by Colette Gale
“Come out,” said Zenovia, and turned to walk away.
Jane hesitated for only a moment, then found a set of steps and slogged out of the pool. By the time she was standing on the tile, dripping, her lover had returned. She was wrapped in some fluffy white cloth, and she held a second one for Jane. It felt as if she were being enveloped in a cloud—it was soft and warm and seemed to draw every bit of moisture from her skin.
No sooner had Jane wrapped herself in the towel than Zenovia took her by the hand and brought her to the curtained side of the chamber—the area where, as Jane had suspected, there was a bed.
A large bed, half the size of the pool, piled with pillows and cushions, furs, and blankets, and enclosed by a filmy curtain. Zenovia pulled her down onto the surface, tossing the towels aside.
More? was all Jane could think, desperation and apprehension sizzling through her. She was exhausted, sore, and, beneath it all, distraught.
“You are everything I’d hoped for,” said Zenovia, reaching to fondle Jane’s breast. Her nipple tightened, hardening into a sensitive point, ready to be kissed and sucked and licked once more. When Zenovia saw the instant response, she chuckled softly and used her finger to brush lightly over the tip. “Magnificent.”
Jane shivered as the wide, sensual mouth lowered to her quivering breast. She couldn’t keep from arching in to the sleek tongue as it danced around the jutting point, and the familiar sweetness began to tingle in her belly, sweeping lower to her core. Zenovia fondled her breasts, holding them, weighing them in her palms as she kissed and licked each one in turn.
Then, when Jane was utterly aroused, her pip throbbing with readiness, her quim dripping with need, her lover pulled her down next to her on the bed…then rolled her beneath her. Rearing over her, Zenovia straddled Jane’s trembling belly, pressing her hot, wet pussy down over her mons and grinding herself deeply onto the hardness.
She groaned, grasping Jane’s breasts with two greedy hands, and rode on her, pushing and circling her soft, swollen cunt own and around as Jane shivered beneath her. The smell of musk filled the air, penetrating her senses and arousing her more deeply. Zenovia pinched her nipples, teasing them roughly between her fingers as she shifted back and forth faster and faster, pressing harder and harder, slipping over the cropped hair covering her pubis, drenching Jane with her juices.
“Uh!” she cried at last, shuddering to a climax on top of her. Jane felt the sharp pulsing against her skin, and when Zenovia reached behind to touch her angry little pip, it took only one stroke to make her come again—hard and sharp and quick.
Then, before either of them had recovered from the ride, Zenovia bent forward, bringing her breasts to Jane’s face. “Kiss me. Lick me. Taste me.”
Shocked and disturbed at the leap of lust jutting through her, Jane turned her face away…but Zenovia would have none of it. She took Jane by the chin and brought her back. “Kiss me, Jane. Do it. Taste me. I know you will like it.”
Jane shuddered, aware of the warm, soft, wet quim positioned on her belly…the musky scent from it…and she suddenly wanted to taste her there. Instead, she closed her eyes and tentatively kissed the thrusting nipple in her face. Soft, hard, pebbly…larger, thicker, more prominent than the one she’d licked and sucked on Zaren’s chest…
Zenovia trembled when Jane took her into her mouth, licking around the tip of her nipple as the woman had done to her. She tasted silky, salty flesh and felt a stab of arousal when her lover shuddered against her. Jane sucked harder, the heavy globe pushing into her face, and then nearly lost her grip, crying out when she felt Zenovia’s fingers slide up inside her pussy. The fingers worked as she sucked and licked, drawing the slender nipple deeply into her mouth…sucking hard, harder, sliding her tongue around and flickering it over the tip. Zenovia sighed, arching deeper into her face while pushing her cunt down hard on Jane’s belly. And then all at once, Zenovia turned around in a swift movement, straddling Jane from the opposite direction.
Her glistening labia rose over Jane’s face, and just as she lowered to her panting lips, Zenovia buried her face roughly in Jane’s pussy.
Jane couldn’t breathe, could hardly think as her world became heat and wet and musk, pleasure and salt and unique female essence. The mouth that ate at her made her writhe and cry into the lush red folds pressing down into her face, rubbing against her.
She tentatively flicked out her tongue, tasting salt and heat, and Zenovia cried out. She surged her hips sharply toward Jane’s mouth, wet and thick and musky, smothering her with her essence, grinding down into her lips and teeth. Jane couldn’t breathe, and didn’t understand the conflicting feelings erupting in her—arousal, delight, shame, confusion—and as Zenovia shuddered into a strong, wet climax, Jane twisted her face away, sobbing with confusion, desire, and exhaustion.
Her lover rolled off, leaving Jane pulsing and throbbing, with juices glistening on her face and quim, and in the place on her belly where Zenovia had sat.
“Gorgeous,” said the chieftain, surging down to capture Jane’s mouth with hers, cutting off her panting sobs. Musk against musk, their scents and tastes mingled in a heady, arousing essence as Zenovia kissed and licked the last bit of herself from Jane’s lips and face.
Then, as Jane lay there, panting and shaking, aroused and yet horrified, the chieftain kissed each breast softly, swirling her tongue around each angry red nipple until Jane was shivering and shifting with pleasure…then made a trail down Jane’s soft, trembling belly, pausing to lick up the last bits of her own dampness there…and then she went between Jane’s legs.
“Ohhhh…” Jane moaned, tears streaming from her eyes. “Please…” She arched a little, ready for the onslaught, the teasing, the furious stroking…but Zenovia settled in softly. She kissed, licked, coaxed…lapping and teasing almost lovingly until Jane slipped up and over the edge in a long, easy, beautiful climax.
And as Jane rode the wave, Zenovia licked and thrust and sucked gently, prolonging the pleasure until the last bit of orgasm slipped away.
Jane closed her eyes. She was hot and sticky and oh so sated. Sore. Gently throbbing with a reminder of everything that had happened. Strong hands pulled her close, and Zenovia gathered her up against her, arse to belly. She settled a hand over one of Jane’s breasts, just as Zaren would do when they slept together, and held her close. She stroked her hand along a hip, down over her belly, and found Jane’s pussy once more.
Jane stiffened and closed her eyes. Again? Surely not again…
But yes…it was as if those fingers couldn’t get enough of her. And, shamefully, Jane’s body could not be denied its pleasure. Zenovia lazily traced her fingers over the topmost part of Jane’s swollen labia, making a vee with two of them to slide down over the little hood that protected her pip, and Jane shivered when the familiar stab of lust arrowed down from her belly and centered there, where Zenovia touched her. Up and down, up and down, over and around the sensitive hood with the little pearl swelling beneath it. She heard her own wetness, slick and hot, lubricating the movement…the steady, even breathing of her lover…her own pulse thudding in her ears.
Struggling to keep from sobbing with pleasure and pleas to cease, Jane lay there on her side with the other woman’s strong, warm body gathered around her: breasts pressing into her shoulder blades, one strong thigh positioned over one of hers, a face buried in the nape of her neck.
Jane found herself immobile, captured, as those fingers stroked…teased…feathering over her. The heat blazed in her again as Zenovia kissed her neck, using her tongue to trace along the tendon of Jane’s throat, nibbling sharply at her shoulder…all the while stroking ever so gently, yet constantly.
“Come now, lovely Jane,” Zenovia whispered hotly into her ear. “Come with me…I love to hear you beg for it. I love the sound you make when you come, the expression on your face…come now and let me smell your juices again. I want to drink you dry.”
A tear leaked from Jane’s eye as she fou
ght to end the torture, fought to find the orgasm and have it done with…but the fingers that teased her seemed to linger, to slow, to draw out the moment. And then she stopped…those fingers stopped and settled right over her pussy. Flat and wide and still.
Jane made a soft sound of desperation and desire, and bucked against her hand. Zenovia’s powerful arms and legs tightened around her, holding her still. Her mons pressed hard into the small of Jane’s back, and she held herself there, rubbing in small, quick circles. “Ask me, Jane, and I will give it to you. Ask me.” She was a little breathless herself, and the rhythm from Zenovia’s own body only added to Jane’s frustration.
She bit her lip, utterly controlled by the demanding pulsing of her little pearl, the itchy, unfinished sensation of dissatisfaction, and the rhythmic jolting from behind. Jane drew in a deep breath. “Please,” she whispered. “Yes, please.”
She felt Zenovia smile into her hair. “Very good. Oh, yes…very…good…” she murmured, moving faster and harder against her. Then she slid her fingers up and inside Jane in a smooth, slick movement. Her thumb positioned over the top of the raging little kernel, pushing down with just the right amount of pressure, holding Jane still as she ground into her from behind…and she stroked deeply once, twice, and—
“Oh!” Jane cried out, more loudly than she intended…which resulted in a pair of teeth clamping down on her shoulder as Zenovia shuddered behind her. The orgasm ripped through Jane, leaving her legs weak and her entire body shaking. Lights flashed before her eyes, and her face was wet from tears of frustration and desire.
“Oh, yes. I shall most definitely keep you, Jane,” murmured Zenovia after several minutes, and she pressed a tender kiss beneath the hair at Jane’s temple.
Startled, Jane pulled out of her loosened grip. “No.” She submerged her fear and apprehension and scrambled from the other woman’s embrace, sitting up on the bed, and met Zenovia’s eyes directly. “You cannot keep me. I am a free woman, a peer of England, and I am married. I will not be your concubine.”
“No?” Zenovia looked at her, lifting an eyebrow. She sat up and reached to touch Jane’s hair, leaving the scent of her own quim there upon the curl. The earthy, feminine scent teased her with the memories of the last hours. “You do not wish to be my concubine? The most respected and honored woman in this court, besides myself, of course, and even then…I do believe I would adore you, Jane. I do believe I could be completely enraptured by you. You could own me if you wished.”
“No,” Jane said again. “Please understand. I have no dislike for you—”
“Well, that has certainly been most evident this night.” Zenovia gave a low, husky laugh. Her eyes glinted with heat. “By the gods, I can still smell you as if my face were buried in your cunt.” Her face narrowed and she reached for Jane yet again. “I’ll have you, my darling Jane. And you’ll enjoy it. Again and again…just as you have tonight.”
Jane moved out of reach, shaking her head. “No. I don’t want to stay here. I want to find my husband. I want to leave this place and return to England and find the man I love.” Tears threatened, making her voice shake. She steadied it. “I refuse to be your concubine.”
Zenovia’s expression turned cold. She sat up straight, and all the lust drained from her eyes. “Indeed. You refuse my offer—made with all respect and honor? Very well, then. If you will not be my concubine, you will then become my slave.”
— VI—
Clink.
Clink.
Clink.
Jane stood passively, fighting to keep her expression calm and her demeanor queenlike as the heavy brass cuffs were locked around her wrists and one ankle. Each cuff had a small hook on the outside, and they clicked into place with elegant, complicated latches.
Alena and another servant named Obelia worked silently with both efficiency and blank expressions as Zenovia watched from a large chair in her chamber. Jane refused to look at her, despite the fact that the woman’s heavy gaze had not left her naked body during the entire event. Instead, she held her head high as she had done when paraded through the jungle village by Cold Eyes.
I will find a way to escape. And Zaren is looking for me. It’s only a matter of time until he finds me.
Until then, Jane could hardly imagine any experience worse than what she’d encountered at the hands of Kellan Darkdale and his orgiastic cronies back in London. If she could live through that, she could live through anything.
Alena moved behind her, lifting the heavy hair from neck and shoulders as Obelia brought a wider, larger cuff forward. Jane stared straight ahead as they snapped it in place snugly around her neck. She swallowed hard and felt the chill of the metal, the weight of the necklet and its embrace against her skin.
“It becomes you, Jane darling,” said Zenovia. She rose from her chair, holding a large, dripping handful of golden jewelry. The servants stepped back, bowing their heads in obeisance as she approached Jane. Zenovia hesitated, then snapped her fingers.
Immediately, Alena and Obelia left the chamber.
Zenovia and Jane were alone. “Look at yourself.” Zenovia gestured to a tall mirror leaning against the wall. “Look at us…mistress and slave. The sun, being eclipsed by the moon.”
Jane did as she was bid, and was startled at the picture she made—the picture the two of them made together. It was as Zenovia said: the sun and moon, with the moon raging larger and more powerful than the sun for once.
Her hair fell in tangled, red-gold curls, tousled and full, tumbling over her shoulders and brushing her hips. Her soft skin glowed like dusky honey next to Zenovia’s sleek white flesh. Mistress loomed above and beyond slave, broad shoulders as wide as a man’s, her chin brushing the top of Jane’s fiery head. Zenovia’s blond hair had been caught up in a loose bundle, woven with colorless jewels that glittered like moonbeams. Silver cuffs studded with diamonds glinted at wrists and throat in cool contrast to the warm golden ones that imprisoned Jane. Her dark eyes held Jane’s in the mirror as she slid a pale hand down and around to cup a breast. Her thumb teased the nipple until it became hard and taut, a dark pink temptation in the midst of golden curves and fire.
Jane thought she felt a little shudder in the woman next to her, a soft sigh of regret…but Zenovia’s expression remained cool and remote.
Then she stepped around in front of her, lifting Jane’s chin with too-tight fingers. “It’s a shame it has to be this way, but at least you wear it well. And this…” She opened her hand to display a complicated mass of delicate chains and a curved, triangular metal piece. “This will ensure you remain firmly in your position as slave rather than lover. There is no pleasure for slaves, Jane.” Her smile was taut and cold, and gone was the light of humor and affection that had been there only hours earlier. “Only service.”
The chains rattled quietly, somehow ominous in the delicate sound, as Zenovia lifted them and separated out the strands. Jane’s heart thudded as the other woman began to fasten them around her hips, three on each side. The curious metal piece hung from the smaller chains, and when Zenovia fit it tightly over Jane’s quim, threading two more chains from the bottom of the piece between her legs, she realized exactly what it was.
A sort of chastity belt. A shield. A cage.
The chains were drawn tightly, and the triangular metal shield settled snugly over her netherlips in a little cuplike shape. There was a narrow slit in the center—large enough for her to urinate through, but without enough space for a finger or anything else to penetrate. Zenovia fastened all of the chains at the base of Jane’s spine, ensuring they were tight enough that she had no ability to slip a finger behind the shield. They bit gently into her hips and rode up through the crack of her arse. The metal triangle curved away from her swollen folds and pip, so even putting pressure on the shield itself would give no relief to a swollen, needy pearl. There was no way to touch herself…or for anyone else to do so.
For some reason, this terrified Jane more than anything else.
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When she finished, Zenovia came back around to look at her. Her wide, sensual mouth was set in an odd smile as she reached for the cuff around Jane’s throat, and there was another delicate jingle and a soft snick. Now, a sturdy golden chain hung from the collar. The end was wrapped around the chieftain’s hand.
“Now,” said Zenovia, shoving Jane to her knees, “pleasure me, slave.”
Jane hit the ground hard and nearly lost her balance, but she caught herself in time. Zenovia’s flat navel was directly in front of her eyes, and just below was the neatly trimmed blond hair growing in a triangle over her mons and down beneath, along the lips of her pussy. Her muscular legs spread wide, and Jane realized her mistress had settled herself onto the edge of a chair.
Her cunt was red and full and wet. Ready. The familiar scent of her sex was strong and alluring, and Jane’s clit gave an instant, impudent pulse. Heart thudding, knees shaking, Jane put a hand on each of Zenovia’s thighs, closed her eyes, and moved into the apex of her mistress’s legs. Her mouth watered at the smell as it enveloped her, and with a deep breath—not such a good idea, for the musky scent aroused her even more—she plunged in.
Zenovia jolted and sighed the moment Jane’s mouth touched her. Her thighs tightened then relaxed as Jane got to work, using her tongue to trace each soft fold of her labia, the tiny kernel of pleasure hooded above, and then tentatively slid into the hot, wet cavern below. She ate and sucked and licked, burrowing her face into the warm, sweet juncture of Zenovia’s thighs.
Jane was filled with a combination of guilt and horror as her body tightened, heated, dampened, pulsed as she licked wildly at the tiny little nub. She couldn’t ignore the sounds, the smells, the feel of Zenovia’s arousal, and it lit Jane with lust as well. By the time Zenovia surged up into her mouth, crying out in triumph and convulsing against Jane’s lips and tongue, her own quim was hot and full and dripping, and her breasts ached to be touched.
