She was the very picture of temptation, her flesh soft and flushed from her brief nap, her brown hair a tangle around her face. Her pert breasts were bruised and swollen; her belly wore the imprint of his fingers. Even in the leather harness she wore with a phallus protruding from her cunt, she resembled an angel.
She raised her big brown eyes to him. “How might I convince you to stay?”
He was naked, and there was no place to hide his captivation with her, not with his cock rising and bludgeoning the air. His defenselessness angered him.
“Bend over,” he said hoarsely.
When her fingers touched the rush-covered floor, he inched behind her, still trying to leave but unable to go.
He grabbed hold of her hair like a steed’s reins and bucked into her rounded buttocks for what he promised would be his last time that eve, his ejaculate released in a hot stream that went on and on.
What good fortune had been his to stumble upon her at Lord Harold’s that day. The first time he had ever been alone with a partner and he had found himself a dream come true in her. Christ, but she was an amazing little mare. Well trained and sweet-natured and willing. Oh so willing. Willing to do anything. He had never had a better ride.
He deeply hated to end their carnal marathon, but a man must recover…
From somewhere, Spur found the necessary strength to pull out. But deprivation clutched at his stones even as his seed streamed out of her arse and dribbled down her legs.
Mitri said naught, and neither did he. Content to massage her perspiration-dotted rump, as he would with a mare, he petted her whilst she recovered. After a time, when her tremors ceased, he helped her to a stand and then installed the anal plug.
He would leave. This time, he would be able to depart. A man must have some time alone. Restoring a semblance of sanity between them was all for the good.
Despite the best of intentions, he heard himself say, “Come with me to the bathing pool.”
He’d have her again, sodomize her, if he did not find a means to break her hold on him. What was worse, he might spout some sentimental dross about how he could not live without her. Even if he said naught, she might still read devotion in his eyes.
Nevertheless, needing to see her face, he swiveled her around.
Her gaze was downcast. She was shamed, most likely, by her uninhibited response to him.
“The hour is late,” he said matter-of-factly and climbed into his braies for the trip downstairs. “No one patrols these halls save my personal guards. They will not even blink to see us together,”
“Easy for you to say. You are clad.”
“’Twould be unseemly if I were not. You, on the other hand, are…”
“A whore, and so I have no significance.”
She did to him, and that was a dire problem. Nevertheless, her downcast expression did him in, and he admitted, “You mean a great deal to me. I have never had a woman all to myself. You are the first.”
“Should I feel honored?”
“Feel as you will. I am merely telling you the truth. And I was about to say, you are lovely as you are, naked and with my seed telling one and all that you belong to me. But I do understand your indignation—”
“You cannot because you are not a woman.”
“Mitri—you are not without power here.”
“My only power lies in self-denial.”
“What mean you?”
“My leaving you is my only power. And leaving you denies me.”
“Of what, pray? I have told you time and time again that you will not leave here empty-handed.”
“Nay, only empty-hearted for I leave here without you. You are what is denied me. Think me so shallow as to not suffer your loss? No amount of gold will fill the hole your absence bores in my chest.”
“Then, by all means, stay.”
“At times, you make the staying past difficult into impossible.”
“Since our return to my keep, I have done naught to hold you in disdain, naught by word or deed have I shown you contempt or scorn. Quite the opposite, I have told you repeatedly how much your body delights me.”
“My body delighting you is not enough.”
“’Tis all I have and more than I have ever given anyone else.”
She looked up at him shyly, from under the sweep of her lashes. “Forgive my petulance, my lord. Verily, you have given me much. You have believed in me and in my innocence in the crime of treason where others might not have done so.” She shook her head. “And this is how I repay you! Like a fishwife, I castigate you. You cannot help who you are any more than I can change myself to suit you. I am so grateful that, despite all appearances and with no evidence to the contrary, you accepted my telling of what happened at Lord Harold’s estate on faith.”
Not quite. He’d had good reason to believe she was telling the truth. But he owed her no explanation there. He’d done what he’d had to do to assure his people remained safe. And he never divulged his methods. Not to her. Not to anyone. This was warfare, and spies lurked everywhere. Even in the beguiling form of this tempting seductress, who would leave him and go on to make her fortune on the cocks of who knew how many other men. He was her first, but most assuredly, he would not be her last.
“Furthermore,” she continued, “you have not done anything I have not allowed.”
“Nor will I,” he said stoutly. “On that, you have my solemn word. I prize the time we have had together, and I would have it continue. I would like to think you have enjoyed your days with me as well.”
“I have, my lord. Very much so. That last bout was extremely invigorating.”
“You have the aphrodisiac with which I soaked the dildo to thank there.”
After giving her good cause for doing so with his high-handedness, he thought for sure she would take him to task. But nay. She looked down at the Cantonese groin plant unmistakably protruding from her cunt, and exclaimed, “An aphrodisiac, my lord? I had no idea. How wonderfully decadent!”
“Well, then. As we appear to be in accord about the nature of our play, what are we discussing here? The hot baths await us. After your strenuous activity, your bones could surely use a lengthy soak.” He placed a hand atop the small of her back. “Shall we away?”
“Aye.”
A less than enthusiastic assent from a female who had been the very epitome of ardency compelled him to he ask, “Pray, tell me how have I upset you now?”
“You have not upset me. ’Tis only that—being paraded about like this is disconcerting. Until just recently, I was extremely shy.”
“Those days are gone, Mitri. Gone the way of Lord Harold’s holdings. I suggest you embrace the future.” He drew a hand over her distended nipples, back and forth across the crowns, and watched her writhe as a new climax approached. She had always been quick to respond to a touch, be it one of pain or delight, and the aphrodisiac made her more so.
He pushed his own lust aside temporarily, and gave her fair warning. “Mitri—verily, I am taken with you, but ’tis best you know I intend to be a hard taskmaster, regardless of how you bewitch me.”
He kneaded her belly and smiled as she panted. “There is a back staircase, a private route to the baths.”
“There is?” Hope of a reprieve colored her voice.
“Aye. But I would prefer not to use it, as I would enjoy showing you off to my men with the dildo sticking out of your wet slit, with my semen dripping out from the plug between your buttocks, with your nipples as sharp as spear points. Call it a matter of pride, of conceit, but there you have it. Allowing them to see you like this pleases me.”
“I can never return to innocence,” she fretted.
“Would you wish to?” he asked and restored the leash to its rightful place on her leather harness.
Actions speak louder than words, and sometimes a young wench needs convincing.
He placed his hand at the small of her back.
Just that one touch and her pelvis tilted, as if to eagerly receive a lo
ver’s thrust.
And they both had their answers. Brooking no further arguments, he led her to the portal and brought her outside. Before the admiring stares of his personal guards and other assorted vassals who patrolled the halls at night, he brought her down below the keep, to the communal hot springs he ofttimes shared with visiting dignitaries.
She appeared dazed, slumberous even, but still receptive to his attention. When he removed her anal plug, she turned away and presented him with her backside.
He chuckled at her wantonness. Her obedience filled him with pride. “Not yet. After I bathe you.”
“Aye, my lord.”
He removed the dildo from her front and, after stripping off himself, took her hand, guiding her down the stairs into the water, smiling fondly at her gasp of unadulterated pleasure when the warm waters lapped around her upper thighs.
“Feels good, lambkin?”
“Heavenly.”
“Good. I know I have used you hard.”
“I am fit, my lor—”
He hushed her with a finger pressed to her lush lips. “You have no need to hold back the truth. You are sore from overuse. What you need to know is this—I will have you again anyway, sore or not. A man does not inquire over his whore’s health before telling her to bend over and touch the floor. And neither will I make such inquiries of you. If it suits me, I will take you when you have the megrims or when your woman’s time is upon you. Some of your future owners will be less kind.”
“You will be my last owner, so I need not concern myself with the vagaries of other men. I love you, my lord.”
“So say all whores,” he said sadly and began to bathe her.
She remained silent throughout. Her lack of conversation appealed to him just as much as did her chatter. A surprise, how much he enjoyed her companionship.
After he had finished attending to her in the bath, he dried her off with one linen cloth and wrapped her up in another. This had naught to do with any consideration of her modesty, which she must certainly lose before beginning her new occupation, but about her health. He would not have her take a chill on the journey back to his solar.
Once inside his bedchamber, he removed the linen and stood her warmed and yielding body before the wall. After his intimate handling of her in the bath, all her hills and valleys, he knew he would have to take her again as soon as they reached his solar. With that in mind, he had not restored her dildo or anal plug. After oiling her anew, he undid his braies and got out his cock.
“Shall I bend over again, my lord?”
“Nay, simply loosen your legs.”
As he slipped into her buttocks, his every muscle tightening in anticipation of pleasure, he complimented himself on the deal he had struck.
Talon would be most pleased with the little gem he had brought back with him from Lord Harold’s keep.
Chapter Eighteen
“Get up!”
Her master’s order, abrupt and unexpected, startled Mitri. Not, however, enough for her to obey, not after last evening. My, but every part of her ached.
Smack!
No light, playful tap this, the hand that landed heavily on the fullest portion of her already bruised posterior had her cursing him under her breath. Aye, she would do his bidding.
When she was good and ready.
At present, she was determined to return to the dreamless sleep he had so rudely interrupted.
Last eve, no nightmares of flesh burning had plagued her. ’Twas the first restful sleep she had enjoyed since mercenaries had torched her home and changed her life forever. For once, her master was not getting his own way. She was returning to sleep.
“Leave me be,” she shouted.
Smack, smack!
Without looking behind her, she stuck out her tongue.
Too bad about him. Lord Devil might be ready for another serious go-round, but she was not.
Despite his cold words outlining what she might expect from him in the future, the Devil had a very seductive side and his claim on her body had taken her to heaven. More than once. In fact, too many times to count…
And she was turning a repeat down?
Time enough to sleep when they buried her in her grave.
Amenable, though still drowsy after only a brief respite from a night of uninterrupted carnality, she assumed an all-fours positioning on his bed.
“Not that, and not now,” he said brusquely.
She could hardly believe her ears. Apparently something other than her body occupied the nobleman this morn.
Yawning hugely and brushing the hair from her face, she asked, “Then why awaken me?”
“Because garbing yourself in your sleep would prove difficult. I left you lad’s garb at the end of the bed. We are under attack and severely outmanned.”
“Mercenaries?” she asked, guessing. Forgetting her new piercings, she hopped from the bed.
And winced.
“Presumably, ’tis mercenaries,” he answered and steadied her. “And half my men are off at my brother’s keep plowing his fields. I was on my way back from there myself when you and I first met at Lord Harold’s holdings.”
She’d had no idea. “Oh.”
“We reciprocate, Talon and I. At planting time, we lend each other our troops, farmers for the most part when not defending our walls. It goes without saying that I had not thought to be besieged so swiftly.”
No way to hide her discomfort, she collected her attire, each move measured. Their bed sport had left her a tad battered. And the new piercings at her nipples and the one within the folds of her privates burned.
Wincing again, she wiggled into the unfamiliar male tunic. No need to ask why he thought it necessary to disguise her true gender. The fierce warlord must think his remaining militia was in danger of losing this sortie, which meant rape for any surviving women within the barricades.
To the victors go the spoils.
That would be her.
Mitri blanched at the thought of servicing a full battalion of warriors. Though the activities of the prior evening had led her to discover she was in possession of a robust sensuality, she paled at the prospect of what lay ahead of her.
She took a deep breath. “What can I do to help?”
“Pray,” he said grimly.
“At the moment, I prefer something not done on my knees.”
He smiled, a thin substitute for the real thing, which could be breathtaking, she was coming to realize.
She stepped into the hide breeches, wincing a third time as the braies came into contact with the gold ring Lord Devil had inserted through her cunny’s delicate flesh. “Can a message be sent to your brother’s fortress?”
“Ordinarily, aye. But in this instance, I have not a man to spare. The mercenaries burned their way through the thorns.”
“Oh dear. Is that what I smell burning? I thought ’twas a memory from the destruction at Lord Harold’s.”
“Nay. The briars surrounding this keep are ablaze.”
Which meant a dire outcome for the keep.
Fortunately she had a solution to her master’s lack of a spare man. “Give me the message to deliver.”
“You?” he said dubiously.
“Do not doubt me. I can do this.”
“I have never doubted your capacity to do anything. I just never considered—” He shook his head as if to clear it. “Very well. I shall take you to the secret tunnel. Here.” He moved to his chest, took out a signet ring, and handed it to her. “Give this to Talon. He will know what it means.”
Sensual satiation had a way of making time stand still. She had been almost entirely nude for what seemed like weeks, not a matter of only a few days. The garb she had pulled on felt confining, especially after the liberating night of carnal excess she had enjoyed. Nonetheless, in the shake of a lamb’s tail, she was all dressed and ready to go. “Take me to the tunnel.”
The noble warrior took her arm and rushed her along.
“The secret p
assageway comes out at the river,” he advised her. “Under a mounded heap of tree boughs, you will find a reed boat. Have you ever used such a vessel before?”
“Aye. I am good with a paddle,” she replied with newfound confidence. A night pleasing him had done that for her.
“All you need do is stay afloat, and the current will take you to my brother’s demesne. A guard will sight you and escort you posthaste inside the gates—if you show the signet ring. Otherwise—” He slashed a finger across his throat and made a wet, slurpy sound.
Ominous.
“Otherwise, I will be killed,” she said, interpreting his gesture.
“More than likely,” he agreed.
Inside the small garden that he had shown her the day before—it seemed so long ago now—he rolled aside a boulder and pointed to the narrow opening in the stone wall. “Here we are. There is only one passage, and so you will not lose your way.”
Her knocking knees were not reassured. “And at the end?”
“Is another boulder. Put your shoulder to it. A child could move the rock aside.”
And she was no child, but a woman.
Nay, she was a whore.
“I am all set then.” She made to depart.
Before she could, he took hold of her shoulders. “I wish you Godspeed. And know you this. I am glad I marked you, glad you wear the gold rings. Especially the one I planted here.” He palmed her loins over her lad’s braies.
Despite her apprehensions, she melted into him, her body responding to the sexual power that had held her in sway right from the first. “I will not fail you, my lord.”
“This I know. I pity anyone who gets in your way.” He handed her a bejeweled dagger.
She would have found the blade a beautiful piece had its purpose not been so deadly.
“Use it without mercy,” he instructed as she secreted the weapon up her sleeve. “Go now. The mercenaries are ready to scale the walls, and there is not a moment to spare. At this rate, the gate will topple by nightfall.” With a hard kiss, he pushed her away, and she was racing into the dark passageway, sliding a hand along the rough wall. Touch was her only guide.
Squeaking mice scampered out of her path. Other pests crawled over her face. Fortunately no bats flew overhead. She could not tolerate the winged creatures. Other than those minor distractions, naught impeded her mission. In short order, she was back outside, rolling the stone back in place, and running for the boat. Without incident, she uncovered the craft and was on her way on this new leg of her journey.
The Devil of Nettlewood (The Anarchy Tales) Page 16
