End My Eternity

"I'm in a good mood tonight."

Leotier lifted his chin, regal and arrogant, like a predator who knew his prey wouldn’t run. His pupils dragged slowly over my body, lingering, hungry. I didn’t need magic to know exactly what kind of mood he meant.

I turned my head and took a deep, steadying breath. Then I met his gaze again, this time with a slow smile curling at the corners of my lips.

"Oh, I can imagine," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm dressed up as silk. "It would be my pleasure to bask in your… generous mood."

He didn’t catch the mockery. Of course he didn’t.

He ran his finger across the surface of the massive black desk.

"I want you. Right here. On this table."

I closed the book and placed it on the black leather armchair, then walked toward him—slowly, deliberately.

I hate when he comes to the library. Or when I’m downstairs in the kitchens, cooking. It’s like he has a radar for the rare moments I feel at peace—only to swoop in and ruin them.

Life in his beautiful castle, a place that holds everything a human soul could ever desire, is nothing but a golden cage for me.

As I walked toward him, he murmured, "Varellun."

In an instant, the delicate white lace dress—one he had chosen for me to wear today—shattered into a million pale fragments. Tiny glowing pieces spiraled through the air around me like feathers caught in a silent storm… and then vanished.

Leaving me utterly bare.

Exposed.

His to devour with his eyes.

I learned long ago that he doesn’t care if I’m in the mood.

Or if something hurts.

Or if I’m simply doing something else.

He doesn’t even care if I enjoy it.

As long as he does.

So I pretend.

I’ve learned how to fake it well enough to keep him satisfied.

Because I also learned what happens when he’s not.

But pretending never stopped me from cursing him silently.

I hate him.

He wrapped his long fingers around my breast and pinched—hard—then leaned in close to my ear and whispered, “Verlisalis.”

Formed from thin air, black leather fragments began to swirl around me—slow, precise, and cruel. They clung to my skin, merging together into a single tight corset, squeezing me until I could barely draw breath.

It was a one-piece design—corset and panties fused as one. My legs were left bare, fully exposed.

And I already knew.

There was a slit in the center of the panties.

A cruel design, crafted to reveal everything the moment I opened my legs.

I didn’t even notice when he changed his clothes with magic.

One moment he stood in his war uniform—black with blood-red details, the one he wore when training with his soldiers.

And now, he stood before me in nothing but tight leather pants, his chest completely bare.

Leotier was fucking beautiful.

Everything a woman could want. Just like his castle.

Especially a human woman like me.

Fucking beautiful.

Fucking powerful.

And a fucking arrogant bastard.

Capable of lies, deception, and manipulation so smooth it felt like silk against the skin—until it cuts.

That’s how I ended up here.

In this gilded prison.

And the worst part?

He enjoys it.

He enjoys the exact moment his victim realizes she’s been played.

That she walked willingly into his monstrous little trap.

And I know all of this… because I’ve been trapped in this hell for over a hundred years.

He extended my life with magic.

Sealed me into my young body—so I would always be desirable to him.

But my mind…

My mind is old.

Tired.

On the edge of surrender.

The problem is—I know what he’s capable of.

I know what I survived in the years of this nightmare, every time I tried to fight back.

As he so proudly says, “taught me how to behave.”

I sat on the desk, spread my legs, and looked him straight in the eye.

"Master, how do you want me?" I purred, placing my hand between my thighs and starting to rub—slowly, deliberately.

I knew he liked it.

His gaze devoured me. Then, in an instant, a leather wheep appeared in his hand.

He clicked his tongue.

His green eyes gleamed with a dark, almost black shimmer.

Then he struck—my hand, and the center beneath it.

"Naughty human," he growled, voice low and unhinged.

I cried out.

"But Master… I like touching myself," I whimpered, voice trembling with want.

"Please, let me..."

Suddenly, he was behind me, slipping the leather strap around my neck.

Then he leaned in close, his lips brushing my ear.

"Tonight, I’m in the mood for something new," he whispered.

The moment the words left his mouth, two of his warriors stepped through the door.

I recognized them, even though we’d never been formally introduced.

Beautiful—like Leotier himself.

Beautiful and deadly.

They were high-ranking in his army.

And in all these hundred years, they’d treated me like a ghost.

Just like the other Fea men.

To them, I was nothing more than the human whore of their Lord.

Filthy.

Unworthy of living among the Fea.

I knew their names.

Raze — tall, with muscles like carved obsidian. His black hair, as dark as the night, fell to his broad shoulders.

Sharp ears peeked out from beneath the midnight strands, hinting at the deadly heritage coursing through him.

His gaze—cold and precise—cut through me like a blade, carefully watching me, legs spread wide across the table.

And then there was Saryn.

Slightly softer than Raze, but only in appearance.

He was also tall, but lean — muscles taut and defined, more wiry than bulky.

His skin held the warm glow of endless sun, bronzed and alive.

Long ash brown hair cascaded down to the small of his back, with a single thick braid falling over one shoulder — a mark of some forgotten ritual or honor.

Though his build was less imposing, his presence carried a quiet, lethal power.

Both of them watched me with shadowed eyes.

Me—legs spread wide, utterly exposed to their gaze.

Behind me, Leotier stood, gripping a leather whip firmly in his hand — the thin leather strips flickering lightly as he held it taut just beside my neck.

No matter how tightly the corset squeezed now, I felt nothing—completely breathless, drained of will to even draw another breath.

But I did.

Sharp and deep, as much as the corset allowed.

I didn’t know what all of this meant.

In the hundred years I’d been here, Leotier had never allowed another Fae to come close to me—never to touch or even look at me like this.

My body had been his alone.

"My dear Thesalia," Leotier spoke loudly, deliberately, so Raze and Saryn could hear every word.

"I've grown rather tired of you lately. And I've spent some time thinking—how to make your existence, and your continued enjoyment of my blessings, entertaining again. For me, of course."

The two Fae exchanged a knowing glance, as if they agreed. As if what he said was completely reasonable.

As if I wanted to be here.

As if I had ever asked for any of this.

Trapped in this gilded cage for more than a century, and somehow I still had to earn the right to live in his so-called grace?

I didn’t even want to live anymore.

Not like this.

A tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it.

"Oh, don’t cry now, dear Thes," he said in a voice laced with false concern.

"It’s not like I’ll throw you back into the dungeon for a few more years. Again."

Over the past hundred years, his punishment for me being “boring” had been solitary confinement.

Twenty-two years in total. Not all at once.

Sometimes five years, sometimes three years, sometimes just a few months.

It all depended on his mood.

I was alone. Forgotten. Broken.

I'd do anything not to go back there.

But the fear I felt as I looked at the two cruel Fae in front of me made me question whether I was truly ready for everything.

What kind of punishment—what kind of torment—had Leotier prepared for me this time?

If he compared it to the dungeon — the worst thing I had ever endured —

then whatever this was... it had to be terrible.

Maybe just as bad. Maybe worse.

My stomach twisted.

Tears streamed down my cheeks like a river.

But if I cried too much, I’d only make him angrier.

So I focused.

I wiped away the tears with the back of my hand, forced my best smile, and said:

"Of course, my lord. I'm ready to earn everything you so generously give me."

I knew he could hear the fear trembling in my voice.

"That's the kind of human I like!" Leotier said with satisfaction.

"Obedient. Compliant."

Then, smoothly, he gave the order:

"Raze. Saryn. Step forward."

He slid the leather whip from around my neck and stepped away.

I watched as he stopped a meter away, hands behind his back, expression unreadable.

Raze and Saryn stepped closer.

Towering.

Terrifying.

Up close, I could see the black leather of their uniforms —

trimmed with sharp red lines and symbols, crisscrossing like veins of blood.

Their arms, and likely the rest of their bodies, were covered in tattoos.

Beasts. Monsters. Creatures I couldn’t name.

Leotier had no tattoos.

He considered them barbaric.

Unfit for someone of high blood.

But even without them,

he was still a savage.

I knew very well what male Fae warriors — highborn or not — did to human girls.

I had lived long enough to hear the stories, to witness ... and to feel it on my own skin from Leotier.

Once, I watched through the window as three soldiers took turns abusing a girl.

Day and night, they raped her.

Every time they finished, she looked broken.

Bleeding.

Her dress torn. Her body ruined.

But they used magic to restore her.

To put her back in that perfect state —

a beautiful gown, silky clean hair, sitting and waiting for them again.

And again.

They let her go in the end.

I remember thinking then…

that I wished I were her.

At least she was released.

At least she got to decide what to do with herself after.

Maybe she survived it.

Maybe she didn’t.

But at least she had a choice.

Unlike me.

"And now," Leotier said with a satisfied wave of his hand. A half-smile played on his lips as he spoke the words:

"Sorrath Krein."

Their damned magic again.

Everything around us turned into swirling black mist.

I glanced at all three of them — calm, still, like they were simply waiting for the storm to settle.

And then — everything stopped.

Cold, bare stone walls surrounded us.

I was still lying in the same position — legs spread, leaning back on my elbows — but no longer on the desk.

Something soft was beneath me now.

Too familiar.

Too painfully familiar.

I knew this place.

The dungeon.

The same dungeon where he had kept me before.

And I was lying on that same straw-filled feather bed where I had spent years — crying, sweating, unraveling into madness.

Around us, dozens of candles flickered.

Their light danced across the faces of Raze and Saryn like it was celebrating the horror that was about to unfold.

As if it was calling it forth.

While I was focused on keeping my panic under control,

Raze and Saryn made all of their clothes vanish with a single spell.

And when I saw them like that—completely bare, stripped of anything that might have made them seem less dangerous—

I lost control.

All I wanted was to tear off that damned corset,

to breathe,

to run.

But the moment I reached for it,

Raze seized my wrists and pinned them to the cold floor beneath me.

His perfect face was now dangerously close to mine.

For a heartbeat, I wanted to bite him—

to mark him, ruin him, break that perfection.

But the thought died quickly.

Because I knew what would come next if I dared.

Raze let out a laugh, but it sounded more like a growl.

He glanced at Leotier, probably waiting for his command.

"You may have her now. However you want.

And please… do try to keep me entertained,"

Leotier said, passing by me as if I weren’t even there.

He settled into a comfortable leather armchair—

an absurd piece of luxury that clearly didn’t belong in this dungeon.

He had conjured it here, just so he could sit and watch in comfort.

His short, perfectly trimmed black hair and flawless, tattoo-free body stood in sharp contrast to the brutal, marked forms of Raze and Saryn.

And yet, despite appearing less terrifying on the outside—

he was the true monster.

The one pulling all the strings.

The creator of every moment of my torment.

I was completely lost.

I didn’t know if I should pretend I was enjoying this, or let the horror show—

the horror I truly felt.

I didn’t want to go back to the dungeon.

I’d do anything not to be locked here again.

"Stand up," Saryn said, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Raze grabbed my arm and pulled me upright.

Only then did I fully see Leotier, seated in the armchair—

shirtless, legs spread.

His gaze was dark and expectant,

his hands gripping the edges of the armrest with quiet impatience.

But I still didn’t understand what he wanted.

How I was supposed to act.

Raze and Saryn were circling me now.

Massive. Overwhelming.

Just the sight of their cocks made my head spin.

They were even larger than Leotier’s.

They moved slowly, like predators unsure where to take the first bite.

And I was the prey.

Raze pushed me to my knees.

The cold stone floor bit into my skin, sharp and merciless, but I didn’t move.

Saryn stood in front of me, his thumb brushing my lips — sliding in, pulling out — as if testing me.

Evaluating.

On the other side, Raze gathered my black hair and tied it tightly at the crown of my head.

“We wouldn’t want your hair in the way while you work,” Saryn whispered, his voice surprisingly soft.

My heart pounded like a war drum in my chest. I thought I might scream. I thought I might break.

But something else stirred.

A voice I hadn’t heard in years.

Not the one that begged for escape.

Not the one that counted days in the dungeon.

No.

This voice was different.

Feminine.

Dark.

Hungry.

It rose from the pit of my stomach like fire in dry leaves.

What if… I wasn’t helpless?

What if, for the first time, I stopped running from the role they gave me — and took it?

Owned it.

Twisted it.

Played the game.

By my own rules.

Maybe I was going insane.

Or maybe I was finally free.

Either way, my body had already answered.

My tongue slid along the pad of Saryn’s thumb, slow and deliberate — not as submission, but as something far more dangerous.

An invitation.

And for the first time in a century…

no one told me to do it.

No one said you have to.

I chose.

Saryn bit down on his lower lip as he watched me take his finger into my mouth.

Then he slid in another — and I welcomed it, my tongue curling slowly over both.

Something wild was stirring inside me.

A storm I had never tasted before.

In their eyes, I saw pure lust — raw and hungry — but not the cruel kind that Leotier always brought with him.

This wasn’t about domination.

Not about breaking me.

Not this time.

Maybe Leotier thought I was unraveling.

Falling apart.

But the truth was…

I had never felt more alive.

Alive.

Awake.

And desperately eager to find out what these two men were going to do to me next.

For a moment, as my tongue traced along Saryn’s fingers, I glanced in Leotier’s direction.

I saw it in his eyes — that familiar satisfaction.

The kind he wore when he believed he was in control.

When he thought he’d won.

And for once…

I didn’t mind.

Let him enjoy it.

Because this time — so was I.

Saryn slipped his fingers from my mouth, the air between us thick with unspoken hunger.

Raze stood before me, dangerously close — close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from him, see the restrained violence in his gaze.

“Take me,” he said.

A command. Low. Controlled.

But something about the way he said it didn’t sound like Leotiern.

It wasn’t a demand.

It was a challenge.

And this time…

I didn’t flinch.

I didn’t freeze.

I didn’t fall apart.

Something inside me surged.

Old. Fierce. Mine.

Desire. Not his. Mine.

I reached out and touched him.

Hot. Heavy. Alive.

There was more power in that moment — in my touch — than in every chain Leotiern ever used to bind me.

And when Saryn stepped closer, his eyes burning with something that didn’t feel like cruelty, but curiosity… anticipation…

I looked up at him.

He didn’t command.

He waited.

He watched.

Inviting.

I reached for him too.

And I wrapped my fingers around both of them —

Not because I was told to.

But because I wanted to.

It was intoxicating.

Their heavy breathing, stirred by the way I touched them, wrapped around me like a dark, sacred hymn. For the first time in what felt like forever, I didn’t feel like a captive or a toy. I felt like a goddess. Powerful. Alive. Desired.

And still… I wanted to belong.

To them.

To the moment.

To something real that burned hotter than fear.

I reached with my mouth for Saryn first. He didn’t pull away.

Instead, he touched my cheek.

A soft stroke. Barely there. But I felt it like thunder under my skin. A touch that didn’t bruise or claim—just… acknowledged. Me. As if, for the first time, someone truly saw me.

Raze was close. His presence—fierce and steady—grounded me in this strange, shifting world of shadows and fire. He didn’t have to speak. The way he looked at me, like he was watching something holy unfold, said everything.

And then, in the blink of an eye—like a beautiful dream trapped inside the darkest nightmare—the candles around us flickered out. They vanished, swallowed by a creeping smoke.

The familiar darkness crawled deep into my soul.

I was still on my knees, the cold, unforgiving stone of the dungeon pressing beneath me.

With trembling hands, I groped blindly in the shadows, desperate to find any sign of life around me.

But there was nothing.

Except...

In the direction where Leotier had been seated in his chair,

His merciless green eyes burned like embers in the gloom.

“You enjoyed it,” he hissed, disgust thick in his voice. “I felt your desire—I saw it in every move you made.”

He rose, and my eyes, now accustomed to the darkness, made out his furious silhouette closing in on me.

“You took pleasure in those two filthy, wretched fools!”

“No, no, my Lord…” I whimpered, tears spilling freely down my cheeks.

“You will stay right here until you understand—I am the only one you are allowed to enjoy! I am the only one worthy of your gaze, you filthy human creature!”