Grigon’s shirt was a semi-soft linen, undoubtedly the best material available to those who were above the level of peasant but below the level of nobility. I found a faint, musky, masculine odor and concentrated on that, trying to keep my attention away from where my antagonist’s free hand had returned. Bellna wanted to kick and scream and fight and throw herself around, but the peasant I was supposed to be would never be allowed that kind of theatrics. Grigon had taken to indulging in a bout of slow teasing, and after a few minutes of his silent indulgence, I made another unpleasant discovery. It had been a long time since I’d last seen to my sexual needs, and although my body had been made to match Bellna’s, my reactions to things like Grigon’s teasing were strictly my own. It came to me that this rime the bastard was after me, but there was less I could do about it than when he’d dug for Bellna’s reactions. I’d been able to keep her from taking over when he’d been the victim, but keeping control was going to be harder with me on the hot seat. I squirmed involuntarily at the picture those thought-words evoked, and immediately regretted it.
Grigon-Ruthor laughed softly and increased his efforts, the predator immediately attacking at the scent of blood. He was going to get me one way or the other, and he damned well knew it.
It didn’t take long before I was hanging onto the back of his shirt with trembling fists, my face against his shoulder, my eyes closed again. I had to remember not to let Bellna take over, remember not to break the role of peasant girl, and remember not to react the way an experienced woman would, all while being subjected to the close attention of a man who knew his way around a woman’s body a hell of a lot better than any Tildorani would have. I was somehow managing to do everything I had to, but only if you don’t count breathing normally as part of everything. I may be fairly capable in my chosen line of work, but I’m still human; I wanted to stroke Grigon’s body the way he stroked mine, kiss his face softly to tell him I was ready to move on to better things. I wanted to begin opening his shirt as he ran his hands over me – but that wasn’t what he wanted, or Bellna either. She didn’t understand the strange feelings assaulting her, and she feared them; Grigon understood only too well, and wasn’t about to let up.
“You may begin to undo the clothing of a lady,” he said in Ruthor’s lazy tones, making no effort to hide the growing slur in his voice.
“Should the sight of your body please me, you may well find yourself ravaged without mercy.”
I almost gasped at the throbbing wave of fear coursing through me, finding it necessary to sit still for a brief moment before pushing away from his chest. Grigon was now conducting an attack on two fronts, trying to prod Bellna and me both at the same time. If I wanted what I needed, and also wanted to keep from breaking my role I had to listen to him, but if I did as he said Bellna would surely become even more violent than she had been. She knew he was hardly likely tQ dislike her body, and the panic was already begmm to set in. I forced myself to raise my hands to the buttons on the front of my dress, feeling my cheeks flame with Bellna’s embarrassment, finding it impossible to sit still in the face of Grigon’s toying, biting my lip to show the consternation of a very young peasant girl.
I felt as though I were three people and briefly, dizzyingly, couldn’t remember which of the three was supposed to show. The buttons fought my fingers the way every-thing on that planet was fighting me, and hot, fat tears began to roll down my cheek, courtesy of Bellna’s fright and misery.
“Does your clumsiness distress you, little one?” GrigonRuthor asked with oh-so-much concern in his voice, finally taking his hand away from me. “You attempt to obey me., yet find yourself unable to do so.
It is clear I must assist you.”
His hands came to mine to push them gently away, and then he tackled the buttons. He wet his lips with pleased anticipation as he undid them, but his expression changed-abruptly when the opened buttons showed nothing but the silken under dress I hadn’t been able to get out of wearing. He was so obviously disappointed that nothing sexy showed that his expression was downright comical. Under normal circumstances I might have smiled to myself and saved the snicker for a private time, but those circumstances were far from normal. Bellna was a little girl, and so was the peasant girl of my role; the two of them combined and giggled aloud in relief.
“You dare to laugh at me?” Grigon-Ruthor thundered, his frown widening my eyes above the hand I’d hastily clapped over my mouth.
“You dare to find amusement in the doings of your lord?”
I was about to assure him very sincerely that I hadn’t been laughing, and especially not at him, when he interrupted the intention in the most direct way possible. His hands took the blue velvet dress I was wearing and ripped it open, then did the same to the white silk under dress. Bellna’s shock coursed through me as he threw me off his lap to the floor, the disbelief intensifying as I hit hard. I’d been able to cushion the jolt a little by using my hands, but the ruined material of dress and under dress had been pushed down onto my arms, tying me into what was left of once-elegant clothing. My left hip got the worst of it, but one benefit came out of the unpleasant episode: the presence in my mind was so shocked that it went speechless and motionless, leaving me free to show appropriate fear and repentance when Grigon-Ruthor went down to one knee and pulled me back toward him.
“Insolence is punished as ever it will be, girl,” he told me coldly, half-kneeling above me. “Do you continue to feel amusement?”
“I feel only the desire to serve you, Lord!” I quavered, looking up at him with none of the growl I felt inside me. I wanted to serve him, all right, but that sort of serving would have to wait-until I won.
“You need not fear,” he said, reaching out to touch one of my now-exposed breasts. “You will do exactly that. Get to your feet.”
He stood straight and watched me struggle around until I could rise, holding the pieces of dress and under dress to keep them from falling off me. I knew he wanted me stripped, but he wanted it done at his own pace, and wouldn’t appreciate being anticipated. When I was standing in front of him he reached out and ripped everything the rest of the way, then stepped back a pace to study me.
“Unexpected largesse,” he murmured, looking at me with the most intrusive stare he could manage. “More than I had anticipated-yet without the hint of a blush. Are you other than the innocent I thought you to be?”
“I am frightened, Lord,” I whispered, cursing myself for forgetting such an important detail. I had expected Bellna’s embarrassment to do the job for me, and when it didn’t I hadn’t been bright enough to take over. “If you wish it I will attempt to do other than feel fear, and yet.
“Still your tongue,” he interrupted irritably, gesturing with one hand. “I want no further words from you. Rid yourself of those rags, and take yourself to my bed.”
I got my wrists loose from the dress sleeves and let the “rags” fall to the floor, then let my hesitation and reluctance show as I hurried toward the curtained bed. Despite the fact that I knew I’d never sleep without a good deal of soothing, I did feel reluctant at the thought of sharing Grigon’s bed. He wasn’t likely to do anything for me without indulging in a little more torture first, and whatever he did do would be tempered by the way I’d been changed to match Bellna.
I wasn’t afraid of the man, but wary wouldn’t be a word too far from the mark.
Grigon waited until I’d parted the curtains, groped to find the covers, then slipped under them before following me over. I was just beginning to feel safe and snug in the darkness when the curtains were jerked aside as far as they would go, and Grigon’s darkened form moved toward the head of the bed. I heard him reaching around, then heard a rattle and a scrape. A spark flared bright in the darkness, catching immediately on the slim piece of wood it had flared near, and from that slim piece of wood a candle on the narrow shelf above the bed was lit. Grigon blew out the flame on the piece of wood and set it back in its place, and then he was ready for other things.
“I dislike being unable to see what I am about,” he said, moving back to the curtain opening at the side of the bed. “Were you given permission to hide yourself beneath those covers?”
“No, Lord,” I whispered, throwing the covers away as though they were hot. “I meant no disobedience; Lord. I ask your forgiveness, Lord.”
“Enough,” he said, pulling his shirt out of his pants and then hauling it off over his head. “I had thought it clear that I wished no more of your chatter. I see you must be silenced by other means.”
I watched him pull his boots off and then tackle his pants, his broad, hair-covered chest more of a distraction than it should have been. He had something else in mind for me, something I was not likely to enjoy, but my mind insisted on watching him with wide-eyed interest as he got down to the buff. He was certainly well made as a man, a fact sitting in his lap had only hinted at. His degree of arousal would have had some men pawing at the ground and demanding to get on with working it off, but Grigon acted as though he had all the time in the world. he tossed his pants to one side with a careless gesture, smiled faintly when he saw my eyes on him, then moved closer to stand over me.
“You will lie flat so that I may examine you at my leisure,” he said in his Ruthor voice, leaning down to shove me partway across the bed so that he might climb in himself. The bed linen wasn’t linen but silk, and he had seen to it that I’d warmed a place for him. “Should I hear a single sound from you, you will be punished. Have I made myself clear?”
I bobbed my head spasmodically, giving him a wide-eyed stare filled with the apprehension of innocence. Bellna was bewildered in the shock she was still suffering from and so was my role character; I, unfortunately, could now guess at what he was up to. he sat next to me where I lay and looked down at me, the faint smile on his face touched with a hint of true amusement as his big hand came to stroke gently at my middle. I’d never be able to take his “examination”
without making some kind of a sound, not in the face of the sort of expertise he’d shown earlier. He was going to use that as an excuse to “punish” me, but maybe being forewarned would be enough to let me hold out. His stroking right hand came to slide over my breast, two of his fingers catching the nipple between them and squeezing gently; I was able to keep the gasp from coming out even though my mouth opened, but I quickly changed my mind. Being forewarned wasn’t going to do me a damn bit of good, at least as far as holding out went.
Maybe I could do something with it afterward.
Surprisingly enough, “afterward” took a while to arrive.
Grigon worked on me slowly and deliberately, rekindling the blaze he had started earlier and building on it. His hands and lips went everywhere, touching, tasting, arousing, driving me more insane with every minute that passed. I held the light blue silk clenched in my fists as I twisted and writhed, barely aware of the still-frightened child behind my eyes, totally consumed by the needs of my body. I felt his hands like metal on my thighs, holding them apart and raising me from the bed; I felt his breath, blown gently from between his lips; when his tongue touched me I threw my head back and screamed, completely beyond thinking and caring. That was what Grigon had been waiting for, of course, and the open-handed slap that made my ears ring brought me back and told me I’d lost the round.
“Again you disobey!” Grigon-Ruthor snarled, his second slap blurring my vision and bringing tears to my eyes.. “Go and fetch my belt, at once!”
Teary-eyed and trembling I backed away from him, then slid off the bed to do as he’d ordered. Control! I told myself with held-off desperation, feeling the blubbering fear pour through me as I groped in the shadows on my knees for Grigon’s belt. It was lying half covered by his pants, as though it had been set in place in anticipation of use, which of course it had been. I picked up the soft but heavy leather in trembling hands and held it to me, still not knowing whether or not I could go through with it. I had a thing about being beaten that stemmed from a very unpleasant experience during one of my assignments, and I didn’t know whether or not I could hold still for being beaten by Grigon. I rose to my feet again, still clutching the belt, and hurried back to the bed through the chill of the room. One way or another, my question was about to be answered.
Grigon-Ruthor sat waiting for me on the bed, the small candle above throwing shadows all about as I climbed over his legs. The tears were still running down my cheeks as I reached the belt out toward him with both hands, and for a minute his eyes met mine. That I knew he was going to beat me must have been clear to see; as he took the belt a peculiar expression flickered across his face. He glanced at the trembling in my hands, the hopelessness my face must have been covered with, the roundness of defeat in my shoulders, and suddenly there was a different decision in his eyes.
“Such youthful innocence,” he murmured, reaching a hand out to touch my face. “That there are men who find pleasure in destroying such freshness and beauty has never failed to infuriate me. I am no longer able to continue with this. Come to my arms, child.”
I watched him throw the belt away but didn’t really understand; not until be had taken me in his arms and raised my face for his kiss. He had spoken in his own voice, not that of Ruthor, and the game seemed to be over. I say seemed to be because he was still speaking in the Tildorani tongue, and he had begun to caress me again. I tested his truthfulness with a small moan and got nothing but a murmur in response, but the burning in my cheeks where he had slapped me worked to keep me skeptical. I might have won the game already, but there was no sense in not making sure.
Grigon’s kiss was long and tender, and by the time it was over I lay in his arms with both of us horizontal rather than vertical. His hands moved over me with gentleness that surprised and startled the guest behind my eyes, and did something more than that: it also aroused her. How that could be possible I hadn’t the faintest idea, but if a glandular emotion like anger or embarrassment was possible for her, why not arousal? The only possibility I could think of was that she was using my body as an emotion-receptor, and with her diminished fear came awareness of other sensations. Whatever it was, I was suddenly gripped by arousal out of control, the sort that’s usually channeled and used through knowledge and experience tQ