The House of the Eternal Dawn carried a reputation that whispered through the courts and shadowed alleys of Tanea alike: a place of exquisite indulgence where desires were met with unmatched luxury—yet governed by rules as unyielding as elven steel. To some, it was the height of noble decadence; to others, a dangerous allure where pleasure and power intertwined. All knew one truth: within its walls, consent reigned supreme, and the lord of the house’s laws were enforced without mercy.
Tonight, the heart of the House beat in the entertainment room beneath the grand ballroom.
Amber lamplight glowed across plush velvet alcoves and polished marble floors, the air thick with jasmine incense, aged wine, and the faint salt breeze from the private beach beyond discreet doors. On the raised stage—framed by heavy crimson curtains—three performers wearing silver ribbons around their necks moved through a sultry burlesque: feathers teasing skin, silk gloves sliding away inch by inch, bodies arching in perfect rhythm to plucked strings and low drumbeats. The crowd watched with appreciative hunger, glasses raised in quiet toasts.
In one shadowed alcove, a guest received discreet attention beneath the table from a red-ribboned worker, her head movements between his legs hidden but unmistakable in the flush rising on his neck and the moan escaping his lips. Nearby, a waiter wearing a silver ribbon around the neck leaned in as a patron murmured, “When does your shift end?”—earning a playful smile and a whispered promise. A guard, silver ribbon tied around his neck with a neat bow stood vigilant as a bold guest flirted outright, testing boundaries with a lingering gaze that earned only a cool, professional nod.
In a dim corner booth, a pair of women—both wearing a red ribbons—lost themselves in a heated kiss, hands wandering beneath sheer fabrics, breaths mingling in soft gasps unnoticed amid the room’s indulgent hum.
A blushing young man, wide-eyed and clearly new to such nights, allowed himself to be led toward the east wing by a confident gold-ribboned companion, his hand trembling slightly in the older man’s steady grasp.
At the long onyx bar, crystal decanters caught the floating illusion-lights like captured stars. Eiya’Nora stood there briefly, porcelain skin luminous under the glow, long wavy purple hair cascading down her back, pointed ears adorned with simple amethyst drops. Her gown of deep violet silk hugged her curves elegantly, a blue ribbon tied in a perfect bow at her throat the only stark contrast—a silent declaration that drew eyes, then quickly averted them.
She collected a flute of sparkling elderflower wine, turning with quiet grace. The crowd parted instinctively as she crossed the floor: a red-ribboned dancer stepping aside with a respectful dip, a silver ribonned server pausing mid-stride, even a boisterous group quieting as the blue ribbon passed like a royal banner.
She ascended the few steps to the elevated platform where the lord of the house held court.
He lounged in his high-backed seat like a throne—legs spread in casual dominance, cobalt shirt half-open to reveal toned chest, platinum hair loose, steel-grey eyes never leaving her approach. On his left stood the towering female elven guard: dark purple skin gleaming like polished amethyst, short dark blue hair framing a stern face, glowing blue irises scanning the room with folded arms and unspoken menace—larger than Lord Grov himself, muscles coiled beneath fitted black leather.
On his right leaned the bombshell half-elf: cascading deep blue hair framing a face of sultry perfection, full curves poured into midnight silk that clung like a lover’s hands, every line of her body the stuff of fevered dreams for men and women alike. She rested one hand on the throne’s arm, wineglass in the other, lips curved in perpetual amusement.
As Eiya’Nora reached the platform and handed Grov his glass, the blue-haired beauty tilted her head with a teasing lilt, eyes like sapphire watching with mischief.
“Not a single soul down there dares more than a glance at your precious blue ribbon crossing the room, Master,” she purred, emphasis dripping sarcasm on the title. “How ever do you bear the deprivation?”
Grov’s smirk deepened, steel-grey eyes flicking to her briefly before returning to Eiya’Nora. He sipped the wine, free hand settling possessively on her waist, pulling her closer.
He leaned toward one of the silver ribboned guards standing near the platform and spoke a single name.
“Jack”,
The young human guard appeared at the platform’s edge– tall, steady, eyes lowered.
“Master,” he said with quiet deference.
Grov’s fingers tightened briefly on Eiya’Nora’s waist—warm, promising—before releasing her.
“Escort Eiya’Nora to my private quarters. There are garments waiting for you on the bed.”
His gaze lingered on her, voice dropping to velvet command.
“ You’ll know which. I’ll join you shortly.”
Eiya’Nora’s cheeks warmed beneath the platform’s light, but she inclined her head gracefully, the blue ribbon catching amber glow as she turned to follow Jack toward the hidden staircase.
Below, the burlesque swelled to its climax, but on the platform, Grov’s attention had already followed the porcelain skinned beauty’s ascent—anticipation sharpening his smile.
The night was far from over.
And the dawn would find them renewed.
—-
The heavy oak door to Grov’s private chambers closed with a soft, definitive click, sealing away the distant thrum of music and laughter from the lower halls of the House of the Eternal Dawn.
The room was bathed in low, golden candlelight—dozens of flames flickering in silver sconces along the stone walls, casting warm shadows across the massive four-poster bed draped in deep indigo silks. The air carried hints of sandalwood and night-blooming jasmine from the open balcony doors, where the cool evening breeze stirred the gauzy curtains.
After kicking off his boots Grov sat down on the edge of the wide bed, legs slightly apart, posture relaxed yet unmistakably in command. His open dark-blue shirt hung loose over his broad chest, the laces of his black leather pants glinting faintly in the candlelight. As Eiya’Nora hesitantly appeared from behind the dressing screen, sharp steel-grey eyes were watching her with that familiar, possessive amusement, the corner of his mouth curved in a faint, knowing smirk.
She slowly walked towards Grov and stood before him, fingers lightly twisting the hem of the babydoll he had chosen for her tonight—a delicate confection of pastel lavender chiffon and satin, so sheer the candlelight traced every soft curve beneath. The thin straps rested delicately on her porcelain shoulders, the lace-trimmed cups hugging her breasts before the fabric fell in a teasingly short flutter that barely brushed the tops of her thighs. Matching lace panties peeked beneath, and the blue satin ribbon tied in a perfect bow at her throat—the mark that declared her untouchable to anyone but him—caught the light like a jewel.
“Come here, my beauty,” Grov murmured, voice low and velvet-rough, the kind of tone that always sent a shiver down her spine.
She stepped forward without hesitation, though a shy flush warmed her cheeks. When she was close enough, his hands settled on her hips, thumbs brushing the lace edge of the babydoll as he guided her gently between his thighs. Eiya’Nora’s breath caught as he drew her down to straddle his lap, the silk of the nightie sliding cool against her skin.
His palms glided up her back, slow and deliberate, gathering her closer until she was pressed flush against his bare chest. One hand tangled in her long purple waves, tilting her head back just enough to expose the line of her throat and the blue ribbon that rested there.
“Perfect,” he whispered against her skin, lips grazing the sensitive spot just below her ear. “Every inch of you wrapped up like a gift… and all mine.”
Eiya’Nora’s hands came to rest on his shoulders, fingers curling lightly into the fabric of his shirt as she melted into him. A soft, involuntary sound escaped her lips—half sigh, half plea—and Grov’s answering chuckle was dark and pleased.
“No one else gets this,” he continued, voice dropping to a possessive growl. “No one else sees you like this. No one else touches what belongs to the Master of the House.”
His hand tightened gently in her hair, tipping her face up to meet his gaze. Those steel-grey eyes burned with quiet dominance, daring her to disagree—daring the world to try and take what was his.
She didn’t disagree. She never would.
Instead, she leaned in, brushing her lips to his in the softest, most yielding kiss—offering everything he already owned.
Grov accepted it with a slow, satisfied smile, and deepened the kiss until the only sounds in the chamber were the crackle of candles and her quiet, breathless surrender.
“Stand up,” he ordered, his voice a quiet command that brooked no argument. His hands lingered on her hips for a moment longer, thumbs pressing into the lace just enough to make her gasp, before he released her.
She slid from his lap, legs a little unsteady as she stood before him. The babydoll’s hem barely skimmed mid-thigh, the sheer material catching the candlelight and hinting at everything beneath—the matching lace panties, the smooth porcelain curve of her hips, the faint tremble in her stance. The blue ribbon at her throat was a stark reminder: his mark, his claim.
“Take off the straps,” he said, leaning back on the bed, elbows propped behind him, legs still parted in that nonchalant sprawl. His open shirt slipped further, revealing more of his chiseled torso, but his eyes never left her.
Eiya’Nora’s fingers trembled slightly as she reached for the thin straps, sliding them down her shoulders one by one. The satin cups loosened, the babydoll whispering against her skin as it pooled at her feet in a lavender haze. She stood bare except for the lace panties and the blue ribbon, her porcelain skin glowing in the warm light, nipples pebbling from the cool air and his unrelenting gaze.
Grov’s smirk deepened, a low hum of approval rumbling in his chest. “Beautiful. Now, come here—slowly.”
She obeyed, stepping forward until she was between his knees again. He sat up, hands claiming her waist, pulling her down to straddle him once more. The leather of his pants was cool against her thighs, a contrast to the heat building between them. His fingers traced the blue ribbon, tugging it gently like a leash, drawing her closer until her breasts pressed against his chest.
“Everyone downstairs dreams of this,” he whispered, lips brushing her ear. “They see you with that ribbon and know you’re mine to show off—or keep hidden. But tonight, it’s just us. And I’m going to take my time reminding you why.”
His hands slid lower, hooking into the lace of her panties and easing them down her hips. She lifted slightly to help, a shy whimper escaping as the fabric slipped away, leaving her fully exposed. Grov’s touch was firm but teasing—fingers grazing her inner thighs, circling but not quite touching where she needed him most. He watched her face, savoring the way her eyes fluttered, the blush spreading down her neck.
“Hands on my shoulders,” he instructed. “Don’t move them.”
She complied, fingers digging into his shirt as he finally touched her—slow, deliberate strokes over her pleasure spot that made her arch and gasp. His free hand cupped her breast, thumb circling the peak until she was trembling, her hips rocking instinctively against him.
“Please, master,” she breathed, voice barely a whisper.
Grov chuckled, the sound dark and satisfied. “Not yet. You’ll beg properly before I’m done.”
He shifted, flipping her onto her back on the bed with effortless strength, the indigo silks cool beneath her. Towering over her, he shrugged off his shirt completely, then unlaced his pants, freeing himself with a low groan. His body was a masterpiece of high elven nobility—lean muscle, pale skin marked by faint scars from old battles, every inch radiating dominance.
He settled between her legs, hands pinning her wrists above her head with one grip, the other trailing down her body. “Look at me,” he commanded as he positioned himself, teasing her entrance until she was writhing. “Who do you belong to?”
“You, master,” she gasped. “Only you.”
With a possessive thrust, he entered her—slow at first, savoring the way she tightened around him, her shy moans filling the room. He set a rhythm that was all control, deep and unrelenting, his free hand roaming—tugging the blue ribbon, pinching, stroking, driving her higher.
The bed creaked under them as he increased the pace, his steel-grey eyes never leaving hers, daring her to break, to give in completely. “That’s it,” he growled, voice rough with pleasure. “Let them hear us downstairs. Let them know exactly who makes you squirm like this.”
Eiya’Nora’s back arched, her soft cries building as he pushed her toward the edge. He leaned down, capturing her mouth in a bruising kiss, swallowing her moans as he drove deeper, harder, until she shattered around him—trembling, gasping his name like a prayer.
Only then did Grov allow himself release, burying himself fully with a low, triumphant groan, marking her in the most intimate way. He collapsed beside her, pulling her into his arms, fingers idly tracing the blue ribbon as their breathing slowed.
“Mine,” he murmured against her hair, a final, satisfied claim.
Grov’s chest rose and fell in slow, satisfied breaths, his arm a heavy, protective band around her waist as she lay curled against him, skin still flushed and glowing in the dying candlelight.
Eiya’Nora’s fingers traced idle patterns over his chest, her cheek pressed to his shoulder. After a long, quiet moment, she tilted her head up, lips brushing the line of his jaw. When she spoke, it was the softest thread of sound—her damaged voice never able to rise above a whisper, even when her heart was loud.
“Thank you… Master.”
The words were feather-light, almost lost in the hush of the room, but Grov heard them as clearly as if she’d shouted. His steel-grey eyes softened—just a fraction, just for her—as his hand came up to cup the side of her throat. His thumb settled gently over the faint, silvery scar hidden beneath the blue ribbon, a touch both tender and territorial.
“You never have to thank me for what’s already mine,” he murmured, voice low and rough from exertion. “But I’ll take that whisper anyway. It’s the sweetest sound in this entire House.”
He pressed a slow kiss to the ribbon itself, lips lingering over the place where silk met scar, as if he could erase the memory of old pain with new devotion.
She shivered at the contact, her hand sliding up to cover his, holding it there. Another whisper escaped her—barely audible, but heavy with feeling.
“I’m safe… with you.”
Grov’s arm tightened around her, pulling her impossibly closer, his smirk gone now, replaced by something fiercer, more protective.
“Always,” he promised against her skin. “Anyone who forgets that scar was the last mistake they ever made… will learn it quickly.”
Outside, the distant music from the lower halls drifted faintly through the stone walls—laughter, clinking glasses, the pulse of the nightclub wing he ruled. Dozens of ribbons of every color moved through those rooms tonight but in here, there was only blue.
And it was his.
He tucked her head beneath his chin, fingers stroking through her purple waves until her breathing evened out, soft and trusting. Only when she finally drifted toward sleep did he allow his own eyes to close—still listening, always watching, the Master of the House of the Eternal Dawn guarding his most precious treasure in the quiet dark.