Loki's Kitten

Chapter 8: The Illusion of Choice

Loki scoops you into his arms and carries you effortlessly out of the room. You cling to his neck, your cheek against his bare chest, pressing your body close to him as he walks up the stairs. He sets you down gently on your bed and lies alongside you. He seems to perceive your need to maintain physical contact with him and draws your head in to rest on his chest, lightly stroking your hair. It had never in your wildest dreams occurred to you how pleasure and pain could combine to form something so intense, or that physical intimacy could be so inextricably bound with emotional connection. It was like nothing you have ever experienced before and you feel exhausted, not just bodily, but also mentally.

"Now it is my turn to take care of you, my love," Loki whispers softly, close to your ear. It occurs to you that this is the second time he has called you by that name, and you are rather partial to it. Loki rises from the bed and you hear the baths taps turning and the sound of running water. You realise you are still shivering and several parts of you are aching and tender – a warm bath is exactly what you need. You prop yourself up slightly in bed and dare to examine your body. You see no marks on your front, although there are drops of hardened wax in spots and splashes all over your torso and thighs. There are red rings around your wrists where your weight had rested on the cuffs and the leather chafed your skin, but they are nothing like the angry marks your handcuffs had left on Loki. You feel a pang of guilt, but remind yourself that he chose to stay where he was; to suffer the experience as a mortal. Then again, he did it for you.

You roll over onto your side, glancing down you back, scanning your bottom and legs. You startle at the sight, astonished that you are not in more pain. There are faint red lines covering you from below the small of your back, all the way down to your lower thighs. But the marks that draw your eye are the thick welts on your right buttock, raised and angry, the skin around them already starting to bruise. You remember that stroke. Responding to the memory, you brain does something completely extraordinary and unexpected. Instead of you linking your injury with pain, or fear, or regret or anger at Loki's actions, you find yourself deeply aroused at the recollection. You had no idea that intimacy could take on so many forms.

"Come, let me help you," Loki takes your hands, pulling you to your feet and guiding you into the steam-filled bathroom. He helps you step into the soothing water and, as you stand with your back to him, his fingertips lightly trace the markings on your body. He lets out a low, sorrowful sigh.

"Oh, Kitten..." he begins, his tone contrite. You turn to face him, putting a finger to his lips to stop him.

"No, Loki. It was what I wanted. I am strong enough – I told you that."

"But..." he continues.

"No," you repeat firmly, this time silencing him by pressing your lips against his. You can feel him relax into you as he tempers his impulse to seek your forgiveness.

"The bath will help." You realise the water is covered in a rich lather, emanating a comforting and relaxing scent you don't recognise.

"It is of Asgard," Loki explains, "We use it sometimes after battle. It will help," he repeats.

Loki supports your arms as you sink into the water. You lean back with your head resting on the edge of the bathtub and close your eyes. It is bliss. You feel Loki using a soft cloth to gently rub the soapy bubbles over your skin. He starts with your legs, carefully lifting each leg out of the water, rubbing in little circles over your thighs, helping the wax to melt away. Next, he attends to your stomach and your chest. Finally, he massages the soap over the fullness of your breasts, removing the last traces of the wax. Loki had carefully avoided letting the candle drip too close to your nipples – you presume he judged that the skin would be too sensitive for the sensation to be enjoyable. But he does not avoid them now. With your eyes still closed, you can feel that he no longer holds the cloth, but instead is using his hand to tenderly caress your breasts, lingering his fingertips of your nipples and rolling them gently between his thumb and forefinger. The feeling is delicious – gently arousing but also comforting. You take in a deep breath and let out a long sigh as you sink further into relaxation and pleasure in Loki's hands.