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Fourchenault never walks steadily while blindfolded. Loathe as he was to admit it, he has to grasp Ameliance’s hand tight as he takes each uneasy step. Her lacy gloves were soft as he gripped them, gentle as she was.“That’s it, dear,” She says softly, her voice barely above a whisper. The room she leads him into is darker than the room they left, all according to plan. In bright rooms, the light could still sort of filter through the blindfold. But not here. “Careful now,” she instructs.They’d walked through the specifics many times. He’d walked this path many times, and, still, he hesitates. “I’ve got it,” he lies, with as much dignity as he can muster.Ameliance simply laughs, “of course,” she says, not believing a word of it.After all, it is difficult to navigate blindfolded. So she brings his hand down to the bench, helping him feel how low it is. She guides him on his way down until he is seated upon it, the wood cold against his naked skin.“Scoot back an inch,” Ameliance instructs and he does. She takes both of his hands and guides him until he is lying down on the bench, his breath quickening. “Now for those adjustments,” she says.She lets go of his hands and gets to work. The sheer of the lacy glove almost tickles when she suddenly wraps it around his cock, not to stroke, but to guide. A cold, metallic ring slides into it, sitting at the base to keep him from getting too hard, too quickly, or perhaps to keep him hard once he gets hard, or—It is awfully difficult to remember the specifics in this state.Ameliance guides his cock and balls through a hole in the bench. It’s a tight fight, and the ring all but secures it in place. Like this, he won’t be able to touch himself. Not that he would have been able to anyway, with how the rest of it was supposed to go.Rope binds his wrists behind his back. Rope binds his ankles to the legs of the bench, spreading them just a bit. He can feel the cool night air on his ass, and he’s certain he must be blushing to the tips of his ears knowing how prone and on display he is.“Fourchenault, darling, how are you doing?” Ameliance asks. She is standing near his head now. A hand reaches out and fingers run through his hair, as if to alert him to her presence. “Do you need anything? Are the ropes too tight?”“I’m fine,” Fourchenault’s voice comes in a low growl, holding tightly to whatever shreds of dignity he had left.Ameliance’s free hand takes his tie—the only piece of clothing he’d been allowed to wear—and she yanks on it, “What was that, dear? I don’t think I heard you.”She lets him anguish for a moment, before releasing, leaving him gasping for breath, “I’m fine,” he says again, louder, “I don’t need anything.”“Well, we’ll see about that, won’t we?” Ameliance responds sweetly. She pats his head and walks away, the squeaking of the leather his only indication for a moment before he hears her drag a chair across the floor. It stops not far from him. Maybe a fulm or two.Fourchenault listens as she pulls off one of the tall leather boots she’d worn earlier. He feels something coming closer, and then her toes gently graze against his cheek. They smell like lavender, fresh and wonderful and all for him.“You’ll a good boy for me, won’t you?” Ameliance asks sweetly, nudging her toe up against the corner of his mouth, “you always are.”Of course he does as he’s told, getting to work. He starts to pepper her skin with kisses, he takes her toes into his mouth and sucks. Slow and gentle to warm her up, pleasuring her with his lips and tongue. It becomes almost rhythmic, methodical, as he works at it. Something tangible to focus on, besides the cold air upon his skin and his overly-exposed flesh. Something to focus on besides himself.Ameliance reaches over and toys with the tip of his ear just the way he likes. He groans low in his throat for it. It would be better if it were her lips, but it never ceases to work him up. That’s her intention, of course, to try and get him aroused and make his predicament even harder.The thought of the pun would make him curse under his breath if his mouth weren’t otherwise occupied.He tries, instead, to think about her. About the way his tongue dips, now, between her toes. The sweet taste of whatever she’d put on, allegedly for his “delicate sensibilities,” though he would have happily done this even if she had not.“So noble,” Ameliance comments, “taking care of me, when you’ve got yourself to worry about.”Fourchenault doesn’t say anything in response, he simply continues his work. It’s almost like meditating, if he focuses enough. Relaxing in a way he can only get, like this.And then, just as he thinks she’ll want to take the other boot off, or that she’ll want to change so he’s pleasuring her somewhere else, the door opens.Fourchenault’s heart starts pounding in his chest at the idea that he could be seen like this, tied down and helpless; naked and prone.“Shh,” Ameliance says, petting his hair gently, “it is only a friend I have brought to help.”Fourchenault thinks to protest. His arms reflexively fight the bonds, his legs kick against the ropes, but Ameliance has bound him fast. There is nothing he can do but listen and hope that their new “friend” is not someone eager to sell him out to the Forum, or blackmail him for his silence.The newcomer says nothing. With a coeurl-like tread, they approach him. He almost doesn’t realize until they’re seated behind him, and he feels the soft fur of miqo’te ears brushing up against the back of his exposed thigh.“Ameliance…” he manages weakly against her skin, “this is…”His protest melts away when he feels lips against the delicate skin of his inner-thigh. His hands grasp the air and he struggles, the sensation so strong with nothing else to focus on. Ameliance places her foot on his shoulder to hold him steady.“Fourchenault,” the way she says his name out loud, so clearly where their newcomer can hear, where it can be confirmed who he is makes his gut twist in fear and arousal, “be a good host for our guest. It really is the least you could do when he is being so kind to you.”The man’s hand grips his hip tight, helping steady him. But, too, it seems he enjoys feeling his skin, feeling out his muscle. Fourchenault’s breath quickens but the man doesn’t say anything—instead, he starts to pepper Fourchenault’s skin with more of those kisses, such pleasurable torture as they were.“Don’t be shy now,” Ameliance says, but her change in tone makes it clear she is speaking to their guest and not him, “Raha, darling, you can touch his cock.”G’raha Tia’s free hand snakes under the table and closes around his half-hard cock and starts to pleasure it.Fourchenault swallows back a moan, as if showing pleasure to G’raha might weaken his position in his mind. As if enjoying this were some kind of mark upon his legislative record. But G’raha’s fingers are good. Deftly, he works over his cock, a gentle tug to each stroke that he knows Ameliance must have tipped him off to,His face becomes red and hot as he imagines it—had Ameliance taught him by showing him? The idea of his wife pleasuring the miqo’te for an entirely utilitarian reason, explaining all the things that Fourchenault likes best, sparks a strange mixture of jealousy and desire he cannot quite explain. What he wouldn’t have given to have been there, to have been made to see that, cuckolded where he had no choice but to watch and to observe and to know that it was all for him.The thought catches up with his cock, hard now from G’raha Tia’s ministrations and fighting against the cockring. He wants so badly to touch it, to just reach down and pleasure himself to get it over with, but he cannot. The ring will make it last long. The ring will force him to enjoy his pleasure and draw it out instead of being a quick shot.Fourchenault groans in heady frustration.“Ameliance,” he begs, turning his face up to where he thinks she is, his lips parted and breathing heavy. He knows she controls the show. If she wants him to come, she will tell G’raha Tia to make him come. If she wants him to suffer, she will instruct him to draw it out. “Ameliance, please…”But she doesn’t reply. Instead, those same maddening kisses continue until they threaten the tight ring of flesh at his entrance. Fourchenault cries out, his eyes wide behind his blindfold. “N-no, that’s—that’s—”Suddenly Ameliance’s hand his on his chin, turning it up towards him and holding it fast, “Do you want him to stop, Fourchenault Leveilleur?” She asks, her tone serious.Fourchenault swallows thickly and shakes his head, “No.”“Then don’t say such foolish things, my dear. Someone might take you seriously.”Permission granted again, G’raha Tia continues. The Archon’s tongue feels too clever by far as it teases him, moving ever closer to dipping inside and then maddeningly pulling away. Not that Forchenault wants to make him pleasure him that way; not that he’s desirous of it in any way, except for the way that G’raha keeps goading him on.Or so he keeps telling himself.Ameliance pets his hair again and then he hears her stand. He feels her weight drop onto the bench. She scoots closer. At some point she has removed the lacy panties she’d been wearing earlier. He recognizes her smell. He can feel her lush curls as she pulls his head close to her. She helps him settle in, resting his head just right so he can dart his tongue between her folds. He has to trust her completely in this, trust that he won’t fall off the bench, trust that she will hold him steady as he starts to pleasure her.But of course he does.Fourchenault finds Ameliance’s clit easily. He’s done it so many times before, after all. He laps at it with his tongue, savoring the taste. He feels the shiver run through her body when he pushes up against the hood and makes better contact with that bundle of nerves. When he starts to suck, she moans with warm pleasure.It is then that G’raha Tia breaches Fourchenault’s body with his tongue.Fourchenault cries out and writhes with pleasure. Hands are suddenly on him, everywhere, holding him tight.“Keep going,” Ameliance says, “I think he likes that.”G’raha starts to really fuck him, his tongue pressing in and out. The way his chin presses against his perineum is pleasurable too. As G’raha’s tongue starts to carve out space, G’raha’s fingers start to fill it. One, and then two, slick from his spit (and, Fourchenault has to wager, probably lube).“Fuck,” Fourchenault cries out. Ameliance presses his head back down against her. He blubbers out a response against her skin and gets back to sucking on her, apologizing to her flesh between strokes and broken sobs.Fourchenault is so hard now it hurts, and he’s fighting the cockring and the bench besides. His balls throb with want and need, too long drawn out from the two of them. But worse, still—or better, really—is the way G’raha fucks him.“You like that, don’t you?” Ameliance asks him. He’s certain she’s smiling. He can hear it in her voice, “That he’s going to make you come with just his fingers and tongue and there’s nothing you can do about it. You know the truth, don’t you, my love? You’re a fragile man. So sensitive. You don’t even need a cock in you to feel good, do you?”“Mmmph,” Fourchenault whines against Ameliance, sucking harder now to cover it. She laughs warmly, a giddiness that means she’s close. She moves against him, starting to cant her hips up towards his mouth.“Raha, darling, curl your fingers like I showed you,” Ameliance instructs. The image of her fingering G’raha Tia open is almost enough to make him come.Again, G’raha does as he’s told. He curls his fingers inside of Fourchenault and hits his prostate. The pleasure hits him like a targeted spell—a magical burst of perfect intensity. He chokes on it; starts to scream when G’raha presses down again, and again, and again.Ameliance comes while Fourchenault sobs with pleasure against her clit, covering his face with salty-sweet slick.“So beautiful,” Ameliance says, “I wish you could see your good work, G’raha, he looks absolutely divine. Keep going now, dears, you’re almost there.”Fourchenault shakes and writhes against them. G’raha lets up the pressure and then starts again, massaging the orgasm out of his prostate. But the ring fights it off every time he thinks he’s there. He cries, sobbing for air and sobbing for release.“Please, please, Ameliance, please,” Fourchenault begs as she holds and strokes him, “please.”“There’s nothing for it but to keep going, darling,” She tells him, “you’ve got to overcome the pressure. You can do it.”Over and over. Almost there, and then cut off. Drawn to the edge and dangling. It feels like he lasts for hours, with G’raha kissing and lavishing him with affection, working over that spot until he feels like he will burst.And then, just when the pleasure is almost too much, just when he thinks he might give out in their arms, it happens. Fourchenault comes, and he comes hard. His vision white behind the blindfold. He moans loud, unabashed now, and beside himself. Beyond embarrassment. Beyond fear.All that is left, is pleasure.When Fourchenault comes to again, he is cradled in Ameliance’s arms, sucking happily on her breast. G’raha is curled up asleep next to him, his healing magicks still lingering on his wrists and ankles. Fourchenault smiles and takes a deep breath, beyond grateful that they’d both been willing to do this. Beyond grateful that G’raha had agreed when they’d presented him with the idea. Fourchenault reaches over and scratches at the base of G’raha’s ears. G’raha purrs and cuddles closer.Fourchenault is certain this is just the first of many wonderful nights to come.