Calliope slid slowly into the piping hot bath and eased in with a deep sigh. The hot water felt incredibly good as the heat slowly seeped into her aching body. Her body, and in particular her legs, had been well used chasing errant sheep all over the lovely, but uneven and rocky, terrain surrounding the caverns. Over the last while she’d been introduced to parts of her she didn’t even know she had. She knew now because they hurt. One spot in particular, at the back of her thigh… she wished, and not for the first time over the past few days, that Thelios was back with those strong hands of his. He’d have the knots worked out in minutes and would be well on his way to… no, she was not going there. She was not going to moon over Mr. Nymphs-are-cold-fish.
She rubbed her leg absently and closed her eyes, forcing out thoughts of large, strong hands and replacing it with recollections her previous encounters in town. Bumping into Alexia had been awkward but not intolerable, and even if she did get strange or dirty looks the next time she went out, she wouldn’t find it all that intolerable either. She was quite capable of rising above her discomfort, and as much as she’d grown to like both Demitri and Thelios, and enjoyed their company, it was nice to be in the world again even as an odd sort of outcast.
That thought naturally turned her mind to Thelios again. It must be lonely to be feared all the time, unable to find companionship. It was no wonder he resorted to sacrificing women. Or rather having them sacrificed to him. And she was that sacrifice.
She sighed and sunk into the tub, submerging her head and enjoying the buzzing silence as long as she could before emerging and pulling strands of hair from her eyes. When was he coming home? She wondered and absently soaped herself, lathering her hair and staring blankly at the water as she let her mind wander through her thoughts of her new master, or rather only master.
She’d never imagined a life like this, as a servant to an infamous monster. Who would? Being a wife perhaps, like all the other women in her family, all her friends. A merchants wife as her father had suspected, keeping books for her husband and tending his business in his absence. Then again what did she do here that a wife wouldn’t? Even in the wealthiest homes a wife is expected to at least organize or oversee the cooking and cleaning, even if she didn’t do it with her own hands. Though her own marriage, like her eldest sister’s, would have no doubt seen her doing quite a bit of it herself. And of course there would be the ‘other’ responsibilities of a wife, which she was forced to admit were quite a bit more pleasant than she’d ever suspected, or even fantasized. She was aware that it was often painful, especially in the beginning. She had been prepared for that.
It was rather. Pleasurable that is. Sometimes painful, yes… usually a touch of both. She flushed deeper.
And he was not a delicate lover by any stretch of the imagination. By no means cruel or selfish, but not particularly gentle either. She imagined this was the norm, she’d been made to understand that there was sometimes pain involved, and that could only be intensified by the fact that he was significantly larger and stronger than most men.
In his own way, she considered, he was probably handling her carefully, even if he did leave her a little bruised and raw from time to time. Though she rarely noticed that until the next morning. And, of course, that ache was very different and Much preferred to the one she currently felt. There was something oddly satisfying about that particular kind of ‘morning after’ ache and it left her with a buzzing tingle from her top of her head to the tips of her toes.
Her lips twitched. She had no one to compare notes with, so she couldn’t say if she was normal or if perhaps she had a higher pain tolerance than some women. The truth was she did find that the mild pain of it often accentuated and sharpened the pleasure of the act. It usually just resolved itself into one undifferentiated mass of overwhelming sensation by the end anyway. So with this, she could only be satisfied. To say the least. She shifted her thighs as an involuntary twinge accompanied that thought.
“I thought we agreed not to go there?” She muttered to herself. Her ‘self’ declined to answer. She gave a mental shrug and gave into her forbidden distraction knowing that it was pointless to fight the inevitable.
What else was there then to differentiate this life from the more expected sort… except for providing an heir? She paused and frowned. She’d never even considered that possibility… but then perhaps it wasn’t even possible?
Many things were possible. Hadn’t he said that once? She ran her fingers over her stomach contemplatively, automatically counting back the weeks of her cycle. It had been at least a month, more even. Maybe even nearing two… but then she was notoriously erratic in that regard, so she had no reason to get worked up. Though, she’d been skipping breakfast more and more lately… but again, she’d never had a strong stomach in the morning. It could be nothing… it was probably nothing.
Either way, the thought was now there, firmly embedded in her mind. She knew it would drive her mad until she could tell for sure.
‘What would that be like? Should she be worried?’ She had always assumed she’d have children some day, did it matter that they were his? She smiled faintly again. Yes, it did matter. But that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. He had a commanding presence, yes, but also a calm demeanor to complement it, as he was neither rash in his judgments nor, in her experience, quick to anger. He was easy in his manners, but still firm in his convictions. She nodded, mentally checking off what she felt to be necessary prerequisites for respectability, and confirming to herself her decision that he would make a fine father.