Slavemaster's Woman, The (7 page)

There was no reaction from her.

“Pleasant,” Tarken said.

There
—a slight twitch in her right
eyelid, the movement so minute, it could’ve been easily missed. The
lovely, little slave was well-practiced at hiding her feelings.

Determined to learn every nuance in her
face, understand what every posture meant, no matter how slight,
Tarken watched carefully as he brushed his finger along his lips
before his tongue slipped through to taste it. “Your juice is very
sweet, pretty woman.”

Cushla’s lip quivered ever so slightly, and
he felt the muscles of her inner thighs tightened briefly. She was
affected, Tarken was sure. Eventually, he would be familiar with
everything about her and that would give him the upper hand. Cushla
would be trained and submissive before she even knew he had control
of her.

Rolling quickly, Tarken maneuvered into a
sitting position, sweeping Cushla into his lap in the process. She
yelped at the unexpected movement. Tarken wrapped his arms firmly
around her, crushing her tightly against him. Giving her no time to
react further, his head lowered, and seized her mouth, kissing her
roughly almost desperately at first, but slowing to a more
passionate kiss. Why he did such a thing, Tarken couldn’t fathom.
He rarely kissed slaves—rarely kissed any woman. When he did, it
was to explore the slave’s skill at the task, but this wasn’t an
exploration. For some unknown reason, he felt anxious to taste
Cushla’s lips.

Odd.
Despite her body’s rigid
protest, he was enjoying the kiss.

Tarken would examine his reaction later. For
now, he wanted to know more about this intriguing
woman...
slave,
Tarken reminded himself as his lips slid over
hers. Cushla belonged to the king. He was only sent to train and
deliver her. For a fleeting moment there was regret in his heart,
but the callousness he learned to hide behind surfaced.

All other sentiments were immediately gone,
and Tarken focused fully on the woman, deepening the kiss by
skimming his tongue along the crease of her lips. He heard Cushla
sigh and watched her lids drift shut. Her body softened, molding
comfortably in his arms, and her mouth now more pliable, parted
slightly. Taking advantage of her submission, Tarken dipped his
tongue inside, finding her tongue and tasting her thoroughly.

By sacred misgivings!
Her taste was
so sensuous, her scent so arousing.

His hand skimmed down the side of her body,
and he cupped her mound. The skin there was smooth, warm and soft.
He wondered if Cushla was naturally hairless there or if her muff
was artificially made to be that way. Sliding his finger between
the swell of her flesh, Tarken felt Cushla twitch. There was no
resistance this time as he began to flick the hood of her clit over
and over again. Instead, her legs were slightly parted, inviting
him to coax her arousal, encouraging Tarken to explore her
sexuality further.

Cushla moaned when his mouth left hers and
he skimmed his lips down the length of her body, stopping first at
her breasts to lick and suck one nipple and then the other before
moving on to kiss her stomach. His fingers, first one then two
delved in and out of her, his thumb rubbing the swollen nub that he
suspected so few of her owners cared to consider.

With him, Cushla would learn differently. He
would show her what a real man was about. The lovely, little slave
girl would learn to be compliant, particularly to those who sought
her sensuality. After all, it was often a man—an owner’s pleasure
to watch a woman peak with ecstasy as much as it was to experience
his own. It was a thing for her to enjoy, not flee from.

With a smile of satisfaction, Tarken felt
Cushla arching her back. Her hips began to move and the muscles
inside of her vagina tensed before her juices flooded his fingers.
He lifted his head to enjoy the bliss in Cushla’s expression. Her
eyes were closed, her mouth slightly parted, and she was panting
softly.

“Yes, Cushla,” Tarken whispered. “It feels
good, doesn’t it?” Again, he lowered his head intent on sucking a
breast into his mouth once more.

“No!” Cushla Shrieked.

Blinding light filled Tarken’s vision.
Belatedly, he felt the pain of the fist that slammed into his left
temple.”Fucking fires of hell, woman!”

Cushla heeled his groin as she scrambled
from his lap.

Before Tarken could fully regain his senses,
a bottle of spirits flew over his head, crashing against the wall
behind him. He slowly rose to his feet, blinking the stars from his
vision, and caught a glimpse of yet another projectile heading in
his direction. He ducked just in the nick of time.

* * * *

“The king is a tight wad,” Scoac looked down
at the female’s head, bobbing between his legs. He was seated on
the bed in his room, watching her dutifully sucking his cock. He
groaned. “Yes Ayia, faster.”

“Why would you say such a thing?” Rube asked
as he stroked into the servant’s cunt from behind.

They heard glass shattering in the chamber
next door, and what sounded like the slavemaster cursing.

“The slavemaster gets a room to himself
while here we are...” Scoac paused to watch the girl’s tongue swirl
around the head of his shaft. “...sharing everything. Suck Ayia,
don’t play.”

They ignored the heavy thud that shook the
wall separating them from the slavemaster’s room. Tarken was
probably beating the wench.

“Tarken has the slave to deal with,
brother,” Rube replied slamming harder into the girl, causing her
mouth to slip away from Scoac’s groin. “Besides we have the king’s
directives to adhere to, and this makes passing information to each
other easier and less conspicuous.”

Something crashed in the slavemaster’s room.
There was more cursing and a number of thuds.

Ayia smiled brightly as she glanced up at
the royal. “Who is this king you’re talking about?”

With obvious irritation, Scoac grabbed the
back of the girl’s head, bunching a tuft of hair in his fist and
yanked her head back. “You speak only when asked to, wench.” He
molded his hand around his cock and shoved it back into her mouth.
“Right now, I want your mouth full.”

Their conversation died as both royals began
to climax, Scoac’s pumping into Ayia’s mouth, Rube’s breathing was
rapid and harsh as his cock stiffened to its fullest and his
strokes inside her cunt became shorter and swifter. They both
growled out as they came one within a light flash of the other.

A woman’s shriek from the other side of the
wall was followed by another crash and then the sound of something
tumbling.

Rube pulled out of Ayia, while Scoac rubbed
the head of his cock along her lips.

“Go clean up girl,” Scoac told her. “You can
sleep here in this room this eve, on the floor in the corner. We
may want to fuck you later.” He watched the girl disappear into the
bathing room before turning to Rube. “We’ll have to check the slave
for the mark of course. No sense in angering the king by delivering
the wrong girl.”

“We could just ask the slavemaster if she
bears a mark.”

“Brilliant.” Scoac rolled his eyes
sarcastically. “Why didn’t I think of that? We’ll just walk up to
him and ask if his slave has a birthmark on her ass.”

“Seems simple enough to me,” Rube
responded.

“Yes, and sure enough to draw his suspicion.
The man is not an idiot.”

Rube rubbed his jaw. “I see your point. His
Majesty made it quite clear that Tarken was to know nothing. Yet
what does it matter? We’re instructed to kill him anyway if the
need be.”

Chapter Six

Cushla was glaring at Tarken but she was
more upset with herself. Through her lust-driven haze, Cushla had
felt his mouth on her breasts. His fingers played with her pussy,
and she felt herself becoming very wet between her legs.
Mindlessness suddenly turned to sensibility as Cushla’s rational
brain forced its way in. She was being compliant, submitting to his
will, betraying her personal values. Her body was betraying her
will!

And even worse than that, she liked it!

She couldn’t. “No!”

Anger reared inside of her, competing for
space with the foreign sensation and confusion. Cushla knew she
wouldn’t compromise what she fought so long to hold on to. She
scampered away from him, backward and across the floor. Drawing up
her knees, she wrapped her arms around them, studying her new
slavemaster with awe and disbelief. “What did you do to me?”

She watched as he released and exasperated
breath and raked his fingers through his hair.

Why wasn’t she repulsed by the way he
touched her? It would make fighting him so much easier. Thoughts of
what he could do to her in bed…sent her mind racing and her blood
pumping hot. Moisture seeped from between her legs again.

“You behave like a skittish virgin Cushla,
when I know you are not.” Tarken grunted the words as he wrinkled
his forehead, wincing at the residual pain. He stood slowly, and
then pressed a palm against the wall to steady his body on his
feet. “Explain this.”

“Dignity,” Cushla responded with little
intonation in her voice. She also pushed to a stand. Her legs were
wobbly. Was it from the fight or his lips? She didn’t want to
consider which right now.

He stared at her, saying nothing.

Boldly, she faced him and then noticed her
cloak was gone. She was completely naked. A quick glance around the
room and Cushla located the garment. It was bunched up on the
floor. When had the slavemaster taken it off?

It didn’t matter.

The scanty garment didn’t hide anything
anyway. Her attention returned to Tarken. He was smirking. There
was a gleam in his eyes that Cushla was unable to interpret. It
could be lust, but equally it could be his arrogance of her present
helplessness. Was he considering her punishment? The slavemaster
wasn’t jesting when he claimed he didn’t anger easily. After what
she’d just done other trainers and owners alike would certainly
have either activated the slave band, or be endlessly beating
her.

“Your cheeks are flushed.” Tarken’s gaze
dropped.

Her chest was heaving—she was short of
breath.

His eyes fixated on that part of her, and he
seemed to become engrossed by how her breasts rose and fell with
her heaving breaths.

No…
he was fixating on her nipples.
They were hard and protruding, and Cushla wanted to cross her arms
to hide them but stood her ground, determined to mask the
vulnerability she felt. Her arms remained firmly pinned to her
sides, though her hands were firmly clenched into fists, her nails
digging almost painfully into her palms.

“Are you aroused or angry, Cushla?”

Cushla refused to answer.
Let him
guess!

Her silence drew Tarken’s attention back to
her face and he stared at her unblinkingly and waited for her to
answer.

She said nothing.

“Since you refuse to respond, I’ll draw my
own conclusions and assume that you want to get laid.” Tarken
walked toward the bed and threw off the covers. “As do I. Now lie
down and spread your legs.”

Of course…she refused to comply.

“You’ll find nothing but pleasure in my bed,
Cushla.”

A small span of silence followed, and then
Cushla answered, “Intercourse is never a pleasure.”

Tarken angled his head slightly to one side
and again, studied her for a moment. He then paced to one side of
the room. Putting his back toward her, he appeared to pay interest
to a tapestry that hung on the wall in front of him. “Is it
painful? I know that it can be for some women, even when they do
try to enjoy it.”

Cushla inhaled heavily, and then exhaled the
breath just as slowly as she had drawn it in. “Psychological,
physical, it matters not. It’s invasive to have a man force his way
inside of me when I have no desire for it.”

The slavemaster turned quickly, and without
knowing his intent Cushla’s body tensed defensively. But when he
merely tilted his head at an inquisitive angle and without moving
toward her, she stared at him briefly and then continued, “I’ve
never had the desire. So yes, it’s painful, but not in a way that
you would even take a care to understand.”

Why was she compelled to tell him all of
this? It wasn’t as if she expected any mercy from the slavemaster.
Aside from that, she’d never known any man to forgo his lust for
the sake of sympathy, particularly with a slave. And this
slavemaster most definitely was feeling lust if the elongated bulge
molded by his trousers was any indication.

He was definitely hard.

And thick.

More than ready to sink inside of her and
stroke slowly…
in and out, in and out and…

“Is this why you’re staring at my cock so
ardently, because you’re afraid of it?”

Stars!
Was she admiring his—hell pits
no! Cushla’s sight snapped upward at his words.

He was smirking at her.

Was he suggesting she was eager for it?
Am I?
She went rigid from head toe. “I fear no man.” Her
eyes dropped to his groin. She did
not
desire him. “Or
malicious serpent.” When she realized where she was again staring,
Cushla’s attention immediately reverted, returning to his face.

Amusement sparkled Tarken's eyes. “Perhaps
once you and the malicious serpent have become acquainted, you’ll
change your mind.”

His playful response encouraged Cushla to
relax a bit. A smile attempted to force its way onto her lips—but
no! She would not trust him. He hadn’t earned that from her
yet.

Yet?
No, she meant he would
never
earn it. “Only a fool would trust a snake.”

“You do realize, Cushla that your status as
a slave nullifies your right to trust.” Tarken crossed one arm over
the other, his expression matter-of-fact. “No master or owner will
care if you do or don’t. You only serve a purpose, whether for
labor or as a bed mate or whatever else you owner wishes to use you
for. You’re a piece of property.”