by Jane Henry
“My lord,” she moans, her eyes closed. “I am afraid. It feels… so nice,” she whispers. “I am going to lose control.”
“You’ve already lost control, Carina,” I whisper. “You have given it to me. Allow your body now to surrender as well.” I pause, allowing her to digest my words before I issue my command. “Now. Climax, my little one.”
She moans as my own climax reaches a crescendo, her moans getting louder while the pleasure consumes her. As she climaxes my own desire pinnacles and I spill inside her, my heart racing, veins throbbing, my cock pumping into her in exquisite ecstasy. Her pleasure is intense, her body lifting straight off the bed as I hold her and we milk every drop of pleasure from each other’s bodies before collapsing on the bed.
“Oh, my lord,” she whispers. Is she crying? Are those tears I see upon the cheeks of my little one? I reach my thumb to her face and gently wipe them, bringing my thumb to my mouth and licking. I will take what is hers wholly. I own her.
“Shh,” I whisper, falling to my side and drawing her upon my chest. “Hush, sweetness.”
She clings to me as I withdraw. I release her, as I must get a cloth for her.
“No, no, please, my lord,” she begs, reaching her hands to me.
“Just a few moments, Carina,” I say. “I must clean you.” My voice drops. “Now be a good girl and stay there. I shall return almost immediately.”
She nods. I move as quickly as I can, retrieving the cloth and joining her back on the bed. The moment I am reclined next to her, she pounces, her arms grasping me almost painfully as her legs wrap around me like vines.
I chuckle. My little one has responded as she should, then. She does not wish to be separated. I gently pry her off me and open her legs, drawing the cloth over her and cleaning her.
“Thank you,” she whispers, and I am not sure to what she refers.
I nod. “It is my pleasure,” I say to her. I mean every word, all of it, her obedience, our lovemaking, caring for her, and even training her. I will allow her to bask in the afterglow. The days ahead will be a trial to her. She must enjoy what she can for now.
* * *
I wonder if my little one will sleep well, given that she’s experienced both exquisite pleasure and pain in one day. Her mind is likely racing with confusion and fears. It is my hope that now she has begun to trust me a bit more, I will be able to find her more willing to state her purpose. I will train her to obey me, but not break her with interrogation. My men have pressed me for more information. I assured them after my meeting with Isidor that we will meet to discuss whatever Freanossian plans I am able to obtain from her. It is my hope that if she is trained to obey, and she trusts me, she will be less likely to withhold vital information. For now, I must encourage Carina to continue to feel safe with me.
“Are you tired, Carina?” I ask her. Her eyes are already closed, her breath shallower.
“Yes, my lord,” she whispers.
“Hungry?”
She shakes her head. “No, my lord.”
I lift the blanket and tuck it around her, eager to comfort her, but I know she needs more from me. If I am to train her to obey, she must learn to denounce her own desires and follow mine.
“Carina,” I say, my voice harder than it was just a moment ago.
“Mmm?”
“I wish for you to rise and fetch me your tunic,” I say.
Her eyes open and she frowns a bit. She does not wish to leave the comfort and warmth of my bed, but it is her ability to leave such comforts that will strengthen her. “My lord?” she asks in confusion.
I am not pleased with her delay. My voice deepens and I frown. “I said rise and fetch me your tunic. Now, Carina.”
She looks hurt, angry even, but she obeys nonetheless. She retrieves the silky tunic from earlier and hands it to me, looking like a child who is ready to stomp her foot in anger. If she does, I am prepared to discipline her. I have not become who I am by allowing disobedience. She takes a step toward the bed, and I shake my head.
“Not yet,” I say. “Go into the hall and seek Lystava. Ask her to bring a pitcher of water.”
Her frown deepens, and she reaches for the tunic. I lift my hand so that the tunic is out of her reach, wagging a finger. “Oh, no. I did not give you permission to wear this.”
Her eyes widen and her mouth forms a perfect O. “My lord!” she protests. “I am to go, dressed in nothing?”
I simply nod once and gesture for her to go, reaching over and giving her bottom a sharp swat to get her going.
She turns back to me, still frowning. “And if I say no? You will punish me?”
I purse my lips at her, maintaining my stern position. “Certainly.”
Her feet drag as she approaches the door, her head hung low. She goes as far as placing her hand on the doorknob before I raise my voice. “Stop! That is enough. Come back to me, now.”
She turns back to me in confusion, looking first to the door and then back to me. I beckon for her to approach me. Dragging her feet, she approaches me, her brow furrowed. “My lord? I did not disobey you. Are you going to punish me?”
I shake my head. “Why would I punish you if you have not disobeyed me?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
When she reaches me, I draw her close to me and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “I am teaching you to obey me, Carina. I will not betray your modesty.”
She nods, as understanding dawns on her. “You wish to taunt me, then?” she asks. “To tease me?”
“No, Carina,” I say, shaking my head. “I wish to train you. Now join me in bed.”
She does. I draw her onto my chest. “The time is coming,” I explain to her. “The time when you will have to obey me whether you like it or not, whether your heart tells you otherwise, and your mind contradicts me. You must obey me.”
She nods into my chest, still looking confused and a bit angry. She will learn.
“Sleep now, Carina. Tomorrow there is much to be done.”
As she falls asleep, I listen to her breathing. I feel the darkness settling in around me. My instincts tell me she is troubled as she sleeps. I am not sure what it is that troubles her, but I will make it my mission to find out.
Chapter Eleven
Carina
He has woken before me the next day. I wake, but after briefly glancing to notice the indentation on the pillow next to me, I shut my eyes quickly, allowing them to remain shut for the time being. It is the only privacy I have in this place, when my eyes are closed, my thoughts unable to be read by others.
I assess my situation. I am unfamiliar with any type of pain that lasts. On Freanoss, pain is extinguished immediately, with either medication or electric nerve stimulation. Now, it seems my entire body is uncomfortable. My head throbs, my backside and upper thighs sting from the lashes of his belt, and between my legs, I feel a dull but welcome sort of ache. My muscles are sore as well. I wish for my head to stop throbbing, but as I focus on the other pain I am experiencing, I feel an unfamiliar thumping of my heart. I remember how his eyes watched me when his hands went to his waist to remove his leather belt. The feel of his hand on my lower back, holding me in position while he whipped me. It stung—oh, how it stung! I do not wish to be whipped again. But then why do I clench my thighs together at the memory, my breath shallower? And the ache between my legs. It hurts, but I’m also confused. I have been taught on Freanoss that coupling is vile, and my experience with the king was hardly vile. It was… exquisite. I lost control completely, moaning with pleasure, my head thrown back in ecstasy as every nerve in my body seemed to zing in response to his ways.
Despite all of that, a part of me longs for the ways of Freanoss once again. I feel too much here on Avalere. It is disconcerting. I dislike the loss of control I have here… the loss of control in all ways. I think back on the night before when he ordered me to leave the room unclothed, how I felt I had little choice—humiliate myself or face his certain punishment. And when he
called me back to him—why? To prove that he could? Anger rises even now as I lie in bed.
“Time to rise, little one,” I hear from the foot of the bed, the king’s deep voice startling me. He chuckles. “I am sorry to scare you,” he said. “But we have little time to stay here. Much has to happen today, and lying abed will not ready our cause.”
I open my eyes, but quickly shut them again, wincing. The brightness in the room hurts my head. I hear him come to my side, and feel the bed sinking under his weight. His large, warm hand descends on my head, a bit of the pain lifting with the pressure of his palm.
“Are you in pain?” he asks.
I nod. “Yes, my lord.”
“Tell me. Where does it hurt?”
My stomach churns from the effort it takes to speak through the pain. “My head,” I whisper. “My head aches. There is throbbing in my temples and pressure.”
“Is that all?”
I shake my head. “My… well, between my legs aches as well. And my…” I pause, tucking my head in embarrassment, before I continue. “Where you whipped me. My thighs and backside burn as well.”
He smoothes his hand over my head. “I will relieve you from your headache.” His hand travels to my bottom and squeezes. “I will let you feel the ache of your punishment, as a reminder to obey me.” His fingers travel over my hip and I gasp as he moves his hand firmly between my legs, spreading them apart, dipping his fingers between my folds, already slick and ready for him. “And when time allows later, I will ease the pain between your legs.”
I nod, embarrassed yet thankful. At this point I will merely trust what he says. I need relief from the pain. He stands and I feel the sudden loss, but keep my eyes shut. I hear the musical twinkling of the bell, and the knock on the door. Murmured voices, and moments later, he approaches me.
“Sit up, Carina,” he instructs. Though it is hard to move, I obey, trying to shift my weight to the side to avoid my backside hitting the sheets, but that is impossible. I give up, wincing as the cool sheets hit my punished skin. He does not react. He does not regret punishing me.
On the tray in his hand, he has a dark cup with steam rising from it. “Drink your tea, now,” he says. “I’ve placed your remedy in it. It is bitter but will quickly bring you comfort.”
I do not like their tea, and frown as he hands me the cup. I do wish for relief from the pain, however. I eye the cup warily, lifting it to my nose and sniffing. It smells bitter and strong. Though there is only a small amount in the cup, I do not wish to drink it.
“Is there nothing else I can take?” I ask.
His lips purse, crossing his arms across his chest as he eyes me, though his eyes twinkle.
“Nothing else,” he says. “And you have precisely one minute to finish that entire cup before I take you across my lap and renew that sting you feel in your backside.”
I huff out a breath. Savage!
He uncrosses his arms, coming to me, and I quickly lift the cup and take a hasty sip. It is hot but not scalding, so I am able to drink it. It doesn’t taste pleasant, but it’s acceptable. I frown, handing him the cup.
“Happy?” I snap, before I realize what I am saying. He has me in his arms, and I cringe. I’ve spoken hastily, and may now incur punishment. But he merely sits against the pillows and lays me across his chest so that my cheek is flush against the curly hair and his bare skin.
“I am happy you obeyed, yes, Carina,” he says. “But your tone of voice needs improvement.” He draws his hand through my hair, entwining the locks in his large fingers before he gives a little tug. It hurts my already sore head. “So let’s try that again.”
“Yes, my lord!” I say, eager to avoid punishment.
He nods, accepting my answer. “Very good, little one. How is the pain in your head now?”
I close my eyes and assess. It is gone. The pain has completely subsided.
“Better,” I say.
He nods, as his hand travels down my back to my backside and he squeezes. The sting is renewed. I gasp, squirming, as he moves further down the bed and spins me so that I am over him and he beneath me. “Move this way,” he orders, positioning me so that my head is near his legs and my lower body above him. “Your sweetness over my mouth.”
Does he mean? No! He cannot!
“My lord!” I gasp.
“Do it,” he orders, moving my hips roughly, lining me up so that his mouth is now under my sex, already pulsing with need. My hands grasp his large hips as he opens his legs. He is ready for me. “Relax,” he says. “Close your eyes for a moment.”
I obey, still straddling his face, my own cheek resting against the small hairs along his strong, muscular thighs. I feel his hands reach for my nipples and squeeze, the very moment his tongue strokes along my folds. I gasp from the sensation, as he swirls my sensitive nub with his warm, sensual tongue. My hips buck from the feeling. I gasp as he pinches my nipples again, then kneads my breasts, his tongue moving persistently, my pleasure mounting as he licks lazily then sucks, laps then sucks, again and again.
“My lord,” I gasp, at the verge of losing control, my cheek against his thigh, my hands grasping his legs, panting as he strokes and sucks, his hands moving in time to my nipples as his tongue brings me right to the cusp of ecstasy.
“Come, little one,” he whispers, the momentary loss of his mouth while he speaks unbearable. “Now,” he breathes, one final stroke of his tongue all I need.
My eyes squeeze tight, my pleasure bursts within me, waves of ecstasy pulsing through me. My hips jerk from the intensity, but he holds my aching backside to keep me from escaping, his tongue torturing me as I continue to climax, hard. Finally, I collapse on him. His hands reach for me, pulling me over his chest as he runs a hand through my hair, caressing.
“Good girl,” he croons. “I will pleasure you with my tongue until the ache heals, and then I will take you again.”
I squirm, feeling thankful, sated, and exposed all at once. He continues, as if we’ve just had a cup of tea together, or gone for a leisurely stroll. “Now you will prepare for the day. Dress. I will fetch Lystava to arrange your hair and clothing. We have a visit to pay someone, and I must meet with my counsel. There is much you and I need to learn about one another that will be aided by one who knows more than us both.”
I look at him in surprise. “Do we?” I ask.
He nods. “Yes,” he says. “I will know what your purpose here is. Are they coming for you?”
I blink at the unexpected question, unwilling to state my purpose. Until now, he hasn’t pressed me hard for information.
“My lord?”
He frowns as he gets to his feet, lifting me to mine and bringing me over to get dressed. He stands me in front of the bed as he goes to the wardrobe and fetches another blue tunic, this one a darker shade than the one I wore the day before. “To make sure you are safe,” he says. “Are they coming for you? Must I prepare for an attack on my people, a rescue mission of sorts?”
“No, my lord,” I whisper. That is not the way of the Freanossians. I have never known them to come for anyone.
The stab of loss hits me between the chest. Though I’ve gone my entire life without the aid of human companionship, I wonder now if it would be different for me if I did have someone to come fetch me. Someone who cared if I was hurt, or lost, or imprisoned.
“No father? No brothers? No military to defend your honor?”
I shake my head as he slips the tunic on me. “The military defends the planet, not my honor.”
He frowns, and speaks low, as if to himself. “A strange land indeed,” he murmurs. “So strange. We must hasten to the Wise One while there is still time.”
I wonder at his words. The tunic now covering my body, I feel the gnawing at my stomach, reminding me it is time to eat. I am learning.
He is distracted as he calls for food, his fingers stroking his beard as he paces the room. A moment later, the man he called Arman knocks and enters.
“
My lord?”
The king looks at him, his brow furrowed. “I must hasten to the Wise One this morning. I met with Idan last night and heard the briefing, but we shall convene again today at noon. See that all meet here, at the cabinet.”
Arman bows his head, acknowledging the king’s order, and takes his leave, at the same time Lystava brings a tray of food. The king doesn’t even speak to her, merely gestures hastily for her to leave the food. I give her a small smile, nodding my thanks, as she rests the food on the table.
When the door shuts, I reach for the pretty, round purple fruit, prepared to take a bite, but a low growl stops me. I look up, surprised to find him glaring at me.
“You have permission to eat?” he asks. I look away in embarrassment. It seems that I am becoming familiar here, and have forgotten that he expects me to wait for him. I drop the food and hang my head.
“No, my lord,” I whisper.
He pulls out a chair from the table and sits, his large frame foreboding as he scowls at me. His knees spread apart, his hands flat on his thighs, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Come here,” he orders.
Tentatively, I stand, dragging my feet as I walk to him. Am I to be punished? He said yesterday he will no longer warn me, but advance my training. He points wordlessly to the table and says one word. “Hands.”
Swallowing, I obediently place my hands on the table, my back to him now. He places one hand on my lower back. I am shaking with nerves. Without another word, he delivers three sharp stings in rapid succession, hard enough that I gasp out loud. My cheeks flush with embarrassment as he puts his hand to my waist and spins me around to face him. He chucks a large finger under my chin, his dark eyes boring into mine, his whiskers appearing even heavier and darker than the day before, the dark slashes of the markings on his skin underscoring his inherent danger and power.
“You will obey me,” he says. “You will wait until I eat before you do.”
I nod. “Yes, my lord,” I whisper, not trusting my voice.
He does not release my chin. “The next time you eat before I do, I will have you fetch your hairbrush, and spank you with the flat. Am I clear?”
