by Jane Henry
His hand moves higher up my thigh, so now the top of his hand barely touches my sex. I close my eyes. This is wanton, uncivilized, so wrong. Yet I couldn’t stop him now if I wanted to. He pinches and squeezes my thigh. A near sob of desire escapes my lips. His eyes lift quickly to mine.
“Do you want me to touch you, little one?” he asks.
Why is he asking me? He is already touching me. It is his touch that has undone me. I cannot speak. I have no words. I am at his command. Swallowing hard, I nod. I must feel him touch me more.
He nods soberly. “Hold onto my shoulders,” he says.
I obey, my arms encircling his wide, muscled shoulders.
He grips my bottom with one hand, the warmth of his palm cupping the pain he put there, but the touch is welcome. His other hand moves from the inside of my thigh, further up. “You are bare,” he says. “Bare and beautiful.”
What an odd thing to say, I muse. I have been bared and barren of hair since I reached womanhood. It seems the savage likes it.
One finger travels higher. I take in breath in shallow gasps. His finger is so close, so close to where I want it. When his finger dips between my folds, my knees buckle. I am raw, nothing but nerves, as his gentle yet firm touch encircles my womanhood. The sweet, blissful, torturous feeling consumes me, and I focus on his touch, his caress. I know I need more. What will happen if he keeps touching me? His steady rhythm increases, and he’s moving faster now. My heartbeat is accelerating, my need to breathe forgotten, the strength of his shoulders beneath me, my breasts against his head, my need intensifying with every stroke of his hand.
“Do you like that, Carina?” he whispers, his voice a harsh breath of air against my breasts.
“Mmmm,” I moan, incapable of coherent thought or words.
His hand stops. No. He cannot stop now. I do not know what will happen when he continues, but I do know that he must not stop. No, no, this cannot be. What is he doing to me?
He sits upright, firmly moving my arms off his shoulders. His eyes stare at me soberly, not a trace of amusement now as he eyes me. “It is time for you to be dressed,” he insists.
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head, moving closer to him. “Please.”
“Not now,” he says, his eyes stern as he looks at me, as if challenging me to disobey him.
He cannot stop now! How dare he? “You must,” I insist, moving against him as if to make him touch me. “If-if you don’t… touch me… I need you to touch me!” I am angry now, my need so intense I want to hurt him. “If you do not touch me, I will!”
I am shocked at the words that have come out of my mouth, but I am near frenzied with desire.
His eyes darken. He reaches for my hair, grasping a fistful of it in his strong hand, pulling back so that a prickle of pain stings my scalp. “You shall not,” he orders. “Your body is mine, and mine alone. You forfeited your right to pleasure yourself when you became mine. I own every inch of you, from the little lashes that frame your eyes down to the swell of your hips, to the apex of your thighs, to the toes of your feet. Your pleasure is mine to command. I am master of you, of every inch of you.”
I groan out loud. I am going to die from the want within me, and his denial of my needs. His grasp on my hair flexes. I cry out from the pain of it, but he holds fast and continues. “If you obey my commands and behave yourself, the time will come when I will culminate your pleasure,” he says. His voice is harsh, almost angry. “But until then, you will do as you’re told.”
He is waiting for my response. I want to hurt him, knee him, and smack away the hand that is holding my hair. I even entertain the thought for a moment, before I banish it. What would my violence against him incur? He is stronger and bigger, and I will be punished.
He promises if I obey he will pleasure me… eventually.
I swallow and exhale. “Yes,” I say, barely biting back the curse words that I wish to utter. His reaction surprises me. He releases my hair, both hands going to my waist as he pushes me over his knee. I realize a split second before he spanks me for the error of my ways.
“Yes, my lord!” I say quickly, but not in time to stop his palm from descending. The blistering swat has me up on my toes, and I squeal out loud from the pain of it, but to my shock, pressed up against his thigh like this, my desire throbs.
What has he done to me?
Chapter Six
Aldric
I inhale deeply. She is ripe with arousal, though she claims ignorance of her sexual desires. I want to take her on the bed, master her body thoroughly. I long to feel her trembling beneath me, shuddering under my thrusts, keening with a yearning so intense, she is at my utter mercy. I long to taste her, to slip my tongue through her sweet folds, ravaging every inch of her body, mind, and soul, until she is split open to me. She has awakened in me the fire of desire. But she shall not taste pleasure until she has learned that her ecstasy belongs to me alone.
I have much to teach my Carina.
“Raise your arms above your head, please,” I instruct. Her lower lip sticks out a bit, a near pout, though not quite disobedient enough that I need to correct her again. I understand her frustration. If I am correct in my understanding, she has never experienced sexual release. She will feel release unlike anything she could imagine. But she will learn to defer to me, and I have many methods I will employ to instruct her. Making her wait for pleasure is only one of many tools.
When she obeys, I lift the blue garment I’ve chosen for her and slip it over her head. It falls over her shoulders, past her breasts, and drapes lightly so that it hits her well above the knees. I turn her around, and inspect to be sure the marks I’ve left her are visible. I frown. They aren’t quite to my liking. Turning her around again to face me, I push her lower back firmly so that she is bent over my knee. She must be marked, but she must also be reminded of her place. I can feel the tension within her, and I do not trust that she will obey. My men are a possessive people. They must know that she belongs to me, and to me alone.
“I have not disobeyed!” she says, already understanding that I am about to lay a few more stripes on her. It is good she has learned so quickly.
“You have not,” I say. “But we are about to move from my chambers, and I want it clear that you belong to me. I can do so with a chain around your neck, but that is not my preference. I prefer you choose to obey without physical restraint. I can be a kind and reasonable master, so I shall give you the choice. Shall I mark you with the flat of my hand so that all who see you know you are mine, or would you choose instead the links around your neck?”
Her blue eyes are wide, and her breathing is labored. “I…” she falters, and frowns before answering, her gaze meeting mine from beneath lowered lashes. “Your hand, my lord.”
She has chosen well. She will be rewarded for her bravery. With a nod, I pull her over to my knee in such a way that she straddles me, her legs on either side of my leg, her naked sex flush against the warmth of my skin. Her tunic lifts and she is bared to me. I bring my hand down firmly, the sharp slap of my palm against her exposed bottom resounding in my chambers. She gasps. The force of the blow pushes her sex against me. Her spanking will serve a two-fold purpose. Another hard swat follows the first, then another. I am careful to place her marks at the curve of her backside and lower, upon her thighs, the reddened hand prints rising on her pale skin. To reward her for her bravery, I dip one finger between her folds and stroke her. She moans, grinding against my knee. I smile. My woman will be pleasured this evening, but not until she is near begging for release. I give her three more sharp swats before I lift her. She is panting, breathless with desire. Grasping the back of her neck, I bring her mouth to mine and claim it with a savage kiss.
Then I stand. It is time to go to the marketplace.
* * *
It is with great pride that I take my woman upon my arm and exit my chambers, placing both her little hands around my elbow, so that I can keep her close to me as we walk. The moment we�
�ve entered the hall, my servants fall into line, trained guards wielding their weapons, prepared to defend and protect, flanking either side. As my guards follow us with disciplined, regular strides, I instruct Carina.
“Today, you will witness the privileges afforded you as my woman,” I say. “Anything you wish to purchase in the marketplace may be acquired. Simply say the word, and any of the wares will become yours.”
“Anything?” she asks curiously.
I smile. “Yes, my Carina,” I say. “There is no possession too costly for the woman who belongs to the Warrior King.”
She is quiet for a moment. “I know little of the ways of your kingdom,” she says. “But I do wonder why you do not simply call yourself king. Why is it that you are instead the Warrior King?”
I turn the corner of my hallway and feel the men who walk with us listening intently. They well know why I am Warrior King, and it is with pride they have taken their appointed positions by my side. It is the greatest honor.
“I have earned my rank in battle,” I explain. “Under normal circumstances, I would await the crowning as king until my father passes to eternal life. As I stood as both prince and victor in many battles, my father granted me headship over Avalere. He did so willingly, as he is aged and prefers to advise me rather than assume full responsibility as king.”
“Battle,” she repeats. “How many victories did you have?”
I smile softly. She is innocent, like a youngling, and it is with pride that I teach her the ways of Avalere. “My victories were many, little one,” I say. “I have held a sword in my hand since I could bear the weight. It is not the sheer number of victories that earned me the title of Warrior King. It is because never, in both battle and single combat, have I lost. As an undefeated warrior, when I came of age, it was a choice both noble and strategic to appoint me Warrior King.” I am proud to tell her of my victories. They were hard-won. Around me, the heads of my men dip in homage.
She says nothing, but seems to be contemplating my words. I take a moment to read her. She is in awe, and I am grateful. It will aid her obedience to me if she finds me worthy of her respect. The scent of her arousal permeates all. I temper a smile. This will serve us both well.
“Now, my Carina, you will listen well as we approach the marketplace.” I pull her so that we are in the shadow of an alcove. Though we do not truly have privacy, I wish her to mark my words. I bend down to her, so that I can see in her eyes, and lift her chin with a finger. “Yesterday, I punished you in front of all.” She shifts, her eyes looking away from me, but I lift her chin and her eyes come back to mine. “Today, I marked you again. When we go among my people, those are wise will know that you are mine. But not everyone is wise.”
She frowns, her brow furrowing. It is fetching, her look of consternation, and I cannot help myself. I bow my head and kiss her lovely forehead. I pull away and continue to explain. “Our men are fierce warriors, and some are savage.”
She huffs out a breath, and for a minute, I do not understand why. I eye her curiously. What a strange reaction.
“Why do you respond in such a manner?” I ask.
She raises her brows. “Apologies… my lord,” she says, tacking on the required words hastily. “It was unintentional. I just find it somewhat surprising that you consider your other men savage. Do you not consider yourself so?”
Her question amuses me. “I make no apologies for what I say or do,” I say. “I do what I am called to in my position. And perhaps what is barbaric is relative, dependent on comparison to others.” I then sober as I must press upon her the import of my words. “Little one, though we have laws in place, there are men here who would take you against your will, and repeatedly. There are some who would find you little more than a vessel for their baser needs. There are some who would not spank you with their hands, but whip you, and some, if they were in my position, would have you crawling on all fours by my side, chained, rather than holding my arm.”
“You are barbaric,” she whispers.
“We are a society that values strength and might. We foster power and individuality in each member of our population, and we respect authority only if it has been earned, not because dissent or disobedience has been bred out of us. We cannot discuss this further, as now I must meet with my commanding officers for our midday meal.” I pause. “But, yes.” I look at her soberly, ensuring she marks me well. “You are right to realize the peril on Avalere. It is especially dangerous for those who wish to question authority.”
Her eyes reflect the fear I hope to evoke, before I take her hand and walk toward the exit. My little one has much to learn.
* * *
As we exit my castle, the beaming rays of the sun welcome us. I enjoy the warmth, walking with pride with my woman upon my arm. It is not until dusk that the color of the sun will fade and become dimmer, purple rays touching us as we prepare for slumber. As I move among the Avalerians, now surrounded by my servants, I feel the weight of responsibility descend upon me. Though the requirement to chastise her last night took precedence, I can delay my interrogation of her no longer. My intelligence officers will be coming soon with fresh information that I must weigh along with her answers. I must learn why she was sent here so that I can take steps to protect the Avalerians. She will be honest with me, or suffer my displeasure.
Soon, I must take her to see the Wise One.
People are milling about, as it is the day in which the Avalerians will display their wares. Yesterday, the day of the festival, was merely a day of preparation. As we approach the tables, the vendors stand taller, and as we pass each table, they behave as they should, bowing their heads and bending on one knee in reverence. I nod appreciatively, allowing Carina time to take in all that surrounds us.
To the left is a table laden with vibrant spices, piled atop parchment in mountains of gold, purple, and crimson. Merchants scoop the precious spices with tiny golden spoons, weighed on a silver scale. Beside that table is another with bolts of multicolored fabric and yarn, woven from the very hand of the woman who now sells it. Beyond that, sizzling meats upon skewers roast, prepared to be sold for the midday meal. My little one watches everything with wide eyes, taking in the colors, the sounds, and smells. Her lips are parted, a look of wonder upon her pretty face. I smile, pleased that she appreciates the talents of my people. In other lands, handmade items are no longer valued, and it is with much effort we have revived the ancient arts. She walks with me quietly, as if transfixed by what she sees, but when we approach a table of jewelry, she stops.
On the table lie swaths of rich black velvet, laden with golden necklaces and earrings, artfully arranged—bracelets made of the priceless pink gold that is native to my planet, gleaming pearls fetched from the salty waters of our ocean and fixed atop bands of gold and silver, rubies that gleam like fire, and diamonds as bright as the stars in the sky. Carina lets go of my hand, and steps over to the jewels. The vendor is a young wisp of a woman with long blond hair that reaches to her waist. Her mouth is agape, her eyes wide as my woman eyes her wares. The young woman’s eyes go to me, as if she’s just realized I am standing there. She drops to one knee, her blond hair a golden curtain that flutters around her and settles like a halo as she lowers her head. “My lord,” she greets with reverence. I nod, pleased at her show of respect.
“Rise, young one,” I say to her. “My lady is here to peruse your wares, and it is my wish that you attend to her. Allow her anything she wishes from your table, and I will see you paid in full from our royal purses.”
The woman rises to her feet, nodding eagerly. “Yes, my lord,” she says, turning to Carina. “My lady, may I assist you?”
Carina looks at her in surprise, then to me.
I smile with a nod. “Go, now, Carina,” I say. “You pick something that you will like, and then I will.”
The vendor looks to me with wide eyes. My choosing from her wares will be the highest honor.
Carina does not move, still staring at
me. “Carina,” I say, my voice dropping a bit as I encourage her to hurry.
“I do not know what to choose,” she says. I look to the vendor and nod, encouraging her to assist Carina. She nods vigorously.
“Given your coloring, my lady, I would recommend diamonds in your ears, perhaps a slim bit of silver at your neck.”
“Not the neck,” I say. The woman’s eyes widen and Carina looks at me in surprise. I gesture for Carina to continue looking as I explain my purpose to the vendor. “The jewelry about her neck will be mine to choose.” Carina frowns a bit, but I do not explain. She will see when the time is right.
I allow the women a few minutes to discuss and sample various items, but my patience is waning. Finally, the vendor looks to me with a small smile and turns to my woman. “Your lord grows impatient,” she says. “Let us choose.” She adorns Carina’s wrist with a silver bracelet, and sends Carina to the end of the table to choose the gems that will be embedded in the gleaming silver.
I lift a silver necklace. “The clasp upon this necklace. Is it fashioned to be removed?”
The blond woman nods. “It is, my lord.”
I frown, eyeing it. “So, then, are you able to fashion it so that it cannot be removed?”
She smiles. “Certainly, my lord.”
“Do so. I shall return at the end of the week to retrieve it, and pay you handsomely. Will you have it ready by then?”
She nods vigorously. Carina, who has been at the other end of the table apart from us and has not heard our conversation, eyes me thoughtfully. I beckon for her, and when she comes I take her by the hand. I escort my Carina from the marketplace, but as we exit, Idan, my chief adviser and head of my military Hisrach, advances eagerly.
“My lord,” he says. “You are needed in counsel promptly. The Hisrach wishes to speak to you.”
