Master's Play Thing Book One: Marrige

Playing With Master

The tension in the room is palpable. Elias is moving with a frantic, calculated energy, and poor Aryn is caught in the whirlwind of whatever desperate plan is unfolding.

Elias grabbed a ring off his finger and slid it onto Aryn's. "Wear this!" He grabs a blanket off the back of the couch, throws it towards Aryn. "Take your clothes off and lay down under this, mess up your hair! Now!" Elias ordered.

Terrified Aryn complies. Elias starts taking his shirt off and his body is toned. He's sexy Aryn thought.

Aryn’s hands shook as they fumbled with buttons, the heavy ring sliding loosely around their finger—a cold, gold weight that felt more like a shackle than a gift. The blanket was coarse against their skin, a stark contrast to the sharp, clinical fear chilling the air.

Elias didn’t look back as he kicked off his boots. His movements were efficient, his muscles rippling under the dim light as he tossed his shirt aside. He looked less like a man preparing for bed and more like a soldier camouflaging himself for a hunt.

"If they walk through that door," Elias hissed, leaning over Aryn with his c*** grazing her inner thigh, only to rake his fingers through their hair, snarling the strands into a convincing mess, "you don't say a word. You look tired, you look flushed, and you look like you’ve been exactly where you are for the last three hours. Do you understand?"

Before Aryn could whisper a response, a heavy thud echoed from the front hallway. The sound of wood splintering followed—someone wasn't knocking.

Elias’s expression shifted instantly. The frantic edge vanished, replaced by a mask of lazy, post-coital irritation. He dropped onto the edge of the bed, trailing a hand over the blanket covering Aryn’s shoulder just as the bedroom door flew open.

"Rough night for a visit, gentlemen," Elias said, his voice dropping into a smooth, dangerous drawl.

The men who burst through the door don't look like standard law enforcement; they have the polished, lethal look of "private security"—the kind that doesn't carry badges, only high-caliber sidearms and cold stares.

The Intruders

The Lead (Vane): Standing in the center is a man in a tailored charcoal overcoat that costs more than the furniture in the room. He has silver-streaked hair and eyes like flint. He doesn't look angry; he looks bored, which is infinitely more terrifying. He keeps his leather-gloved hands clasped behind his back.

The Muscle: Flanking him are two younger men, built like linebackers and dressed in tactical black. Their gazes immediately sweep the room, checking corners, closets, and finally landing on the bed with predatory clinical interest. One of them holds a heavy suppressed pistol, kept at a "low ready" position.

The air in the room instantly curdles. The smell of the rain they brought in from outside mixes with the scent of Elias’s frantic sweat.

Vane steps further into the room, his polished shoes clicking sharply on the hardwood. He ignores Elias at first, his eyes fixing directly on Aryn, who is huddled under the blanket. He tilts his head, inspecting the "scene" Elias tried so hard to manufacture.

"You’re losing your touch, Elias," Vane says, his voice a low, melodic rasp. "The theatrics are a bit... mid-century melodrama, don't you think?"

He gestures vaguely toward the bed with a gloved finger. "And who is the guest of honor? I don't recall this one on the list before."

Elias doesn't miss a beat. He lets out a sharp, jagged laugh that sounds more like a challenge than amusement. He leans back on his elbows, purposefully shifting so his c*** is a shield between Vane’s cold gaze and Aryn’s trembling form.

"The list?" Elias scoffs, his voice thick with simulated bravado. "Since when did I start filing paperwork for my personal life, Vane? You’re getting paranoid in your old age."

He reaches back, blindly finding Aryn’s hand under the blanket and squeezing it hard—a silent command to stay still.

"The kid's a local," Elias lies smoothly, his eyes narrowing as he locks onto Vane. "We met at the lounge down the street. I didn't think I needed to clear my 'after-hours' activities with the Board. Or did you come all this way just to watch? I can make that happen." Elias reached down grabbing his c*** and starts jerking it.

Vane doesn't flinch. He takes a slow, deliberate step toward the bed, the "Muscle" following like shadows. He stops just inches from the edge, his gaze dropping to the hand Elias is holding.

"A local," Vane repeats, the word dripping with skepticism. He looks at the ring on Aryn’s finger—the one Elias just forced on. "And yet, they're wearing your family crest. That’s a rather significant 'first date' souvenir, wouldn't you say?"

One of the men in tactical gear shifts his grip on his weapon, the leather of his holster creaking in the sudden silence. Elias’s jaw tightens; the mask of irritation is starting to crack under the pressure of Vane’s scrutiny.

Suddenly Aryn gets the courage and rises above the blanket, "Well darling, if they want to watch, let them." She says cunningly. Aryn straddles this unknown, mysterious man that's trying to protect her. Takes his huge c*** and slides it in her pu**y. She was surprised by how big it was. She hugs onto his shoulders with her face in the curve of her neck. Moaning loudly, the intruders back off.

"This isn't over. I will be at the wedding ceremony or you both are done for." Vane ordered the men to leave. As the front door slams shut, Aryn doesn't stop. It's been a long time since she had this much excitement. Elias wraps an arm around her and flips her over onto her back. With one hand he pins her hands above her head and the only hand he traces the curves of her body. Each thrust makes Aryn moan louder and get wetter and get closer and closer.

"I'm going to c*m," she moans.

"C*m for your Master baby." Elias whispered thrusting harder and harder. "Tell your Master when you c*m!"

Thrusting faster and harder, Aryn let's out a moan like no other the green glowing lanterns brightens. "Master I I'm c*mming!"

Elias let's go right with her filling her pu**y. Then he lays next to her with one arm around her. "Well I guess we better plan a wedding."

The room, once vibrating with the threat of violence, was now heavy with the thick, sweet scent of sweat and the fading adrenaline of their performance. The green lanterns flickered, their strange glow dimming back to a soft emerald pulse as the supernatural energy Aryn had tapped into settled back into the floorboards.

Elias lay there for a long moment, his chest heaving in rhythm with hers. The silence of the house felt deafening after the chaos. He didn't pull away; instead, he tightened his grip slightly, his thumb tracing the line of her hip where his hand had left a faint, reddening mark.

He turned his head to look at her, his dark hair damp and plastered to his forehead. The "Master" persona he’d adopted in the heat of the moment was still lingering in his eyes—a mix of fierce protection and something far more possessive.

"You have a dangerous streak in you, Aryn," he rasped, his voice low and gravelly. He lifted the hand wearing the ring, looking at the heavy gold band. "You realize what you just did? By jumping in like that... by claiming that ring in front of Vane... you didn't just save my life. You signed a contract written in blood."

He sat up slightly, propping himself on an elbow to look down at her. His expression softened, though his jaw remained set.

"Vane isn't just a businessman. He's the High Arbiter of the Covenant. If he expects a wedding, he expects a spectacle—and he'll be looking for any sign that we're faking it. From this second on, you aren't just a 'guest.' You're the future matriarch of a house that has more enemies than stars in the sky."

He reached out, tucking a stray, tangled lock of hair behind her ear.

"Are you still looking for excitement? Because tomorrow, the real training begins. We have three days to make you look like you've belonged to this world your entire life."

Aryn was confused. A wedding after a one night stand. This is a different world she thought. What would she go back to Jared the cheater? Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.