The Butler's Vessel Sneak Peek

​My head is pounding with a terrible headache. The breakfast table is swimming in front of me. I can’t taste my toast. I can’t concentrate.  
It’s been three days since my indiscretion, and while I doubt I’ll ever be happy about it, I don’t think I’m so hysterically distraught that I am giving myself a headache. 
Wriggling around to a new position on my chair doesn’t seem to be helping either. Perhaps it is the breakfast room that is the problem? It is lovely and quiet in here, but it is quite bright. 
Uncle Will walks in and takes a seat opposite me. Guilt floods through me. How could I have forgotten the frantic phone call I received last night? Colby, Jem’s brother-in-law, called me to say that Jem had been sent by the council to be emptied by someone else. 
I had told Will, and he had stormed off in a rage, presumably to go fetch Jem. And here I am, moping and feeling sorry for myself. 
I look up from my toast. “How is Jem?” 
“Fine,” Will says with a smile. Then he peers closely at me. “How are you?” he asks. 
I give him a weak smile. “I’m fine, thank you. My social calendar is filling up nicely. I was wondering if you would attend some events with me?” 
“Of course!” he says brightly as he pours himself a coffee. 
A faint clinking sound fills the room. Oh, my spoon is rattling against the edge of my cup as I stir my tea.  
“Perhaps Master should return to his bedchamber,” suggests Jeeves. 
A shudder wracks my body so hard that my teeth clatter. No. It can’t be. Surely it is too soon? It’s only been three days. 
But the droning words of my boring old trainer start to replay in my mind. “When a vessel is first tapped, their magic is erratic. It eventually settles down to a predictable rhythm, with seven days being the most common, but until then, one’s new husband must stay close by. It is why honeymoons exist.” 
Oh, my gods. Is Jeeves correct? Am I ripe? Is this what it feels like? Is my magic brimming? Demanding freedom? Is sex with a mage the only thing that can make me feel better? 
A slow, careful assessment of my body confirms all of those things. I’m ripe. I’m horny. It is true. 
My butler is offering to help me. 
I drop my spoon and flush a bright red. “Umm . . . er . . . Yes, that is a splendid idea. Please excuse me, Uncle Will.” 
I clamber to my feet, turn sharply on my heels, and shuffle away with Jeeves stalking behind me like a dark shadow.  
“What do I do?” I babble. As soon as we are in the hallway and out of earshot of my uncle. 
I have received very basic training on what it means to be a vessel, and the practicalities involved, but right now there is nothing in my mind but blind panic. 
“May I suggest retiring to your bedchamber as a good first step?” 
Ah yes. Of course. How blindingly obvious. He already told me this. I am such an idiot. I pick up the pace and flee to my bedchamber.  
It is dark in here. The curtains have been drawn. Jeeves must have already been in to make preparations. 
I try to swallow, but my throat is too tight. My awareness of Jeeves is like a thousand tiny pinpricks all along my skin. I’m too hot. I’m too cold. I can’t possibly turn around and look at him. My lungs are faltering. Breathing is so complicated when you think about it. 
“Do you wish to prepare yourself, or shall I?” 
The heat of my blush spreads across my cheeks and down my neck. It is burning. At least he isn’t calling me master now. There is security in formality, but there is also coldness. And I don’t think I could cope with that. Not that I am coping with this. 
“I . . . er . . . I can do it,” I mumble, as I run into my bathroom. 
I lock the door and try to remember how to breathe. It’s fine. Everything is fine. I’m getting to have sex with my crush. It’s great. It needs to be done and everyone says sex is fun. I’m no longer a virgin. There is no reason to fall apart. Everything is good.  
No one will ever know.  
No one will ever know that I let my butler rail me. Not that I imagine Jeeves rails. He is probably very calm and methodical. 
Oh gods. Oh gods. Oh gods. 
Deep breaths. Come on now, passing out in the bathroom would be far more humiliating than anything else that is going to happen today. 
Breathe. Just breathe. 
My gaze falls onto the bottle of lube on the bathroom shelf, nestled amongst the soap and shampoo. It never used to be there. Jeeves is being efficient again. And the thought of that is sending my stomach into cartwheels. 
As I turn away from the sight, I come face to face with a pair of soft cream pajamas, neatly laid out on the heated towel rail. My body recoils. My heart sinks. The high quality pajamas symbolize everything that is wrong. If I was about to be emptied by my husband, I’d be wearing a traditional receiving gown. 
Instead, these pajamas seem to be glaring at me accusingly. They are a stark declaration of my unwed shame. My disgrace. I may be lying and hiding it from the world, but I am still a fallen vessel. Tapped, yet unwed. 
Nobody would want to have anything to do with me if they knew. I’m going to be tricking them all. But I can’t trick myself. I can never forget what I am. And my butler knows the truth. He knows exactly what I am. 
Jeeves has given no sign of it, but he has to be deeply disappointed and ashamed of me. Does he look at me and feel disgust? 
I stagger towards the toilet. I think I’m going to be sick. 
I heave dryly, but nothing comes up. My head is pounding. I’m seeing flashes of color. I need to get this magic out of me. Shame and regret are going to have to wait. 
I grit my teeth and reach for the lube. 
A short while later, I stride into my bedroom with false confidence. Jeeves is standing by my bed, his hands clasped behind his back. His impeccable dark suit makes me feel naked in my pajamas. I cannot meet his eyes. The fake confidence that got me out of the bathroom has burned out, leaving me standing alone and deflated in the middle of the room. 
“Would Master prefer to use a brace?” Jeeves asks softly. 
I nod numbly. 
Jeeves steps forward and places something in my hand. I stare at it. It is a finger length of wood wrapped around and around with strips of soft dark leather. Where did he get a brace from? Did he make it? That thought makes all my insides clench and my toes curl. Cold sweat is trickling down my back. 
“Perhaps Master would care to bend over the bed?” 
My eyes slam shut. My fists clench. The brace digs into the palm of my right hand. But Jeeves is right, it is time to get on with this. There is no point in delaying the inevitable. I made this bed, now I have to lie in it. Or in this case, bend over it. 
A strange noise comes out of my nose. It’s part snort laugh, part whimper. I even sound like an idiot. 
Somehow my legs move. They are heavier than lead, but they carry me to the edge of my bed. I lift the brace to my mouth and clench it between my teeth. I bend over my bed and wait. The only sound in the entire world is the thumping of my heart. 
“Do you remember your training?” he asks softly. 
I nod and clench the sheets. My hole is all but dripping with lube, and I’ve opened myself up as much as I can. I hope that is what he is asking me. If he means something else, I am at a loss. 
My pajama trousers are slid down, and my ability to think goes with them. I bite down on the brace and catch my pathetic whimper. Goosebumps erupt on my skin. It is not only trepidation that is coursing through my veins. Despite my nerves, I yearn for his touch, his warmth. I want him to hold me, kiss me. 
But my butler is not my lover. He is only doing this out of necessity. It is going to be cold and functional. Yet still I burn for it. I crave it. I want him. Arousal is thrumming through me. My cock is hard and weeping. I am nervous and ashamed. But oh, so very desperate. 
I could blame it all on the magic, but that would be yet another lie. My magic is screaming for this, but I want it too. I want my butler. I want Jeeves. Another secret to bear. Jeeves is being wonderful and saving me from my own stupid mess. He is going far above and beyond his duty. He would likely be horrified if he knew how pervertedly pleased part of me is about all of this. The poor man deserves far better than my inappropriate lust. He is not my gigolo. 
One hand touches my hip., hotter than a brand. It’s burning into me. Consuming me. I want that touch everywhere, but this is all I’m going to get. I feel like a man lost in the desert, catching a single drop of moisture on his tongue. I need more, so much more. 
Something hot and blunt is pushing at my hole, demanding entry. Oh, my gods. It really is happening. I’m about to be filled, and this time I am going to remember it. Probably for all eternity. For every single life I am reincarnated to, I will dream of this. 
My body is opening up for him. 
“That’s it. Good boy. You are doing so well.” 
The words caress my very soul. My mind short circuits. I bite down on the brace with all my might and only just stop my moan. It would have been a moan of sheer delight. 
He breaches me, and the very tip of him is inside me. It already feels so good. Oh gosh. This is going to destroy me. He sinks in a little further and my body stretches around him. A yowl escapes me, unhindered by the brace. I wince. A good vessel is a quiet vessel, even I know that. I bite down harder and tighten my grip on the sheets. I will not utter another sound. I’m going to be a good boy. 
“Well done. Breathe, that’s it. Bear down against me, as if you are trying to push me out.” 
Pain flares. The stretch has turned into a burn. The brace holds my whimper in. 
“You can do this.” 
I can do this. I am a vessel. It is what I was born for. My very purpose is to surrender my magic and my body to a mage. 
He slides in some more. Panic ignites. I wish I had checked how big he was before I agreed to this plan. I’m going to be impaled. It is too much. It is never going to fit. 
He pauses and makes soothing noises. I wish he’d touch me. Flip me over and kiss me. 
“You can take me, Barny.” 
My heart flutters. My stomach flips and every muscle in my body relaxes. He called me Barny. Jeeves used my name. 
He continues to slide in, and in, but the progress is easier now. Less pain, more pleasure. Warmth is shooting down my legs, causing them to tremble and my toes to curl. My breaths are coming in short, rapid bursts. 
Still he gives me more, and more. Gods, how much is there? I swear if he goes any deeper, he is going to hit my ribs. Surely he has to know he is too much of a man for a novice to take? What was he thinking in offering this? 
And still he eases into me. In and in, and in some more. Never ending. 
Finally, I feel the press of his groin against my ass cheeks. He is all the way in. I have done it. I have taken him all. I could weep with exuberance and joy and pride. 
“Well done, Barny.” 
A helpless groan tries to escape around my brace, but I don’t let it. I’m sweating. I’ve never felt so full, so stretched. So complete. This feels incredible. It is nothing like the dildos I practiced with. Jeeves is so hot and heavy inside me. He is filling me to breaking point. There is no room for anything else, in my body, mind or soul. There is only Jeeves. 
My lungs are heaving now. I can’t remember how to open my eyes. Dull pain is seeping from my palms and my jaw. I think I’m clenching the sheets and biting down on the brace too hard.  
Jeeves moves. A gentle roll of his hips that sets me alight with euphoria. Oh my, that feels good. He does it again, and again. Rocking pleasure into me with every thrust until I feel as if I am floating on a sea of it. 
The friction, the pressure, the feeling of fullness, it is all divine. In my wildest dreams, I never knew it could feel like this. I finally understand why people are obsessed with sex. I think I am going to be now. My new addiction. 
Thrust, and thrust. I’m soaring now. Pleasure is flooding my mind. Every inch of my skin feels alive. It is overwhelming. I want to weep, but all I can do is take it. I can only lie here as Jeeves drives me further, and further into bliss. 
A strange heat is growing low and deep within me. It feels tight and heavy. Magic? Orgasm? Both? I do not know. 
Whatever it is, it is building, and building. It is making me squirm and writhe. Jeeves is keeping his steady pace. The pressure grows, and grows. It is spreading out along my every nerve ending. Consuming every single molecule of my being. 
I erupt. There is no other word for it. All my pleasure, desire, and joy, pours out of me. My magic joins it. My soul is on fire. I am incandescent. I blaze in glory for long, agonizing minutes. And then I am spent. 
Now I am empty and hollow. Wheezing alone as I lie here, bent over my bed. Dizziness swirls through me. I’m shaking. The intensity I just experienced has left me shattered. I can’t think, can’t focus. 
I know only one thing. 
Jeeves has left.