Silk and Steel (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Lindsay Townsend

  She drank. The water was wonderfully cooling.

  When she was awake, she was confused. Decimus was a killer yet he tended her with endless patience and gentleness, sleeping beside her, feeding her. Once she heard him call out in sleep, shouting, ‘No more!’ She had woken him and asked what he had been dreaming, but he had been grumpy and sleepy and merely rolled her onto her side and clamped his hard long body against hers. As he snored she thought of what he had told her, that he had been a farmer. Now he cared for her like a rescued lamb.

  A lamb to be fattened up and disposed of later?

  Corinna decided that she did not want to think about it: she was too comfortable. Again she drank, wine now, not water. The wine was wonderfully sweet.

  Two days later her fever broke completely and she slipped into calm, dreamless sleep. When she stirred, she found Decimus sitting on the bed beside her, staring at her as if to convince himself that she was real.

  ‘Good morning.’ He ruffled her hair. ‘Do you like your new quarters?’

  Corinna sat up to stretch the stiffness from her muscles, aware that she was naked and aware of Decimus watching. She wasn’t sure if she enjoyed his stare, but she didn’t dislike it. ‘We’re not in the gladiator barracks?’ she asked.

  ‘I moved us to our new home in the city yesterday. You slept in the cart for most of it.’ He held out his hand. ‘Come see our garden. It’s not so grand or big as Silvinus Cato’s, but I like it. He sent a slave yesterday, by the way, to say he will be calling on us soon. I think he wants to keep an eye on his investment.’

  ‘Investment?’ Corinna was suddenly chilled.

  ‘He’s sponsored a young nobleman, Julius Tertellus, who fancies himself as a gladiator and wants to train with my team at the barracks. I’ve offered to keep an eye on the lad and stop him from injuring himself.’

  ‘I see.’ Corinna breathed out slowly, relieved there was nothing more to her former master’s visit.

  ‘Come.’ Decimus rose from the bed, pulling her with him. ‘Can you cook?’

  ‘I can try.’

  He laughed, saying in a low, amused voice, ‘That’s a skill you can learn later. I’ve other lessons for you now.’ He stood back, giving her hand a final squeeze. ‘Now, walk exactly as you are through that curtain, everything is ready.’

  Wondering at the everything, Corinna obeyed her new master’s instruction.

  Chapter Two

  Decimus sprawled on the bed, giving his little red-haired wench time to move ahead. Even feverish she had been a sweet morsel, now it roused him just to watch her fantastic legs and pert backside as she walked away. The thought of those legs wrapped round him made his mouth go dry while his manhood stiffened further. By Hercules she is perfect, he thought, savoring his ownership. He had always liked small, full-breasted, wide-hipped girls. He liked her, too, for her clear warmth, her wit and her empathy. Most of all she was his exclusively, from the tip of her bright mane of bouncing curls to the soles of her narrow arched feet, and he was aching and ready to enjoy every bit of her.

  Would he have her first and then spank her? He wondered. Or put her over his knee at once and pink up that luscious round bottom of hers with a few well-directed smacks? Would she think it punishment?

  Not the way I do it, he decided, as he rolled off the bed to follow her out.

  Corinna heard his padding approach and shivered slightly, although she remained where she was, leaning against one of the three pillars of a small portico and looking out into a secret, sunken garden. She knew what would happen in a few minutes. In the dusky shade of the portico there was a broad couch littered with cushions and on a table nearby was a jug of wine and cups, a plate of sweet pastries, dates with almond and honey. Noting the basins of good olive oil and ointments perfumed with spikenard at the foot of the couch she felt her face grow hot. As a bath-girl no sexual act should be unknown to her, but at the baths her every mating with a man had been a hurried, casual matter. These careful preparations hinted at arts she did not know.

  ‘Do you like our garden?’ Decimus had joined her by the pillar. Standing behind her, he crossed his powerful, tanned arms around her middle and tugged her close. He was naked, as she was. Half-twisting in his grasp to look up into his bright eyes, Corinna caught a glimpse of the scatter of his clothes leading to where they were.

  His body was taut and hot against hers. She could feel the hairs on his long legs, the wedge of solid muscle across his belly, his ribs against her shoulders. Fully erect, his cock was a thick column rising to his stomach and jutting against her bottom.

  ‘I—’ She had forgotten the question. His was the most beautiful male body she had ever known and to have it touching against hers made her light-headed with mingled excitement and tension. He pressed her closer and her feet scrabbled an instant for balance until her toes were resting on top of his. His cock twitched, riding into the crease of her buttocks, and her own sex clenched in answer.

  He kissed her, rotating her easily in his arms, lifting her higher so her feet dangled, drawing her up so that the tip of his sex nestled in her crop of red, intimate curls.

  ‘The servants have all returned to my old barracks. They hire themselves out from there as it is,’ he said, rocking her against himself. ‘Which means we are alone today.’

  His member brushed against her moist vulva and even as she wondered at his self-control, Corinna felt herself tense, he felt so large to her. Wanting to please him, though, she put her arms about his neck, running a hand through his gray hair.

  ‘Are you pleased, Corinna?’

  ‘Who is the slave here?’ She almost whispered, but what came out of her mouth was a shallow gasp. Every part of her body was tingling and alive, sensitized to an incredible point. She felt the tip of his cock brush and circle her intimate parts again, almost as if his sex was kissing hers. She stretched up and began to kiss him, thrusting her tongue past his half-open mouth.

  In response he moaned, snarling her even closer so that not even a shadow could fit between them.

  ‘Must—’ She must have him inside her. She shifted, trying to lower herself onto him.

  ‘Yes!’ He cupped her bottom in his hands and entered her, Corinna tilting her hips to bring him in more quickly. The stretching of her passage felt strange, but only for a moment. After that, it was all heat and sweetness.

  ‘Honey-cake,’ Decimus was murmuring, kissing her mouth and breasts, his hands patting and clasping her bottom.

  They moved, clashing against each other, then both moving away, then finding their rhythm. Corinna could not believe their closeness, how complete she felt. Even beyond the waves of excitement there was this utter serenity and comfort, a tenderness she had yearned for all her life.

  ‘Ahh!’ He was thrusting quickly now, his hips slamming as he embraced her more and more deeply, spending himself in a final, long, shuddering burst. She could feel his hammering heart and hear his rapid breaths as he hugged and embraced her.

  ‘Sweet honey-cake,’ he said, smacking his lips. He did not turn from her or put her aside as the men at the baths had done, but continued to cradle her, himself half-soft within her. ‘Gorgeous creature.’

  He praised and caressed her and Corinna dozed a moment, lulled by his low voice and warm, supporting body. When she opened her eyes she was lying on the couch, a light cloth draped over her. Decimus playfully shook a water gourd by her ear.

  ‘Water and then wine?’

  ‘Please.’ She drank deeply, shaking her head when he offered her a plate of dates. She was still disconcerted by his doing anything for her. Silvinus Cato would have called it a reversal of nature, an aberration.

  ‘Why the frown?’ Her new master dragged at one of her shoulder-length, springy curls, playing with it as a kitten might tug at a ball of wool. ‘Tiring of me already?’

  ‘No!’ The denial was out before she could stop it and from his self-satisfied smirk she knew that it pleased Decimus very much—certainly his vanity. And
now she was reminded for sure that here with her was no kitten: more a hunting tiger, dangerous, striped by sun and shade and leaping—

  He caught her before she could slide off the couch, tossing her over one shoulder.

  ‘A view of the garden before our wine and next encounter,’ he remarked, chuckling as she almost slapped her hands against his hard, flexing haunches. ‘No, I do not have eyes in the back of my skull, but I would not do that, if I were you. Now, do you like my central fountain?’

  ‘Very much,’ Corinna gasped, amazed by her own rising desire. His body felt so good to her, she realized that she wanted more of it.

  He turned, still with her bumping against his shoulder. ‘And the pink roses?’

  ‘Beautiful in sight and scent.’ How long would this go on? she wondered.

  He turned again. ‘The gravel, lavender bushes, and pots of herbs?’

  ‘Most becoming.’ Corinna wet her lips with her tongue. Her initial horror at being possessed by a hired killer had faded completely and she even found herself becoming daring. ‘Will it be my job to water those?’ she teased.

  ‘Maybe later.’ He carried her back into the shade of the small portico, sitting with her on the couch. ‘Much later.

  ‘I think the wine will keep as well,’ he added, as in one swift, decisive motion he turned her off his lap and over his knee.

  She stiffened at once and Decimus heard her small, swiftly-stifled protest. He brought his mouth to her ear and nibbled her earlobe, whispering, ‘Easy there, slave. Take your love-spanking like a big girl.’

  She reared up off his lap, half-afraid, half-angry. He easily pinioned her back in place and, seizing his chance, slipped one hand between her legs, gently fingering the soft, moist folds of her sex. He brushed the fingers of his other hand over her bottom, cupping and squeezing each perfect white globe in turn, feeling a small thrill of triumph as she moaned, relaxing back over his knee, her head pillowed on the couch, her legs dangling.

  ‘That’s good,’ he murmured, rubbing the whole of his hand over her raised buttocks. In the arena, when he fought, his world shrank inwards to his sword and his opponent’s weapon, hands, eyes and feet. In those moments, any who came at him was nothing but a moving target. Here in the garden all that was changed. He felt linked to Corinna, joined in a mutual breath as she began to squirm with pleasure under his gentle, persistent touch. As he watched her clear, expressive face he guessed her doubts, paused in his caresses and whispered reassurance.

  ‘Yes, Corinna, I have done this before with other women—one woman, to be exact. A Roman lady, a widow, older than me. We became lovers five years ago and she taught me everything civilized, from bed-sport to table-manners. She remarried last year and still comes to watch me fight.’

  His girl was now very still across his lap.

  ‘Is she happy?’ she asked, after a moment.

  ‘Very.’ Decimus smiled, glad for the Lady Julia’s sake.

  ‘Is she a red-head?’

  He sensed, rather than heard, the note of fear behind the question. ‘You are my red-head, Corinna. No other.’

  That was enough talk for now, he decided. It was time for his red-haired girl to burn with a different kind of fire.

  He scooped a palm-full of cool ointment from the nearest basin and creamed it over her bottom, working generous amounts into her pert yet pliant flesh. Using his other hand, he resumed his fingering attentions beneath the delicious scarlet tangle of her intimate brush. She moaned again, more loudly, raising her hips.

  ‘Sweet cheeks,’ he murmured, reveling in her helpless responsiveness. He loved the picture she made across his knee; her thighs taut and tensed against his left leg, her tits soft and squashed against his right leg as she pivoted still more, head down, hips up, offering up her ass to his greedy hands.

  He lavished more ointment on his intended target, the sudden cold causing her to gasp then to wriggle her behind, her pink sex shamelessly on display, her mouth silently pleading. He could feel her erect nipples pressing against his leg and see how soaked she was between her thighs.

  ‘Ripe for more,’ he muttered, inhaling the perfume of her arousal. The whole of his new garden now smelt of sun-baked roses, herbs, spikenard and sex. He wrapped a brawny arm tight about her narrow waist, positioning her aptly for his pleasure, and withdrew his other hand from her cave of delights.

  He spanked her lightly, with cupped fingers, savoring the swift coloring of her flesh and greater heat of her bottom. She jerked, her head flying up, lips and eyes wide in surprise, but her body arched slightly upwards, anticipating his next spank.

  ‘I have you now,’ he said, and continued spanking with a will.

  The scent of her grew stronger as she bucked and squirmed across his thighs, her breath coming in great gasps, her bottom a pale tint of rose. He could see her juices glistening on the tops of her thighs and between her kicking legs. Her vulva was red, the bud of her womanhood engorged and standing proud.

  ‘That’s it, my beauty.’ He quickened the tempo of his smacks, his hands covering the whole of her bottom, turning the whole area a deeper, glowing pink.

  Spank! Spank, spank, spank. Spank! Spank! Spank, spank, spank….

  Corinna panted, thrusting her bottom up, higher and higher, her mind empty of shame or foreknowledge, her thoughts a white blaze of yielding and spiraling need. Each swift, sharp spank was a tingling spark against her flaming loins, a wonderful stinging sweetness jolting deep into her pleasure zones. She felt both vulnerable and strong, for her pleasure and submission was also a gift—a present to her master, whom she knew was enjoying working on her crimsoning ass and increasing love-juices. She knew because he kept on spanking her; spanking and fingering, while his own sex was a column again, rigid against her belly, pulsing in time to her fevered writhing.

  ‘Please, please—’ She wanted that rigid cock inside her. She was desperate to have him stuff her, fill her, fuck her.

  Her bottom felt twice its normal size and felt to be still growing. He scooped her own wetness from between her legs and rubbed it over her glowing mounds.

  ‘That’s it,’ he encouraged, as she lifted herself to him again. ‘Come on, honey-cake, offer yourself to me. Offer—’ Spank! ‘Offer—’ Spank, spank. ‘Offer—’

  More sweet, stinging spanking that made her feel as if her head and bottom were about to explode. As she gasped, he brought his head low, his lips pressing against her tautened neck, licking and speaking, praising and exhorting.

  ‘Who’s a good girl, to be offering these two bright shiny cherries to me?’ Spank, spank. ‘And again—’ Spank! ‘Again—’ Spank, spank, spank, spank. ‘Higher now—’ Spank!

  He rolled her onto her side, jamming her throbbing red behind against the rock of his belly and pillar of his erect cock. She whimpered, wriggling as much as she dare, trying to ease his manhood between her bottom cheeks and into her.

  ‘Tease.’ He kissed her deeply on the mouth, thrusting his tongue inside, grinning as she flicked her tongue inside his mouth. ‘Little tease,’ he murmured, speaking within her mouth as they continued to kiss. He fondled her breasts, complimenting her on their soft, well-shaped fullness, tickling each nipple and cupping the flushed, rosy flesh in his rough, strong palm.

  ‘Master—’ Corinna strained against him, trying to touch him with her own hands. Chuckling, he caught her wrists in one hand and spun her round again, plunging two fingers into her wet and clenching sex.

  ‘Mmmm.’ Corinna offered herself again, hoisting her bottom and widening her splayed legs. Her master responded by driving his long fingers into her and moving them rapidly in and out, his hand making love to her as she begged afresh, ‘Oh, please!’

  ‘Soon, Honey-cake,’ came the gruff answer. ‘When I’ve spanked you to your finish.’

  He lifted her more securely over his knee and began slapping her haunches afresh, the fingers of his other hand still snug and hammering within her while his free hand flashed down again
and again, spanking her harder and faster.

  ‘Ooooh,’ she moaned, the couch and garden blurring before her tear-filled eyes, her whole body tingling, her bottom and vulva aching with exquisite delight. Another slap would surely send her over—

  Spank, spank, spank, spank, spank.

  ‘OOOOHHH.’ Her cry echoed round the walls and now, at her moment of infinite pleasure, her master ran his hands over her scorched, well-used buttocks, extending her shuddering orgasm. She began to yelp, another pleasure-crisis igniting and building swiftly within her.

  ‘My turn,’ said Decimus. He grabbed two large cushions, laid her face-down over them and seized her round the middle. ‘Head down, ass up,’ he ordered.

  Corinna was almost too dazed and dazzled for her thighs to support her, but she did as he wanted, remaining on hands and knees but lowering her head, burrowing her hot, blushing face into the sheet on the couch.

  She felt him line up behind her and her breath stopped. He was big, so big—

  ‘Mmmmf!’ The breath gushed from her lungs as he entered her, withdrawing almost at once and then hammering into her again. He was ready and more than ready—in moments he was pounding into her with rapid, greedy thrusts, spending his seed in her in a roaring climax that sent her into a second long orgasm.

  He withdrew from her, gathered her into his arms and pulled her on top of him. They lay a moment without speaking, listening to the splash of the tiny fountain.

  ‘I never knew,’ she said, when she could speak. ‘I never realized it could be so much, so intense.’

  She sensed him smiling, but all he said was, ‘Sleep now. There is always later.’

  Chapter Three

  Eleven days after he had sold the worthless red-head to the thick-headed gladiator, Silvinus Cato overcame his reasonable distaste in order to put the next part of his plan in motion. He called on the disreputable pair, deliberately choosing a time close to noon, when the rest of Decimus’ hangers-on and barrack-servants would have wandered off to have a meal, or to go to work, or the games, or whatever such creatures did.