Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/9416120.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      The_Goblin_Emperor_-_Katherine_Addison
  Relationship:
      Maia_Drazhar/Paru_Tethimin
  Character:
      Maia_Drazhar, Paru_Tethimin
  Additional Tags:
      Tentacles, Forced_Orgasm, Oviposition, Dubious_Consent, Kink_Meme, Porn
      Without_Plot
  Collections:
      Anonymous_Fics
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-01-22 Words: 2692
****** Sharadansho Silk ******
by Anonymous
Summary
     Maia is a prisoner at the Tethimada's mercy. Eshevis Tethimar sends
     his young sister Paru to take full advantage of the situation, and
     Maia unwillingly learns the Tethimada family’s terrible secret.
     (Written for a kink meme prompt requesting Tethimada with tentacles.)
Notes
     Written in response to this_prompt on the TGE kink meme:
     "Tentamar. That is, Tethimar with tentacles. Details are here (see
     the replies too):
     http://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/
     176640.html?thread=960624896#cmt960624896
     Anons with knowledge of Lovecraftian myth are especially welcome to
     write some Tentamar. But if you have no such knowledge please do not
     let that get in the way of your writing about Tethimar tentacle-
     dicking Csevet, or Paru Tethimin entrapping and ovipositing people,
     or whatever your id desires."
Maia was cold. He should ask the edocharei to add more coal, he thought
sleepily. He opened his eyes and simultaneously became aware of many things
that were wrong, in a rush of disorientation. He was lying on a comfortable
bed, but the hangings embroidered with Drazhada cats were nowhere to be seen,
and he was looking up at clouds of delicate white drapery, looped up with
silver cords. He was naked, and as he discovered when he tried to move, his
arms and legs were restrained. Maia raised his head, fighting back a growing
panic, to see that there were cords of white silk wrapped around his wrists and
ankles, each stretching from one of his limbs to one of the bedposts. His arms
were stretched wide and his legs splayed apart, leaving him feeling exposed and
vulnerable. Maia tried to pull free, but the cords, delicate as they seemed,
were also strong. His motions only served to tighten them further, and he let
his head fall back against the pillows. He found himself staring at the bed-
hangings. They were sharadansho silk, he realized with a cold feeling at the
pit of his stomach. The exquisite lace-like embroidery with its threads of
white reminded him too much of spider webs, or a net.
He moved his head from side to side, seeing what he could within his limited
range of vision. The room was richly furnished but unfamiliar. He was alone.
The thought brought a new rush of fear: what had happened to his nohecharei?
Were they dead, or injured? He struggled futilely against his bonds before
having to give up once more. “Is anyone there?” he called. There was no answer.
And then he could do nothing but wait. There was a clock in the room—Maia could
hear it ticking—but he could not see it from his angle. He did not know how
much time passed before he heard a click at the lock, and the door opened. Maia
raised his head. Standing in the doorway was the last person he would have
expected: Eshevis Tethimar’s younger sister, Paru Tethimin.
Incongruously, she stopped just inside the door and gave a graceful formal bow.
Her young face was serious.
“Dach’osmin Tethimin,” Maia said in surprise. After a moment he managed to add,
“Will you untie us?”
She shook her head. “We are sorry,” she said in a low voice. She closed the
door carefully behind her, then moved closer to the bed and stood looking down
at him. Her dress and the arrangement of her hair were less elaborate than when
she had been presented to him at Court, but she was still formally dressed, her
cosmetics carefully applied with a touch of color at her cheeks and eyelids. It
did not make her look any less a child. Maia suddenly felt hideously self-
conscious, spread out before her view. What must she think of him – dark,
skinny, and ugly? Was she glad her brother had not succeeded in arranging her
marriage to him?
“We do not think you are ugly,” she said finally, as if in answer to his
thoughts. Her fingers nervously plucked at the folds of her skirts before she
caught herself and clasped them in front of her. “You are not like us, of
course . . .” She used the plural. Not like the milk-pale elves, Maia supposed,
or not like the nobles who had spent their lives being trained in the ways of
the Untheileneise Court.
“Dach’osmin,” Maia attempted, “why have we been brought here? And does your
family know that you are . . .” His voice faltered. He did not think it could
suit propriety for a young woman to be alone with a naked man, even if it was
not in any way his doing.
“Our brother sent us,” she said quietly. He thought she gave him a look almost
of pity. “You don’t know what Eshevis is like, when he’s angry. It is better
not to refuse him.”
She took hold of the bedpost and, balancing carefully on one foot, she slipped
off one of her shoes, and then the other. To Maia’s surprise, she climbed onto
the bed, kneeling between his spread legs, and carefully adjusted her skirts
around her knees.
“Dach’osmin?” In spite of himself, his voice squeaked upward. “If—if you wish
to speak with us, will you not give us some clothing?”
She shook her head. “You have been prepared for us like this,” she said matter-
of-factly. “It is why we are here.” Her ears dipped nervously. “Though we have
not done this before.”
Maia suppressed the wild impulse to blurt out that he had not done this before
either, at all. His mind raced around uselessly in frantic circles.
“Dach’osmin,” he managed. “What—why—?”
“Our brother was very angry,” she said quietly, “when Dach’osmin Ceredin was
chosen to be your empress instead of us. We are here to—” She hesitated. “To
serve the interests of the Tethimada.” The words seemed to give her more
confidence.
Maia’s ears flattened against his head in alarm and dismay. He forced his voice
to be steady. “Dach’osmin, we have been formally betrothed to Dach'osmin
Ceredin,” he said carefully. "That will not change if we are forced to, to be
intimate with you.”
Paru Tethimin twisted the folds of her skirt nervously between her hands, not
meeting his eyes. “Our brother says that won't matter, once you have our egg in
you.” Maia stared, certain he had not heard correctly.
“The Tethimada are not like other noble families,” Paru continued in her soft
voice. “If you had married us, you would have found out on the wedding night.
But then it would have been too late.” She slid her skirts carefully upward,
tucking them around her waist. Maia had raised his head to see what she was
doing, and he could not help seeing what was revealed beneath her clothing.
Maia had never seen an adult woman naked; his impression of women’s bodies was
formed from certain pictures that one of the servants at Edonomee kept hidden
in a spare drawer, which Maia had discovered accidentally. But this, he was
certain, was not normal. At the joining of her thighs, Paru Tethimin had a
gently wriggling mass of long, flexible appendages. They were pale and white,
like the roots of grasses pulled up from the marsh at Edonomee that had never
seen the sunlight. They uncurled as he watched, stretching toward him. One of
them brushed against Maia’s leg, and he jerked back, as much as his bonds would
allow. There was a tapestry of sea creatures in the palace, he thought hazily,
squid or octopus; it was like their . . . tentacles? Yes, that was the word.
Heedless of his reaction, she stared down at him with a slight frown, then
leaned forward to take a pillow from near his head. Her sleeve trailed over his
naked chest and Maia shivered involuntarily, but the whole situation was too
strange to be arousing. Paru tucked the pillow under his hips and settled back
in her place between his legs, with her knees pressed against the inside of his
thighs. She tucked up her skirts again without hesitation, though the set of
her ears was uncertain. This was why he had been bound here, Maia thought with
growing horror, in this bed with its white silk hangings.
“We do not believe you wish to do this, Dach’osmin Tethimin,” he said
desperately, “any more than we do.”
“It doesn’t matter what we want,” she said, barely audible. “And our brother
says it is very enjoyable.” Her voice wavered doubtfully. She bit her lip.
“Eshevis says it is better to put all of them inside, but we think that would
hurt. And we do not wish to hurt you. We only need one for the egg,” she ended
almost defiantly.
Maia wanted to object to the idea of having any tentacles inside him, but the
word “egg” seemed to trap his thoughts like a fly on sticky paper. The whole
situation seemed unreal and impossible. Things like this didn’t happen . . .
except it was happening, and he couldn’t stop it.
Paru leaned forward slightly, a look of concentration on her face. One of her
hands went between her legs. Maia could not see exactly what she was doing, but
whatever he would have said next was completely driven out of his head when he
felt something thick and wet slide down the cleft of his buttocks. He had
unconsciously expected the tentacles to be cold, but it was hot against his
naked skin, soft and pulsing and slick with its own fluid. The tip pressed
against his hole; Maia made an inarticulate noise of protest and tried to pull
away, but the silk cords held him in place, and it pressed inexorably inward.
At first it was more strange than anything else, but it became painful as the
tentacle thrust deeper, stretching him open. “Stop,” Maia pleaded. “Stop—” All
other words seemed to have deserted him.
Paru tensed, and the inward motion stopped for a moment. Then a shiver went
through her, and the tentacle gave a hard jerk inside him, making Maia cry out.
“I can’t stop,” Paru said breathlessly. “I can’t stop it now, not until the egg
is in. I’ll try . . .” Her voice trailed off; she shivered again and her eyes
half-closed. “Eshevis told the truth,” she said almost in a whisper. “It is
very . . .” She trailed off again. The tentacle continued to slide into him,
inch by slippery inch. It was not so painful now; his body was accommodating
itself to the stretch, though it still felt very strange.
The other tentacles rested against his thighs, gently stroking him with
rhythmic motions like a cat kneading with its paws. They were wet also. A
trickle of warm fluid slid gradually down the inside of his thigh and still
further, like a thin tongue licking slowly across his balls. Maia felt a
stirring of arousal, immediately followed by a rush of shame.
The motion of the tentacle changed, drawing back a little and thrusting deeper,
in rhythmic movements deep inside him; Maia could only endure it. Paru let out
a soft gasp, drawing Maia’s attention back to her. Her face was flushed and her
lips slightly parted; she moved back and forth with small motions of her hips.
Maia could almost imagine that she had taken his cock inside her and was
rocking onto it, instead of – whatever this was, and he felt another surge of
shameful arousal. Perhaps this is the only way thou canst bring pleasure to a
woman, hobgoblin, he thought bitterly. And then, A woman? She is only a child!
I should not be feeling thus. But his body refused to obey his thoughts. The
tentacle was moving faster now, with a rippling motion that was strange but not
unpleasant. It swelled and contracted, pushing into him, and Maia was horrified
to discover that this itself was pleasurable. His cock was hardening, rising
against his body, and he could do nothing to stop it.
Maia did not know how long it went on. He could hear Paru’s quickened breathing
and his own, the soft squelching noises the tentacles made against him. His
entire body felt warm; he found himself twisting with the motions inside him,
though he did not know whether he was trying to escape the sensation or move
toward it. It did not matter; he was impaled and quite helpless, the silken
bonds tight around his wrists and ankles. Every movement increased the pressure
inside him and brought a small jolt of pleasure. The outer tentacles began to
move faster and more wildly against his skin; one wet writhing tip slid against
his erection for a brief moment, and nothing had ever felt so wonderful, but it
was gone too quickly. Maia bit back a moan.
Paru leaned forward a little, her face set in concentration. He had thought the
tentacle inside him was as far as it could go, but it thrust still deeper,
making him gasp. The tentacles not inside him slid forward also—a bare inch,
but it was enough that their tips stroked him in unintentionally teasing
touches as they moved toward him and away, hot and slick against his straining
cock.
Maia was shaking now, his breath coming in gasps. The thick tentacle moving
inside of him, the others lightly playing over his skin—it was almost enough,
almost, but not quite, and his hips jerked with every movement. Then Paru gave
a small squeak and threw her head back, and there was a surge of wetness inside
of him, and a rush of hot slippery liquid over his cock and balls. Maia let out
a small whimper. Something else was pressing against his hole, forcing him open
wider. It should have been painful, but in his haze of lust Maia welcomed it,
wanted to be stretched open further. He was so close—
Some sort of viscous mass was moving into him, the wriggling motions of the
tentacle drawing it further upward into his body, but he could not think about
that, because one of the outer tentacles was sliding firmly over his cock,
finally moving where he desperately wanted it, its touch hot and wet as it
stroked him. And then another tentacle moved against the head of his cock in a
circular rippling motion, and once again—
Maia gave a wild cry and came in a long shuddering moment, his hips jerking
upward, the tentacle still working inside him and the foreign object pressing
deep into him, his body clenching around it in spasms of pleasure.
At last Maia fell back on the bed, overcome. As he lay recovering his breath,
he was vaguely aware of the tentacle slipping out of him and the others
withdrawing from where they had rested on his hips. He felt both sated and
ashamed. He did not want to look at Paru Tethimin, but out of the corner of his
eye he was aware of her leaning forward again, and he looked up in alarm. She
had rearranged her skirts, the tentacles curled away again and hidden. She
placed her hands lightly over his abdomen, where there was something—his mind
shied away from the thought, but he could still feel something inside of him, a
soft round mass. His muscles contracted involuntarily but could not dislodge
it. Paru pressed down lightly, then nodded, seemingly satisfied.
Paru sat back again. “We will send the servants to attend to you,” she said
unsteadily. Her face was still flushed, and her hair clung in tendrils to her
forehead. Maia opened his mouth to protest—he desperately didn’t want to be
seen like this, least of all by servants of House Tethimada—but he couldn’t
manage to utter a word. He was covered in sweat, dripping with his own seed and
the stranger liquids left by the tentacles; anyone who saw him would know he
had been used thus.
Paru reached out to touch the skin of his stomach one more time. “You have our
egg now,” she said, her voice wavering. “Please take good care of it.” She
turned her face away and slipped off the bed. She stood there for a moment, her
head bowed and her ears lowered, smoothing down her skirts with too-careful
motions. Then she deliberately raised her head and left the room with careful
steps. She was in her stocking feet, Maia noticed belatedly; her shoes still
lay beside the bed where she had dropped them.
Maia let his head fall back, staring up at the white silk canopy. Paru had left
him helplessly bound to the bed. He had not felt it at the time, but the silken
cords had left marks on his wrists during his struggles, and now they stung.
His body ached in strange and intimate places, but worst of all was the
shameful memory of pleasure.
He shivered and closed his eyes. His nohecharei would save him, he told
himself, or Captain Orthema. Someone would surely come for him before too long.
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