“Is this the best place you could find?” Ioin complained to no one in particular. Looking up at the modest building, he was again reminded of the crudity of his surroundings. The facade was a simple construction of wood beams, stone, and mud. A group of drunkards, presumably from the tavern, loitered outside the door, catcalling at the Syban as they descended the steps from the carriage.
“There was nowhere else, my lord,” the driver replied meekly.
Ioin glowered and continued inside the tavern. “So this is Cianan’s great kingdom,” he muttered, running his fingertips over the grimy symbol on the sideboard by the door that read The Golden Goblet. He chuckled smugly at the implication this place would contain anything resembling gold. He continued toward the barmaid, trying not to touch anything.
“‘Ello, lover,” the woman said, giving a greasy smile as she leaned forward on her meaty arms. “Help you wit’ anythin’?”
Ioin regarded her with the same repulsion he would a dead rodent. “I need a room for the night, if you please.”
“‘Course,” she replied, turning to choose one of the rusty keys hanging on the wall behind her. “The fee’s three gold,” she said as she came out from behind the bar. He tried to take the key out of her grasp, but she held firm. “Due up front.”
“Of course,” he grumbled. He handed over the coins and watched as she slipped them into a small pouch perched between her breasts. “I’ll take my supper in this room. There are four of us.” He turned and indicated the three women huddled behind him in their skimpy gowns.
The woman laughed heartily, clapping him on the shoulder with her sweaty hand. “This ain’t Lord Marek’s castle, lover. You’ll find no servants here.”
A tiny, blonde girl had slithered between them. “Penny, really,” the girl said, her voice tinkling with laughter. “You mustn’t be rude to our guests.” She smiled at him, and he noticed the gentle yet cool beauty of her face.
“Hmmph.” Penny grunted and went back to the bar.
“You mustn’t mind her, sir,” the girl said, taking his arm and leading him to a table in the back. “She’s just been in a bad mood since she broke that mirror with her face.” She giggled softly at her own joke and gestured for him to sit down.
“And who might you be?” he asked, stepping into his silky, seductive tone as easily as old boots. “Surely you must be an angel.”
The girl blushed and batted her eyelashes. “I’m Sera. My father is the owner of this place. We are at your service, my lord.” She gave a slight bow that allowed him a full view of her plump, adolescent breasts.
His mouth watered, but he smiled pleasantly. “I do appreciate your kindness, Sera.” He waved Neesa and the others over. “Just bring us whatever you have back there that isn’t revolting.”
“Of course, my lord.” She turned to obey his order, but he stopped her with a hand on her wrist.
“And do come back to join us, my dear.”
Sera blushed again and nodded. “It would be my pleasure, sir.”
****
Sascha’s eyes fluttered open as early morning sunlight streamed through the window to fall in brilliant blades across her cheek. She yawned, wanting to stretch her aching muscles, but finding that she was unable to move much more than a few inches. For a moment, she was frightened, thinking that perhaps the night before had been some cruel dream and she had awakened to Lord Lescoux’s promised dungeon. Then she spied the roaring fireplace and dark tapestries that were characteristic of Cianan’s bedchamber and relaxed. So it hadn’t been just a dream. Every wonderful thing that had happened, his lips against her skin, the gentle caresses, whispered promises of boundless ecstasy, had all been real. Her heart fluttered in her chest. Happiness had seemed to elude her for her entire life, and now she suddenly had everything she could ever want. The knowledge came with euphoria and a hint of fear. If all could be given to her so suddenly, it could all be taken away just as quickly.
Again, she yawned and tried to sit up. She realized that her arms had been bound with lengths of red silk and she panicked, pulling at the restraints to test their strength. It was of little use. Whoever had tied these bonds had known what they were doing. The ropes seemed to become tighter with every tug until finally, the fabric cut painfully into the tender flesh around her wrists. Flashes of possible reasons for her confinement flooded into her sleepy consciousness. Could Lord Lescoux have returned with an army of men to take the castle? Such things were not unheard of. Or worse, what if he’d actually convinced King Sebastian to arrest Cianan?
“Cianan!” she called out, nearly whimpering. “Anya?” She tried to move again, but found to her surprise that her ankles were also bound with the same silky rope. She was trapped like a dragonfly with wings wet by morning dew. “Cianan!” she shouted again, wincing as her voice bounced in a lonely tone off of the stone walls.
“You’re awake.” His voice came from behind to slide over her like a warm blanket of comfort.
She could smell him before he even came into view. It was a clean, wet scent. Obviously, he’d just bathed. Her suspicions were confirmed when she saw him. He strode across the room carrying a small plate in one hand and a goblet of wine in the other. He was naked save for the water droplets that ran in rivulets through the creases in his skin. His hair was wet, and the heavy black waves fell just below his shoulder blades. Her eyes widened, as if that would allow her to take more of him in. She wanted to study every bit of him, but when he turned to look at her, her face flushed red and she looked away.
“Are you hungry?”
She almost laughed. He stood there completely nude, but didn’t even seem to notice as he nonchalantly offered her breakfast. “Very,” she choked.
“Good.” He smiled with a boyish grin that made him appear excited that he’d pleased her. He crossed the room and sat down beside her on the bed. She wanted to sit up, but remembered the restraints and winced.
“Cianan?” she whispered.
“What?” he answered back, mirth playing at the corners of his mouth as he tried not to smile.
“Could you?” Her cheeks burned again at lying so helpless before him. She wondered what this new game could mean.
“Could I?” he taunted. Though he teased her, his tone was so warm that the tiny bubble of dread soon dissipated.
She didn’t want to respond, but pulled at the bonds and stared up at him with pleading eyes.
He smiled wickedly and shook his head. “I don’t want you doing anything, my love. This time it is I that will serve you.” He pulled a pillow from behind his back and arranged it under her shoulders, propping her up comfortably. “Let me take care of you.”
“But what about Anya?” She cast her eyes down at herself, splayed naked and exposed across the bed.
“Anya knows better than to barge into my chamber unannounced. Relax, little one.” When Sascha was properly reclined, Cianan offered her one of the berries from the plate he’d brought. Cautiously, she opened her mouth, waiting for the first taste. She felt his fingers against her lips as he opened her mouth a little wider than the smooth skin of the fruit. He played it gently against the inside of her lip before commanding her softly to bite. She obeyed and the tiny fruit burst open on her tongue, spilling its syrupy nectar into her mouth. The taste was so sweet that she squinted against the rush of liquid at the back of her jaw. “Does it please you, little one?”
Sascha opened her eyes and nodded. Her silence was met with a sharp pinch at her nipple. She cried out at the unexpected pain. Her nipples were still sensitive from his kisses and bites.
“Always answer me, little one,” he said gently.
“Yes, my lord.” Sascha sniffled.
He smiled again and offered her a sip from his goblet. At first she felt silly and childish, taking food and drink from his hands like some sort of pet, but after a while it seemed natural. Even sweet that he would desire to serve her in such a way. She took another piece of the fruit from his fingertips, but it was so
ripe that the purplish juice burst in her mouth, spilling from the corner and dribbling onto her chin. She remembered their first dinner encounter together and cringed at the memory of his harsh words. “I’m sorry, my lord,” she stammered.
He chuckled softly. “Such a messy, little slave.” Leaning forward, he flicked his tongue over her chin, collecting the droplets that had escaped and kissing away the moisture. “Though I can’t be annoyed with your crudity. Everything tastes so much sweeter from your skin.” He took another berry and squeezed it gently, letting the syrupy fluid drip onto her chest. It was cold and Sascha flinched when it trickled into the well between her breasts.
“I’ll be all sticky, my lord.” She giggled then gasped as he began to lap at the skin.
“I won’t mind bathing you.” He popped the squished berry into her mouth. The sweetness again made her eyes flutter, and she let out a soft groan. She wasn’t used to such delicacies. When she opened her eyes, he was grinning broadly.
“Do I amuse you, my lord?” she asked timidly.
“In every way, Sascha. Everything seems to be so much richer for you. You’re like a child. Everything is so new to you.”
“Perhaps I had not begun to live before I met you, my lord,” she whispered, offering her lips.
He edged up on the bed, accepting her kiss eagerly. She could feel his cock pressing against her center as he pulled her body tight against his. It was stirring with renewed arousal. She groaned, straining against her bonds. She wanted so badly to touch him, to wrap her arms and legs around him and lose herself in his embrace. She wanted to pull him inside of her and hold him there until she felt that completeness again. But the bonds wouldn’t allow it. They held her in such a way that her sex was fully exposed and splayed open beneath him. It afforded a delicious friction against his body that was bordering on torture.
In another instant, he broke their kiss, and she felt him lean away from her again. “Have you had your fill, my love?” he asked, his voice husky and slow like warm honey.
She started to nod, but remembered his warning. “Yes, my lord. But could I have a little more to drink?”
“Of course,” he replied, bringing the cup to her lips.
She drank deeply, her mouth so dry from his kisses and heavy sleep. The flavor was sweet and the more she tasted, the more she wanted until she was swallowing greedily.
“Easy, love.” He slowly took the goblet away. “The sweetness of the wine will make you ill.” He leaned over her again, his eyes alighting on her pale shoulder. “You spilled a little,” he said before flicking his tongue along her skin to gather the drops of fluid. He made a low rumbling sound as he savored the taste of the wine. The sensation made her body shudder involuntarily. “Exquisite.”
Taking the cup loosely between his fingertips, he tipped it slightly, letting the liquid drip slowly down the valley between her breasts. She gasped and squirmed, the liquid so cold goose bumps popped out across her chest and down to her belly, but the bonds kept her held firmly against the bed. She could only close her eyes lazily and surrender to the feeling of his warm, wet tongue lapping at the streaks of moisture that ran into the crease between her breasts.
“Cianan,” she whined, straining against the bindings to arch into his caress.
He didn’t answer, but tipped the goblet once more, this time pouring the cool wine into the well of her navel then leaning down to catch it before it overflowed onto the sheets. He suckled at her skin until she was moaning softly.
“I’m not sure I’ll ever be satisfied again without the taste of your body on my tongue, Sascha.” Suddenly, a look of what could only be described as pure mischief crossed his brow. “I think I should like to taste all of you.”
Her eyes went wide as his meaning dawned on her. His eyes never left hers as he taunted her, swinging the cup back and forth as it dangled between his fingers. “Cianan,” she whispered again, sounding both apprehensive and intrigued.
He raised an eyebrow and brushed the edge of the pewter goblet against the exposed mound of flesh covering her sex. Sascha bit her lip, not wanting to cry out, but barely containing it. The bite of the metal edge cut straight to her core. With a careful turn of his wrist, he let a couple of drops fall into the light patch of feathery down at her center. Again, she shivered, the coolness of the wine a shock to her system. He observed every reaction, studying closely and smiling to himself. Another slow dribble slid from the crest of her hood and into the crook where her thigh met her torso. It tickled and she almost laughed until he caught the drops with the tip of his tongue. The muscles of her thigh pulled taut, bracing against the gentle torture. With his other hand, he stroked along the lips of her sex and she moaned, struggling against the silky ropes. His calloused fingertips opened her sex and delved inside. They fluttered playfully around her opening until she was arching her body higher, her bonds pulling at her almost painfully. She moved her hips, desperately grinding against his hand. But he wouldn’t give into her just yet. The pads of his fingertip found the tiny hidden nub of her clit and gave it a sharp pinch that left her gasping.
“Oooh... Cianan...” she cried. “My master...” Her voice trailed off in an incoherent symphony of sighs and whimpers.
His gentle manipulations became increasingly rough and insistent, as if he were forcing her sexuality to the surface. He played her body like a complicated and temperamental instrument. He stopped suddenly, leaning over her until his face hovered above her center so close that she could feel his warm breath licking at her skin.
She stared down at him, wondering with an overwhelming anticipation what he would do next. He set the goblet beside her, precariously balancing it against her hip. Taking two fingertips, both still sticky with her juices, he dipped them into the goblet. Bringing them up, he let the liquid trickle down his fingers and onto the hood of her sex below. Over and over he did this until she felt quite wet between her legs, the wine running into her opening. She groaned softly, biting her lip to keep back the noise.
“I’m going to be all sticky.” She sighed.
“Not if I can help it,” he said before closing his mouth over her sex. Sascha raised herself off of the bed with a shriek as the pleasure of his intimate kiss mingled with the pain of the silken rope cutting into the skin of her wrists. Her legs were free enough to allow her to raise her knee, gaining enough leverage to push her cunt eagerly against his mouth. She winced, expecting him to push her away, but instead, he met her impatience with more passion. His tongue flickered against her opening, clearing away the drops of red wine before they could leak onto the sheets. He made a purring sound, savoring the taste of the wine mingled with the salty fluids that clung to her skin. “And I won’t mind bathing you,” he purred, making a show of licking his lips.
With his free hand, he opened the petals of her sex and held the cold goblet close to her clit until the sensitive flesh prickled and swelled. Then, in a movement that Sascha could never have anticipated, he poured wine directly on the taut, little button. She did cry out this time, straining against the silken ties until the flesh around her wrists and ankles burned. Quickly, before any of the liquid could be wasted, he leaned over and lapped at her sex hungrily. But when the bittersweet wine was gone, he wasn’t sated. Using his fingertips again, he held her opening wider before pushing his tongue into her. A guttural moan escaped her lips as he thrust the small muscle deeper inside. He used his tongue like a tiny cock, stroking it in and out in a parody of things to come.
“Ooooh...” She groaned unintelligibly, trying to move her hips in time with his rhythm with little success. “My master....” Her words slurred together as she gave in to him. His lips, teeth, and tongue all conspired to bring her screaming to the precipice of her orgasm, but he wasn’t ready to let her go just yet. He pulled back a little, only allowing himself small kisses up and down the tiny slit until her breath slowed, then using his fingertips again to press deeply inside before devouring her again. “Master!” she screamed again
, her world becoming a blinding white as her climax came upon her suddenly. But he didn’t withdraw. Instead, he held her down with a firm hand on her pelvis and drank his fill of her nectar.
All too soon he pulled away, blazing a trail of kisses along her belly and upwards toward her throat. Again, she pulled at the bonds. She desperately wanted to embrace him. “Please, Cianan,” she begged, her voice still rasping from her orgasm. “I need to touch you. Please release me.”
His eyes sparkled with mischief and lust. “I like the way you beg.”
She whimpered, and he silenced her with another searing kiss. His lips pulled at her breath and as his tongue mingled with hers, she could taste the wine and her own spicy flavor. It was intoxicating and sensual. It made her ache with want for him.
His mouth never left hers as he reached behind and tugged the knot at her ankles, freeing them easily. She sighed against him, relieved to be able to move again. Once both legs were free, he pulled them around his waist, tilting her forward and driving into her with a sudden force that she hadn’t been prepared for. She cried out, her fingers gripping the silky rope tight. She was still sore from the previous night’s exertions, but she couldn’t deny her desire. She arched against his body, meeting each of his thrusts with a perfect beat. It was as though he could read her mind, knowing when she was so close then slowing his movements to make her wait. She whimpered softly into his ear, a breathless whisper that pleaded for release. He slowed to ceasing, his cock poised at her entrance. She squirmed and writhed, trying to pull him into her fully, but to no avail. He was enjoying the tease.
“Tell me you love me,” he purred, reaching between them to brush the tip of his member against the throbbing button at the crown of her sex.
“Yes.” She moaned. “Yes, Cianan, please.”
Beast of Burden Page 15
