Slave for a Day

by Jane Henry

  The bar gleams beneath overhead lighting fixtures. A flickering fireplace lends a sense of ambiance to the room. Well-dressed waitstaff walk about the room with silver trays laden with food, while others serve trays of drinks. My eyes go to Svali’s. She looks back at me, her brows lifted in shock.

  I scan the area. I must pretend to know Vortrian, and hope that our disguise hides us well enough There are couples milling about, similar to the bar outside. Some women are sitting by the feet of their men as they drink, some are crawling like the redhead.

  In the far corner, there are benches and shackles, and I see several couples making their way to that area. One man over there has his woman tied up and gagged. Another has his crawling at his feet as he flicks the end of a leather whip. She flinches when the tail connects with her bare skin, but her eyes glow.

  Despite my reservations, there is something about the wanton atmosphere and sexual vibes that cause desire to grow in my stomach.

  A firm tug at my hand catches my attention. Svali’s eyes are riveted toward the back of the room where a man sits, surrounded by half a dozen women. The man is easily twice my size in girth, his ample waist hanging over the edge of his breeches, his shirt stretched taut against his chest. His head is shaved bare, he has a double chin, and when he grins at the woman beside him, his smile makes me clench my fists. I stare. Right there in front of the repulsive man sits Cambri, dressed scantily, chains about her neck and wrists.

  I glare at Svali. If she steps one toe out of line, she will answer to me. “You know what I expect,” I hiss.

  “Yes, of course, my lord,” she hisses back, but her eyes are on her sister. I groan inwardly. I can tell she is not listening to me at all. I reach for her hair and pull, and even with that, her eyes do not come to me readily. “She has four people behind her,” she is muttering.

  Without another thought, I slap her backside. She flinches, and her eyes look up at me. “What?” she says.

  “You are not listening to me,” I say, trying to give her my most serious look. “I need to know that you are paying attention.”

  “Of course,” she mutters, but her eyes are focused elsewhere. I am contemplating the usefulness of giving her another good spanking to get her attention when a thin, blond man comes up to me. It takes me a second to realize this is Shaan in disguise.

  “Good evening,” he says, offering us a tray with drinks on it. I would not normally take a drink like this without being sure I knew the source, but Shaan’s nod confirms that it is safe. I don’t want one, but hand one to Svali, who takes it and thanks me. She will need this to get through the evening.

  Shaan’s mouth comes to my ear. “They needed extra hands tonight, and one thought she remembered me from before,” he said. “So I was able to get into the servants’ chambers. Do you see Cambri?”

  I nod. “Yes,” I say, watching Svali take a drink from her glass. Her eyes widen and she smiles at me, tipping the glass up even further. “And am I to assume the man surrounded by women is Vortrian?”

  Shaan’s face twists in disgust. “Yes,” he says. “He arrived an hour ago. Obviously Cambri does not know who we are, and I think it best she does not until we have her secured.”

  I nod. I agree with him. He is brave and intelligent, and I trust that he will put forth the greatest effort possible to rescue his woman. I cannot imagine what it would be like to see Svali imprisoned like this. Shaan must feel murderous.

  “Vortrian likes to be entertained, like the lords of old,” Shaan whispers in my ear. “But instead of music and dance, he likes to see couples perform… demonstrate, one might say.”

  “Oh?”

  “Not unlike what happened in the main area,” he said. Then, with a grin, he nods to Svali. “Good job.” He nods to me. “Just keep your eyes focused on what the others are doing, and you will see what I mean.”

  He steps away, offering the tray to another couple just in front of us.

  “Drink,” I say to Svali. “It is safe.”

  Svali giggles and sways on her feet, but takes another sip. “It’s delicious, my lord,” she says. “Makes me giddy. I feel like I could fall to my knees and suck your cock in front of the whole room!”

  My eyes widen. She has never said a thing like that in her life, and now she says so in a voice so loud she gets the attention of several other couples around us. I tug her dark hair, a warning that she is not to forget her place, or our purpose, but it only makes her giggle. I suddenly realize it may not have been the smartest choice trusting Shaan. Yes, this is not poisonous, but what is the strength, and what effect will it have on Svali?

  “Give that to me,” I instruct, reaching for the glass, but she giggles again, turns away from me, and before I can catch her, she tips the glass and finishes her drink.

  I have had it. Mission be damned. She was not paying attention to me, and though I gave her the drink to begin with, she knew I wanted her to stop. I grab the back of her head, and fist my hand in her hair. “What did I tell you?” I growl.

  Her eyes widen, but she still giggles. “Oh, I love that,” she says. “It makes me wet for you, master,” the bubbling laughter preventing her from speaking clearly. How will we complete our mission with her behaving this way?

  “Svali,” I hiss in her ear. “Get yourself together, woman.” But she bats at my chest and pushes me away.

  “Leave me ‘lone,” she slurs, and when a waiter walks by us, she reaches her hand out to grab another drink.

  “You will not have another,” I say, tugging her hand back, and to my shock, she slaps my hand.

  I have had enough.

  I drag her by the wrists to the back of the room where couples are strewn about on benches and chairs, engaging in lascivious acts without restraint. I find a sturdy chair that will bear my weight. I sit down, and haul her over my knee. She giggles and squirms, but cannot get away from me. I tuck her under my left arm and with my right, bare her to me. We shall see if she is still giggling for long.

  I smack my hand down hard. With the first strike she still giggles, but by the fourth, she is no longer laughing. We have the attention of several in the room now, those closest to us watching in fascination as I spank her again and again, one smack after another falling. “You pay attention to me,” I growl. “No more to drink for you.”

  “I’m sorry, my lord,” she moans, squirming. “I have learned my lesson. Please, let me go.”

  “Are you allowed to drink when I ask you to stop?” I ask her sternly.

  “You gave me the drink!”

  Another hard smack. “Did I ask you to stop drinking? Did I give you leave to have the second?” I ask.

  She pauses and squirms. “I don’t remember,” she slurs.

  I sigh and give her one final whack, bringing her back to her feet. “You listen to me,” I say, pointing a finger at her chest. “You are not paying attention. I wish I had not allowed that drink.”

  “You call that a beating?” comes a deep, lewd voice from across the room.

  We both look at the same time. Vortrian is here, standing right by the doorway, his hands across his chest. His voice is slurred, and his eyes unfocused, bloodshot, as he leans against the doorframe. “When I bring people in here to the inner part, I expect a good show,” he says, spittle forming on his lips. He swipes the back of his hand across his mouth.

  “No,” I say, meeting his eyes squarely. “I call that a reminder. The woman knows her place.”

  “Do I?” Svali says, giggling like a lunatic. She falls to her knees and tugs at my breeches. What is she doing?

  “Get to your feet,” I hiss at her, dragging her to standing in front of me. I lean in and talk in her ear. “Close your mouth and do not speak.”

  Her eyes widen, and she puts her hand over her mouth, giggling, then she removes her hand and whispers loud enough for all to hear. “What will happen if I speak? Will you spank me again?” She wiggles her little backside at me.

  “I think you need to shut
her little mouth for her,” Vortrian says from the doorway. His eyes gleam and he fairly licks his lips. I need to sober her up all right, but I do not want to do so in front of a crowded room and not at his command.

  Svali leans in and speaks in my ear now. “Whip me. Whip me in front of all of them.” She lowers her eyelids and whispers. “You can make it hurt but in a way that feels so good.” How much of what she says is the drink? How much for show?

  My eyes meet hers and I know in that instant that she is right. She likes my silks about her wrists, the kiss of my leather on her naked skin. She begs me to take her forcibly, and when I thoroughly redden her bedside before I make love to her, she is always slick with desire, her back arching off the bed for me when she climaxes.

  This will help him see I am one of them…

  The crowd has caught on to us now, and I feel the eyes of all around us staring. They cheer, urging me onward. “Very well,” I say with a growl. I grab her by the hair, a fistful in my hand. I am careful to grasp her firmly, but wait for her to go with me so that I do little more than tug her. “I have had enough of your attitude,” I say to her, pushing her up against the wall. I take her hands and place them flat on the cool surface, thankful the place is luxurious and clean. True to her role, she pulls her hands away and frowns at me.

  “Oh, master,” she croons. “I don’t like standing like this.” Instinctively, I grab her wrist, spin her around, and spank her bottom hard.

  “Keep your hands there,” I growl. Her eyes look to me, her cheeks aflame, and she slowly, ever so slowly, obeys. My hands travel to my waist and I remove the coiled whip from its holster. She swallows and licks her lips.

  It is hard to believe this dark-haired vixen is my Svali, but when her gaze meets mine once again, I know. Her eyes hold her fire and passion, shining to me, a secret meeting of the minds no one in the room knows but me. I flick the whip in the air. It whistles, and she shivers. I flick it against my palm, testing the intensity. It burns but can be modified.

  I march closer to her, grabbing her hair and tugging her head back. “Face the wall and take your punishment, woman.” The crowd erupts in cheers. Her eyes still focused on me, she obeys.

  I raise my voice so that all present can hear me. “You will learn your place,” I say in a loud, stern voice, bringing my hand back and snapping the whip against her rounded backside. She squeals when the tip hits, but I have not disrobed her so it will only bear a bit of a sting. I know how to apply the whip without harming her. Another flick of my wrist and she squirms, a third and she yells out loud.

  I walk over to her and whisper in her ear. “How are you doing, lovely? You are so brave, my girl.”

  She closes her eyes. “You need to bare me,” she hisses before turning her face toward the crowd and shouting out loud. “I will not do as you say, you overbearing brute!”

  I gladly bare her then, shoving up her tiny skirt and revealing her pert, naked bottom for all to see. Part of me hates that others will see her like this, but I am hard for her. She is lovely, and I wish to take her here. The room is dark, but it is as if she is the only thing I can see. The outline of her figure, her breasts heaving with the strength it takes to submit to me. Her knuckles are white up against the wall as I rear the whip back and strike her again. She emits a low gasp as a welt rises pink against her pearly skin. Again, I whip her, crisscrossing marks, then again, four whistling cuts of the lash that land in succession. I am holding back my strength, doing as best I can to give the appearance of exertion while I strike with measured care.

  I walk up and whisper in her ear. “You are doing well.” My left hand, the one not holding the whip, reaches for her full, luscious breasts, my fingers squeezing her nipples. She moans in pleasure and pushes her bottom out to me. I ignore the catcalls of the men around us, the eyes of those who will see her, as my hand dips lower, my eyes only on her. My fingers graze the edge of her cleanly-shaven pussy, and I dip lower still, probing her deliciously damp folds. Her breath catches in her throat as I stroke her. I speak loudly enough so that the crowd hears me. “You naughty little girl. How dare you become aroused at a punishment? Perhaps I have not been firm enough with you.”

  A cheer raises at my words. I lean in to speak in her ear. “Scream when the lash strikes you, lovely.” I raise the whip and flick it through the air, the tip biting her naked skin. She throws back her head and howls, a feminine screech that sets my heart to racing even as my cock hardens painfully. I flick it again, and again, each lash hitting her in a different place. Despite the crowd and noise, I can hear every single bite of leather on skin.

  Finally, her shoulders slump and her head rests up against the wall. She has had enough, and it seems I have satisfied the crowd.

  “See how a wench obeys her master,” Vortrian’s thick voice says from the doorway. I turn to look at him, and from the corner of my eye, I see a figure approach Svali. A tall, burly man approaches my wife, his greedy hands outstretched.

  “Leave her alone,” I growl.

  “No sharing?” Vortrian asks from the doorway.

  I take the risk of being overconfident. “Did you forget?” I ask him as if we have always been fast friends. “I have never shared my women. We discussed this the last time I visited, and you put up a fuss then, too.”

  The crowd erupts into laughter and Vortrian looks at me quizzically.

  “I know you?” he asks.

  I frown, attempting to show my displeasure. “Certainly,” I say. “Did you forget that you promised me a share at your table? A share in your spoils?” I will take advantage of the drink he has had, hedging my bets that I can trick him. I cross my arms on my chest in my best attempt to look disgruntled and foreboding.

  A scream echoes in the room. I jump, startled as I turn back to Svali. The bastard did not do as I said. His greedy hands are upon my wife.

  Without conscious thought, the whip in my hand lashes out at him, wrapping around his wicked hand. He howls in pain, trying in vain to detach his wrist, but he cannot. I yank it, dragging him away from Svali and in front of my feet. His wrist is encircled in an angry red mark. He grasps at his arm, still screaming in pain. I let the whip go lax and release his wrist, taking him by the front of his shirt and pulling his filthy face to me.

  “I do not share my women,” I growl. “How dare you touch her without my leave?”

  The man looks at Vortrian.

  “Do as he says,” Vortrian mutters, “unless you wish to taste the bite of that whip further.”

  The man frowns and lunges at me, but I am quicker. I duck, missing his fist, and come up with my own fists flying. I catch him straight in the gut, knocking him over. He rolls on the floor, grabs a chair, and swings it in my direction. I dodge the swing, grab the legs of the chair, and send it flying against the wall where it splinters like a child’s toy.

  With a ferocious growl, he attacks me. I catch him mid-air with a wicked punch. He falls backward, hits his head against the wall, and with an oomph, falls to the side, shaking his head.

  Vortrian shakes his head and gestures to the man on the floor. “Cuff him,” he grunts, before pointing to me. “He has done me a service, incapacitating the filthy beggar. He says I promised him a girl?” He leers while guards come and handcuff the man who dared to try to touch my woman. “Continue what you’ve started, and I’ll give you one.”

  I clench my jaw. I hold the upper hand, and I can play this to my advantage. “I will gladly continue what I have started,” I say. “But I wish to have them behind closed doors.”

  His voice drops and his eyes grow wicked. “Give them both to me when you are finished.”

  The very idea of this man touching my wife has my stomach clenched in nausea, but it is a ploy, one I must make if I am to leave with Cambri.

  Vortrian’s eyes gleam. “Give him one,” he says, with a casual gesture toward the women.

  I gesture for Svali to come to me. She shoots me an incredulous look, but I silence her with a stern gl
are. I take her by the hand and lead her toward the others.

  “I’ll take her,” I say, my eyes meeting Cambri’s. She does not yet know what she sees. For all her purposes, we are a man and woman used to being here. Her eyes are wide and fearful as she looks at the whip I coil in my hand before sliding it into my holster.

  “Take her,” Vortrian says, clapping me on the shoulder.

  I take Svali by the hair, and her sister by the upper arm, following Vortrian to a private room.

  I smile to myself. Svali is suddenly completely sober.

  Chapter 7

  Svali

  My head feels detached, my eyes unfocused, but I am much more myself now than I was before. I do not quite know what came over me, but after I had the delicious drink, the ice-cold, sweet and sour concoction that warmed me to my very toes, the room seemed brighter, and the crowd around us faded. All I could focus on was my stern, sexy husband, the way his formidable glare turned my insides to mush, my pussy throbbing as his hand coiled around the handle of his whip.

  My skin still burns from the sting of the lash, but the very memory of the whipping has my stomach dipping, my breasts swelling, arousal dampening my naked thighs.

  I wouldn’t have cared if he fucked me in front of them. I’d have spread my legs and begged for more. But he wisely kept our ultimate goal in mind.

  He has turned the tables. Vortrian eating out of his hand now.

  Idan takes me in one hand, and grasps Cambri in the other. She glares at him, not recognizing him under the guise of his enchantment, and the look she shoots him is nothing short of hatred.

  Vortrian waddles toward an empty bedchamber. I have never seen anything like it on Kleedan in my life. Bright lights hang from golden chandeliers in the hallway, the doorframes edged in gleaming metal. The floor is lined with a plush, burgundy carpet, and guards stand at attention.