Claiming the cat

He pulled her up into his lap by the waist and did not bother taking the recliner slowly.

“You understand what buying you would mean,” he said, lining himself up against the heat he had been fingering through her whole biography. “I don’t let go of things I own. Not a ring. Not a cow. Not a cute kitty slut who drinks on command.”

Lynette’s ears went flat. She nodded once, then gasped when he pushed into her in a single, claiming stroke. Tight. Wet. The kind of cunt that had been waiting through three other women’s wreckage without asking for a turn.

“Say it while I’m in you.”

“You would keep me.”
Her voice stayed even for exactly one thrust. The second one put a crack in it.
“Permanently. No resale. No sending me back to the desk when you got bored.”

“Worse,”
Aether said, and started fucking her properly, dirtytalk riding the same rhythm as his hips.
“You wouldn’t just be mine in a pretty collar-on-a-shelf way. You’d be the pride’s. Rosaria’s extra pair of hands. Ganyu’s thing to lean on. Lisa’s toy when she wants a mouth that doesn’t talk back. You’d serve more cunt than cock most weeks. That’s the job. That’s the house you’d live in.”

Lynette clenched around him hard enough that he laughed under his breath.

“Truth,”
he said.
“How does that sit.”

She took a few strokes to answer, because he was not making it easy. He kept her impaled and talking, one hand on her hip, the other idly rolling a nipple, using the conversation the way other men used dirtytalk without needing a story under it.

(https://im.ge/i/QQTxJAq)
(artist: miyu)

“It would be appreciated.”
Flat. Honest. Ruined only by the wet sound of him driving into her.
“Father trained the rest of it into us on purpose. Objectification. Humiliation. Service. Being a thing in a room instead of a guest. It is not a wound I am hiding from you. It is the shape she left. A household that uses me as shared property is closer to the lesson than a man who only wants a pretty assistant for the afternoon.”

Aether kissed the side of her throat and fucked her through the admission.

“Good kitty.”

Lynette’s composure finally slipped. She made a small, punched sound and tried to keep her hands where they belonged — on his shoulders, not covering her face — while he talked her into the next peak like it was part of the contract.

“You’d sleep where we put you. You’d eat when someone remembers. You’d get passed off mid-sentence if Rosaria wants you under the table. Ningguang would pay for you and never ask if you were happy about the receipt. I’d still be the one who owns the ass. The rest of them would just use it.”

“Yes.”
No hesitation. Only heat.
“That is — ah — acceptable. Preferred.”
Her ears trembled.
“Please do not stop talking as if I am furniture. It makes it difficult to lie, and I was not going to lie anyway.”

He smirked against her mouth and kept her on his cock

Lynette lasted.

That was the first thing that separated her from the rest of the Fontaine stack cooling on the furniture. Navia had crumbled into polite wreckage. Chevreuse had gone cross-eyed on an order. Emilie had stopped answering with a notebook still open. Lynette took him through the next stretch like the House had built her with a second battery and forgotten to tell the resort.

Aether knew, somewhere in the middle of folding her in half, that she would fit the pride. Not as a guest. As weight that did not have to be carried.

(https://im.ge/i/QQTxnHp)
(artist: miyu)
She took a brutal angle without asking for a softer one. She came and stayed open. She looked at him afterward with the same small, precise attention she had used on the wall, only now it was flushed and wet and secretly, obviously glad.

She had been hoping for this since the beach.

It sat on her face once the professional shell started cracking — the memory of sand and public hands and the quiet, ugly little wish she had not put in any report: that the man from the papers would not treat her like an amenity and leave. That he would keep going. That the afternoon would turn into a household.

He gave her that whether she said it out loud or not.

The longer he fucked her, the less of the magician’s assistant remained. The flat voice frayed into shameless sound. Moans first, then broken ones, then the raw little cries she had been trained not to bother a client with.

(https://im.ge/i/QQTxB1P)
(artist: miyu)
Climaxes stacked without ceremony. She never asked for a pause. Not when he folded her until her knees were at her ears and the recliner complained. Not when he turned her, dragged her to the edge, and plowed her from behind with a handful of pale hair and the wet, relentless pace that had already emptied three other women.

“Good,”
he muttered against her spine, and felt her clench like the word was part of the purchase.

Lynette came hard enough that her limbs went out from under her.

(https://im.ge/i/QQTxGw1)
(artist: miyu)

It was not a pretty faint. It was the honest collapse of a body that had finally spent the last of its coordination: arms slack, one knee sliding off the cushion, ears flat, cunt still fluttering around him in helpless aftershocks. Even then she tried. She hooked a useless ankle toward his hip. She angled her hips up with what motor control she had left, presenting, offering, making herself a shape that could still be used if he wanted the rest of what was in her.

Aether smiled at that.

Devotion without a speech. The Knave’s lesson sitting in a girl who could not lift her own arms and still wanted to be convenient.

He eased out of her before the next thrust could turn the collapse into damage. Lynette made a thin, disappointed sound and went still when he palmed her hip, a quiet stay that she obeyed because staying was also service. He grabbed a sheet, dragged it over her without making a production of aftercare, and kissed the damp hair above her ear.

“Rest. You’re already in. I’m not putting you back on a resort list.”

Her eyes tracked him, glassy, grateful, already half under.

Then he turned to the room that was still breathing.

Navia had found enough of herself to watch from the pillows, gold dress a suggestion, smile lazy and ruined. Chevreuse was on her side with a hand over her lower belly as if she could feel the order cooling there. Emilie had not moved from the table; she was dripping on her own labels and blinking like a woman returning to a body she had misplaced. The afternoon was not finished. The Flame did not care that he had already been generous. The pride-shaped hole in the day still wanted filling, and the three of them were right there, used and available and not nearly as durable as the cat he had just decided to keep.

Aether rolled his shoulders, still wet, still mean with leftover hunger, and reached for the next body that could take a turn while Lynette slept the devotion off.

“You three,”
he said, and Navia’s laugh came out hoarse and delighted.
“We’re not done. She earned a nap. You can earn yours.”