, though Neverlin could not discern whether in fear or because she stifled a laugh.

It didn’t matter.

Neverlin snatched her by the thick hair, hoisting her off the ground as he stood, and kicked his chair behind him. “IYEEEEEE!” she cried in surprise, as she scrambled to her feet. Neverlin bent the girl over the table roughly and caused the plates and silverware to jump as he slammed her face into the granite. He gripped the back of her slender neck in his icy grasp, pinning her in the awkward position as he grinded his hips against her buttocks. Lotishe’s bottom wiggled delightfully through the sheer skirt as she attempted to shift from under his painful hold. He found her vulnerability both amusing and thrilling.

This is how it should be, Neverlin thought as a smile finally spread across his lips.

His free hand slipped under the blouse and explored her body. He felt her apple-sized breasts, squeezing them, and pinching her little nipples. His fingers transversed the inside of her thigh and between her legs. A faint gasp left his lips as he felt her thin patch of hair. She parted her legs at his touch and he slithered his long fingers into her. Her body yielded to his caress, moistening quickly as he slid in and out.

The Master stepped away from her to hike the skirt up over her waist. He took a moment to watch her little rear squirm from side to side as she essayed to find a comfortable position across the cold stone. He lifted his tunic and released his hard cock. It was stiff as a board and he thought it might burst as he stared down on her. Placing his hand on the small of her back, he kicked her leg to the side and thrust inside her savagely, shoving as hard and as far as he could.

She screamed.

He shoved again viciously, and the table groaned as it slid an inch along the floor. Lotishe whimpered and vainly thrashed blindly about the table for something to steady herself. Her fingers found the soft napkins and she desperately clutched one in each hand. The initial thrusts into her small opening hurt him, but obviously hurt her more. Anxious to climax, he thrust again, harder this time causing the candelabra to crash to the table, extinguishing the final candle and plunging the couple into darkness.

Neverlin bit his bottom lip as he felt her loosen up, his thrusts coming quicker and better measured. Feigned moans of satisfaction escaped her lips as she moved her hips to his cadence. He enjoyed how foreigners moaned louder during their lovemaking, as if that somehow compensated for the language barrier.

He snapped her arm up behind her back just to hear her cry out again. Normally, he would insist on lighting another candle, finding visual stimulation most pleasing. But for now, the darkness suited him just fine.

His mouth turned up in a twisted grin as he envisioned Kashta beneath him, and all the delicious things he was going to do to her.