He’d quickly sent them away and determined to avoid the matter of a harem for a while. After all, he had a kingdom to get in order and no experience leading anything other than an army.
His time at war came back to him in crisp detail. The only thing that lay before him now was the mission. And the mission was keeping his new prize safe. Most of the court and the kingdom would fall in line on his say-so, even if they didn’t like it and gossiped privately amongst themselves. But there could still be open resistance. Part of him hoped for the opportunity to take a swift and firm stand.
When he’d awakened that morning and glanced over at his slave’s sleeping form, he’d known he’d made a good choice. Far from his tiredness overemphasizing her beauty the night before, it had diminished it. She was even lovelier in the light of morning than he’d thought. And her small, warm body pressed trustingly next to his had given him the best night’s rest of his life, not to mention the perfect way they had fit together when he’d taken her for the first time.
His thoughts drifted to the spanking. Though he wanted to show her kindness, he wouldn’t allow his slave to mistake it for weakness. She needed to understand she would obey his requests the first time every time, no exceptions. Hesitation or refusal would earn her punishment of whatever nature he desired. The sooner she learned, the more smoothly their relationship would go.
He’d cleared the court for his early morning business. He’d had her family brought in soon after sunrise and fed a hearty breakfast before being brought in to see him. If Abigail’s state of malnourishment was any indication, they’d be too hungry to properly hear him otherwise.
The family was ushered in, their faces painted with apprehension, despite the fullness of their stomachs. With the mother and father were two young boys, perhaps around eight or nine—twins from the look of it—a girl that was only a few years younger than Abigail, and a female toddler.
Most of the children had their gypsy father’s swarthy looks with dark complexion and hair, but the youngest girl was blonde and fair like her mother. Everyone but the toddler bowed appropriately. Instead of bowing, the youngest girl gave him a toothy grin, not having the faintest notion of who he was, nor caring. She’d just had roast pork and eggs and biscuits with gravy for breakfast, so in her eyes, he was her friend. He hoped the rest of the family would feel that way soon enough.
“Please don’t look so anxious,” Niall said. He wasn’t sure why it bothered him to see Abigail’s family looking at him with such abject terror. He could understand why they might fear being brought in to see the king given the history of attacks on their kind by his father. “If I’d intended to harm you, would I have fed you first?”
The features on the adults’ faces seemed to relax by a small measure, acknowledging the logic therein.
Niall didn’t waste any time. “I’m giving you a house and land. It’s fifteen bedrooms, a parlor, a kitchen, a dining room, a ballroom, three bathrooms, and a conservatory, as well as a large and gracious entry hall. There is a well-kept garden in the back and stables with horses. Your servants will greet you when you arrive and take care of anything you need. The land is thirty-two acres. You’ll also be given a generous allowance to take care of any expenses for the house, food, clothing, and whatever else you care to purchase.”
The family stared at him for a moment, their eyes a little unfocused. It was as if the king had dropped a boulder on their heads instead of giving them a generous gift.
“Traditionally, ‘Thank you, Your Majesty,’ is the proper reply,” the king said.
“But, Your Majesty, why?” The father looked at him as if he wasn’t quite sure it was all real and that he wasn’t still asleep.
The doors at the back of the room opened, and Abigail entered in the green-jeweled slave garment. Her hair had been piled up and pinned on the top of her head like a Greek goddess.
Niall took a deep breath at the sight of her and adjusted his clothing so he wouldn’t look like an uncontrolled teenage boy getting his first taste of pussy. No one had ever looked so radiant in beads and jewels. The green made her eyes even more spectacular, and her dark, olive skin made the jewels seem to sparkle even brighter in contrast.
Abigail had excellent timing. He gestured for her with a flick of his fingers. She didn’t make eye contact with her family as she walked up to him. Niall found that a little odd but made no comment. He snapped and pointed at the cushion beside his feet, and she knelt.
He stroked the back of her neck languidly. “Because Abigail is mine, and so I’ve chosen to make sure her family is well cared for.”
The father’s face went dark. “I don’t care who you are. If you think we’ll live in luxury as payment for our daughter whoring herself out to you, you don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
Well, that was unexpected.
“Emilian, don’t,” his wife begged.
“You should listen to her,” Niall said calmly, still stroking Abigail’s skin. The muscles in her neck and shoulders had tensed considerably in the past few seconds. He was glad he’d chosen to do this part privately. If he had to make an example of someone, he didn’t want it to have to be a member of her family.
“And just so matters are clear,” Niall continued, “you aren’t being paid for prostituting your daughter. She wasn’t given a choice. She was caught stealing bread to feed you. Would you have preferred that I sent her back to you relieved of one of her hands? No one steals from me and walks free without paying a price. This is her price.”
Emilian’s eyes hadn’t softened. If possible they’d become sharper. There was murder in his gaze. If the king had been anybody else and hadn’t been surrounded by guards, he imagined he’d already be on the floor in a pool of his own blood.
“It would be better than her shaming the family as a whore,” the father said. “You may think gypsies are that way, but you know nothing. It is not how I raised my daughter to be.”
“Emilian!” the wife hissed, her eyes filling with increasing terror.
Niall could hear Abigail’s quiet crying, and almost regretted bringing her in for this. He hadn’t guessed it would play out this way. Typically, it was an honor to be brought into the king’s harem, not an insult. This was especially true of the woman chosen first, whose status was hardly different than that of a queen in other kingdoms.
Most queens were little more than slaves when you thought about it. As long as there existed a king, her power was whatever he indulged her with. Was honesty in labels not a better thing than polite lies? He’d always been proud that Himeros was open and free in ways other kingdoms weren’t, that citizens were able to partake in and enjoy the pleasures of the flesh without irrational guilt or shame coming over them.
“I’m sorry you feel that way, but your daughter hasn’t
whored herself
as you so tactfully put it. This is the highest position for a woman in this kingdom. It will result in an heir that is part gypsy. It will end the feuding. She didn’t choose this. I did. She is my property with absolutely no say in the matter. So if you want to be angry with someone, be angry with me, but be careful with how you express it. I’m still the king and who you are to her is the only reason you aren’t in the dungeon. I’m giving you
all this because it’s proper and because I can’t allow my slave’s family to starve. It wouldn’t be right. You will be escorted to your new dwelling and a tailor and seamstress will be at your disposal by this afternoon. Don’t come to court or the castle again without an invitation, for your sake as well as your daughter’s. And when you
are
invited, I suggest you conduct yourself more cordially.”
Niall waved a hand, the doors opened, and the family was escorted out. When he was alone with Abigail, the king made eye contact with the head guard. “Leave us and allow no one in.”
John arched a brow but bowed and led the men out into the hallway.
***
Abigail tensed, fearing some sort of punishment was coming, though she couldn’t figure out what she could have done to offend the king.
He patted the chaise beside him. “Come, sit and talk with me.”
With his help, she rose from the cushion and moved to where he’d directed her. The throne room was different than that of many kingdoms. Most had two thrones: a large one for the king and a smaller one for the queen. In Himeros, there was only one throne. It had one armrest instead of two. On the right, the space where the armrest would have been was open, and attached to the throne was a chaise upon which the most favored slave—or the most favored slave of the moment—reclined, her head resting on the king’s lap.
Abigail lay across the chaise, relaxing only when his fingers threaded soothingly through her hair. He didn’t seem angry with her. Still, she didn’t understand why he’d make her suffer through her family’s visit.
“Tell me what all that was about. Why would your family react that way? Why wouldn’t they be honored that I chose you? For god’s sake, I didn’t just choose you, I took you first. Possibly exclusively. Most parents would be effusive with their gratitude and pride.”
“We’re not that way,” she said quietly, still afraid of enraging the king. “Are you going to get rid of me?”
“Of course not. You’re mine whether your family approves or not. I’m just trying to understand.”
She’d always known Himeros was a permissive society, at least from the time she’d finally figured out what slave girls did. The kingdom was known for its perversions, and tended to attract travelers and foreign leaders who wanted to get away from the repressive propriety of their own kingdoms. All the feasts and festivals were orgies after dark for the adults that remained.
“When my father and mother married, he was shut off from the tribe. The gypsies stay on the fringes. I guess they’re always assumed to be laid back with regards to sexuality, but they’re pretty private. And they aren’t welcome in the culture, anyway, so there isn’t much exposure to it. Because my father was shut off from the tribe and my mother was cut off from everyone else, we’ve been outcasts from both groups. I’ve been raised to see everything that happens in court as dirty and immoral. There is no way my family can ever see things in the same way others in the kingdom do. I’m not even sure if I can. We have a sense of modesty you don’t have—and maybe can’t even comprehend.”
There was a bit of an edge to the king’s voice when he replied, an edge Abigail wished she could erase. “If our ways disgust you so much, why hasn’t your family packed up and moved elsewhere?”
“It’s not so easy when you have no money. We can’t just leave. Even if we did, gypsies aren’t welcomed in many other places, either. We’d face the same social problems. I think this was easier for my parents. My father likes being able to look down on something he disapproves of in the people who look down on him. Please don’t be angry with me. I can’t help how I was raised. They can’t help that they were shut off from everyone. How can you begin to understand a culture that pushes you out? Of course we’d react differently.”
“And do you hold the same extreme feelings of disgust toward our ways?”
She didn’t say anything. It felt too exposing to be draped across his lap in a slave garment with his guards standing just outside. If she’d been wearing something else or had been in a different setting, perhaps it wouldn’t be so uncomfortable, but she felt foolish being here, dressed like this, when she didn’t fit into their ways at all. She felt like a ridiculous prude in his presence and thought he must think the same thing.
Secretly, Abigail had considered the permissiveness of Himeros to be liberating, or at least potentially so. She wished she didn’t understand the concept of shame being linked and mixed with sex. She wished she could erase her upbringing so she could be as free as the women she’d caught glimpses of as they’d danced for the king.
His hand drifted from her hair to part the strands of beads and jewels. He caressed her bottom, his fingers moving lewdly between her cheeks. He was pushing her buttons, testing her. She squirmed uncomfortably, even though there was no one to see the exchange.
“I’m not letting you go. I don’t care how you were raised. You’ll learn,” he said.
Her breath hitched in her throat as he touched her. It was as if her body had lain dormant, waiting for the right man to come along and awaken her to her erotic potential. Every touch, every caress, no matter how lewd or invasive heated her from somewhere deep within. She wondered if he’d share her with visiting nobles as was custom. The thought made her heart thump hard in her chest, and she prayed he’d show her mercy when men started asking for her, even though a part of her grew wet over the idea.
Finally he stopped fingering her. “Sit up.”
Abigail obeyed the order, afraid of what might be coming next, but he simply gathered her in his arms, adjusting her so she sat on his lap. Then he guided her head to rest on his shoulder and held her, rubbing her back.
“You will be exquisite. I’ll train you, and in time this shyness and discomfort will go away. Your wishes will not factor into my choices, however, I want to know where you are right now. If it’s possible, do you want me to take your inhibitions away?”
With her face pressed against the king’s neck, she felt safer. “Yes, Master.”
“Have you always had these feelings of discomfort and repulsion about our ways?”
She knew he felt her head shake against his shoulder. But for some reason she felt compelled to explain her reply. “When I was little, I wanted to grow up and be one of the king’s harem. I didn’t know what a harem was then. I just knew I thought they were beautiful and free, and I wanted to feel like that. But my father got angry and yelled at me when I said something about it. He told me those women were bad people, and it was shameful to want to be like them. So I pushed the feelings away because I didn’t want to be bad.”
“Oh, Abby,” he said, sighing.
It felt like the world stopped while he held her, everything pausing in that sad sigh. She wished they could stay like this forever, alone in this room away from everyone, but too soon a knock interrupted the private moment of sanctuary.