Claimed by the General

by Sara Fields

  “Keep an eye out, my lord, and see if we cannot persuade him. Do what you think is right, and what is best for the empire. Those are your orders. Take whatever money you need.”

  “Yes, my king,” Lord Eiotan responded, bowing his head. They were led out of the king’s chambers to the front gate, where they found Cortés waiting for them.

  “My friends!” he exclaimed. “You two look lovely on this fine day.”

  Ayala smiled at him, hiding her suspicion at his very happy demeanor.

  “You two sure know how to show a man a good time. And I hope you weren’t too hard on your little bride, Lord Eiotan. I must say, she looks ravishing in red.” His eyes lingered on her bust before making his way down her hips to her small feet wrapped in her slippers. Cortés quickly snapped his eyes up and met her gaze, a hungry look edging into his features.

  Ayala held her smile, schooling her emotions almost effortlessly.

  “Lord Cortés, it’s lovely to see you. And my husband dealt with me as he must, as a woman sometimes needs to be taken in hand.” She paused as she blushed, embarrassed she was admitting her indiscretions to this man. She told herself it was necessary and that she needed to find out Cortés’ true intentions for her city, for her, and for her lord. She would do whatever she must, even if it meant flirting shamelessly with this awful man.

  Cortés’ evil grin grew to even bigger proportions upon her admission. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. She played into it as best she could, letting a hand fall to her still sore bottom. His eyes watched her, hungry.

  “So, Cortés, my lord informs me that you want to visit the markets, and watch our special ball game, is that right?” she said, trying to steer the conversation in a safer direction, yet still batting her eyes at him flirtatiously.

  “Yes, of course. I would like to see what sorts of wares are sold within your street markets. Lead the way, Lady Ayala,” Cortés said. After clearing his throat, his eyes lingering on her, he gestured for her to guide him.

  Ayala gracefully took Lord Eiotan’s arm and started walking in the general directions of the market.

  “Lord Cortés, are you looking for anything in particular at the markets?” she asked, careful to keep her curiosity quelled to a minimum.

  “Well,” he pondered. “I would like to look upon all sorts of jewelry and gold that is for sale. I want to see what kinds of weapons the common folk have, and I would love to see clothes and leathers, so that I might adorn some of the native wares.”

  “Our markets have the finest goods for many, many miles, my lord,” she responded.

  “She’s right,” Lord Eiotan said. “Our wares are most definitely the most grand in the land of Mexico. You will enjoy yourself.”

  The market was very close to the palace, so the three made it there in short time. The market square was bustling with people. Sellers were calling out their wares, buyers were buying, and children were running and playing. It was the center of Aztec life.

  Cortés’ eyes grew large as he took everything in, watching the people and checking out all the goods for sale. He quickly narrowed in on a table adorned with silver and gold. There was jewelry and silverware, along with silver plates and goblets. His fingers traced the precious metal and a hungry look came over him.

  “How common is gold and silver here, Lord Eiotan?” he asked nonchalantly, a finger hesitantly touching a heavy gold necklace.

  “Fairly commonplace. You can always find it at the market, Lord Cortés,” he responded.

  “Would you agree, seller?” Cortés questioned.

  The man selling the goods nodded, his eyes flicking back and forth between Cortés and Eiotan. He had long dark hair, deep brown eyes, and a small frame. His skin was dark and a bit leathery, like he had spent most of his youth working out in the sun. Ayala guessed he was about middle-aged. Her eyes carefully watched all three men.

  “I would agree, sir. But I know where to find the best gold, the best mines for silver too. I know the best people, therefore, I sell the best gold and silver,” the seller said confidently. Cortés observed the man rather coldly.

  “Lord Cortés, let me pick out a piece for you, as a gift from Lady Ayala and me. Anything on the table. It would be my pleasure,” Lord Eiotan insisted, positioning himself closer to the table in order to get a better look at the goods being sold. He began to point out a few things.

  “Why, thank you, Eiotan,” Cortés responded. “Seller,” he paused, “which piece is your favorite? Most representative of your culture, you’d say?”

  The seller’s eyes grew large as he focused on the table, his gaze roaming over his goods. He lifted his hand and settled it on an ornate gold necklace with a golden pendant engraved with Moctezuma’s portrait.

  “This one here, sir. It showcases our king. And on the back of the pendant, our great holy temple is carved into it.”

  Lord Eiotan bought the piece for Cortés after a bit of haggling, and he put the heavy gold chain over his neck. He picked up the pendant and admired it.

  “Thank you, Lord Eiotan, Lady Ayala. I will remember this.” Cortés said gratefully.

  They passed the next few hours looking at various vendors. Cortés and Eiotan both picked up a few things, and they together picked out a pretty lavender-colored fabric in order to make an elegant dress for Ayala.

  The last stop for the group of three was a leathers table. Big pieces of leather hides adorned the table, and there were smaller pieces, which Ayala figured were pieces of clothing, such as loincloths, and capes to keep a person warm at night.

  A small, thin strap, used for sharpening knives and razors, caught Lord Eiotan’s attention and he reached out to touch the soft leather. Cortés noticed this, and asked him if he needed to sharpen some knives, casting a suggestive glance in Ayala’s direction. Lord Eiotan smirked.

  “I always have knives in need of sharpening, Cortés; it’s amazing how dull they get so quickly,” he said while holding Ayala’s gaze. She paled as he took it into his hands, snapping it against his thigh.

  Ayala knew better than to say a word, so she stayed silent. If she argued with him now, the likelihood that he would spank her in the market again was extremely high. She tried to look interested in the other pieces of hide on the table, nervously peeking at the men chatting beside her. Butterflies twirled around in her belly as she realized money was exchanging hands.

  Lord Eiotan and Cortés were murmuring in hushed tones, when Cortés called her over to them. He asked her to hold out her hands, and when she complied, he placed the strap in them.

  “Lady Ayala, this is my gift to you. May it be used to sharpen knives regularly, more than it must be used to redden your naughty backside,” he said devilishly.

  Lord Eiotan had laughter in his eyes as he watched a deep blush rise from her chest to the cheeks of her face. Her mouth opened slightly, speechless. He walked over to her and closed her fingers around the strap.

  “The correct answer is thank you, Ayala,” he said gently.

  “Thank you, sir,” she whispered, barely audible.

  Cortés laughed heartily and clapped Lord Eiotan on the back. “Come, I’ve had enough shopping for a while! Let us go watch the games,” he said excitedly.

  Unnerved, Ayala followed the men as they made their way to the arena. They were ushered into the king’s special section and sat down. Moctezuma was already there, waiting for them.

  Ayala smiled at the king and bowed her head in respect to him. She turned her eyes back to the game and watched as the players lined up on either side of the field. The game was called ullamaliztli, and the game grounds were surrounded by the palace and temple. It was the place to be this evening, as the seats were quickly filling as the evening went on. Nobles, commoners, and judges filled the area meant for spectators. Along the walls were beautiful painted reliefs of the past winners, and even past losers.

  Ayala gazed upon the court itself. It was in the shape of a capital I and was about one hundred and fif
ty feet long. Around the court were sloped flat areas leading up to very high walls. In the center of these high walls were two stone-carved rings, only about thirty-five inches in diameter, one on each side. Animals were carved into the rings, providing blessings from the gods.

  The ball had been placed in the center of the court. It was made of a hard rubber substance and was really heavy, at least to Ayala. She had held one once, and it had been about nine to ten pounds. This game was not an easy one.

  She gazed upon the players lined up along either side of the field. They were all men, and heavily muscled. Had she been standing next to them, they would have towered over her. They all wore protective gear on their thighs, hips, hands, and even their chins. Their gear was made out of deerskin, and made the players look hard and almost ready for battle. Their muscles rippled in anticipation of the rough game ahead.

  The goal of the game was to get the heavy ball through the stone hoop, but there were many rules that made this exceedingly difficult. Players could not touch the ball with their hands, but had to use feet, elbows, hips, knees, and even their heads to do this. Another rule was that the ball was never allowed to touch the ground.

  It was extremely difficult to get the ball through the hoop, so there was a plethora of other ways each team could score. There were markers along the sides of the walls that they could hit with the ball, or they could be given points for strategic plays. Players could be fouled as well. But still, sometimes the games went on for hours.

  Ayala looked away from the field and watched Cortés, the king, and her lord. She watched as they whispered amongst themselves, pointing at men on either team, and she eventually saw money exchanging hands. She figured they were probably gambling and placing bets on the team they expected to win. When Cortés pointed toward her, she tried to listen, but the background noise was too loud for her to pick up what they were saying.

  Lord Eiotan looked at her, and then at Cortés, his face hardening. He nodded, very slightly, and a grin passed over Cortés’ face. Ayala gave Eiotan a confused look, and he shook his head when he met her eyes.

  She turned back to the game as the crowd roared. It must be starting.

  She tried to pay attention as the men ran up and down the court, passing the ball with anything but their hands. The men were surprisingly very skilled, and the ball didn’t touch the ground once. She found her focus drifting to her lord and the manipulator, Cortés, both of whom were casting heavy, satisfied glances in her direction.

  She wondered what each had wagered, and what that would mean for her. Would Lord Eiotan want to be rid of her? What would he have agreed to that made Cortés so happy?

  The game passed slowly for Ayala as she tried to rack her brain and figure out what the men had bet, but to no avail. She would not find out until the game was over.

  She finally gave up and paid attention to the match. The players were falling on the ground and pushing each other to get to the ball. The gameplay was vicious, and many men would spill blood during the game, if they hadn’t already. A few had dark bruises that were beginning to form on some of their limbs from the effort to keep the ball in the air.

  She asked the king a few questions about the gameplay in an effort to learn more about various rules. Finally, when she could quell her curiosity no longer, she softly thanked the king and made her way over to sit closer to Lord Eiotan.

  He moved over and shared the small bench seat he was sitting on. She reached and took his hand in hers, needing the little reassurance. Her curious eyes took in his.

  “Is everything alright, sir?” she whispered softly, laying her head on his shoulder.

  “Everything is fine, dove. There isn’t anything to worry about. Just a simple bet between men,” he responded softly, so that only she could hear.

  The crowd roared as a point was made.

  Ayala lifted her head and began to pay closer attention to the match. Servants brought everyone in the king’s section some sweet red wine, and she gulped it down. Before she knew it, she was sipping the remnants of her second glass.

  Cortés leaned in toward her, asking if she would like a refill. She nodded her head, smiled at him, and thanked him. Cortés called over a servant and ordered him to refill Ayala’s wine goblet. Quickly, the servant grabbed a jug and refilled her glass almost to the brim.

  She looked at him and Cortés wide-eyed, and turned back to look at Lord Eiotan. He was watching her with narrowed eyes. She giggled and squeezed his hand.

  “Don’t be mad at me, sir. This wine is delicious! Would you like some?”

  Lord Eiotan took her glass from her and took a big sip. He held her gaze the entire time.

  “My wife is going to be on her best behavior, isn’t that right? I wouldn’t want to have to spank her here in the arena, would I?” he said softly, but sternly.

  Ayala gulped and hid her face in his shoulder, a blush hopelessly engulfing her face.

  “No, sir. I’ll be good. Please don’t spank me,” she pleaded.

  Lord Eiotan smirked a little and continued sipping Ayala’s wine. She didn’t fight for it back, not wanting to earn a punishment here in the arena. She kept imagining him pulling her over his lap and baring her bottom for everyone to see. The humiliation would almost be worse than the spanking itself, but then she glanced at his big hands. Those hurt very much on her bare cheeks.

  Lord Eiotan caught her staring at his hands. He snaked a hand behind her neck and grabbed a chunk of her hair. He pulled and she gasped. Eiotan brought his lips to her ear and began to whisper.

  “If you are very good today, I will reward you when we get home. I will tell you to disrobe the moment we walk in the door, and report to my bedroom. I will put you over my knee and make your bottom a lovely pink. And then, well,” he paused, “you’ll just have to wait and see.”

  A soft moan escaped her lips and Eiotan released her hair, petting it back into place.

  She did her very best to sit still and pay attention to the game after that, her mind still reeling from her lord’s promise of a fun night to come.

  A few hours passed and the sun began to set. Lord Eiotan had shared the wine with Ayala, making sure she didn’t gulp down too much in the heat of the day. Periodically, he would softly kiss her cheek, making a smile cross over her lips and a soft blush creep up her neck.

  Finally, the crowd began to roar again. Ayala perked up as the players passed the ball to one another. One of the biggest players leaped up and kicked the ball, and it curved right into the hoop on the right side. Unbelievably, it sailed right through, unhindered.

  The crowd went wild, and a frown crossed Lord Eiotan’s face. Cortés jumped up and yelled in triumph. Eiotan looked back at him, and Ayala looked as well. What was happening?

  “Lord Eiotan, now that I have won the bet, I expect you to pay up.” Cortés said proudly. His eyes roved up and down Ayala’s body. Her eyes narrowed and she melted back into Lord Eiotan’s arms. What had Eiotan gambled?

  “Don’t worry, everything will be fine. Cortés is going to teach us to ride horses tomorrow. He has one small request, but it shouldn’t be too hard to appease him.” He smiled reassuringly.

  Ayala nodded. She trusted him.

  “May we go home now, sir? I’m pretty sure I behaved all day,” she said, smiling mischievously at Lord Eiotan. He took her hand and led her away from the king’s seating area. They said their goodbyes, and at last, they made their way home.

  Chapter Eleven

  When Ayala and Eiotan walked in the door, he told her to stay still. She stopped and heard the door click shut. As he came up behind her, his deft fingers began to unlace the back of her dress. She stood still for him and closed her eyes, as her dress loosened and began to fall away from her body. Eiotan pushed the soft fabric down her shoulders so that her upper body was bare. His hands trailed down her arms as he undressed her. He made short work of her dress, pushing it down and over her hips to the floor.

  She carefully stepped out of
her dress when he indicated, and he took it and placed the dress on the back of one of the kitchen chairs. He knelt and picked up her small feet, pulling off her small black flats as well. Soon, she was standing before him in only her panties.

  Eiotan took her hand, led her down the short hallway to his bedroom, and opened the door. Silently, he led her over to the bed, her bare feet plodding behind him. He sat down on the edge and quickly pulled her over his knees. She was able to comfortably lie her upper body and head down on the bed.

  Eiotan positioned her so that her bottom was angled as high as it could be. He rested a hand on her panty-clad bottom and gently massaged the waiting globes. Ayala quivered at his touch as she waited for him to spank her. His fingers slid to the waistband of her panties and slowly tugged them down so that she was bare to his view. He dragged them down to her knees and trailed his fingers up her legs, brushing her inner thighs before coming back to her bottom.

  Ayala blushed, even though he had seen her bottom many times before. She remembered how he had punished her with his hand, and all the various implements he owned. She remembered watching him take off his belt, and how he had strapped her with it, and felt herself growing warm at the thought.

  He loved her and cared for her, and had taken the time to teach her. She settled into his embrace and awaited his touch, his firm hand on her ever-waiting backside.

  When the first spank finally fell, she gasped. It felt like it shook her to her very core. She arched her back and presented herself to him, and he spanked her again. The swats came more and more frequently, but they didn’t really hurt. Instead, a fire began to brew deep in her belly as she moaned. Eiotan stopped spanking her and massaged her bottom. He brushed the tips of his fingers against the lower curve of her bottom, and allowed his finger to dip between her thighs.

  Ayala shook at his touch, slowly opening her legs, allowing his touch. His fingers slid across her nether lips, wet with her lust and excitement. They found her little bud and began to circle. Her moans deepened as the speed of his circles increased. She arched into his touch, begging him silently to touch with more pressure, to go a little faster. The fire grew within her until it became overwhelming.