by Terri Pray
“Do you remember her name?”
“Mystic she called herself. Mystic Blue. Right funny name if you ask me.”
Her heart sank into the pit of her stomach.
Her sister. Her own damn sister. How could he do this? It just wasn't right. First one sister, then the other? At least Davien had never gone that far, in fact he'd turned Blue down rather than bed the woman, had he seen something dangerous in her? Or just the fact that she was not his type of woman. She knew he'd explained it to her once before.
“When was she here?”
“She only left three days ago.” The cook returned to the table, setting down a heavy mug of tea, milky and sweet, and a plate with cold roast beef on it, an apple and some bread. “Hope she won't be back. It's the third or fourth time she's been around here. Hate it when she puts in appearance, always lording it over the rest of us.”
That fitted her sister's attitude all too well. Did she dare mention that the woman had been her kin? No, it was best to keep silent about that unless Tearlach brought it up. She reached for the tea and took a sip, nodding her thanks to the cook. The beef tasted good, damn good, she'd missed simple fare like this and planned on making the most of it. Who knew for certain just how long it would be before Tearlach woke up and demanded her presence, nude and kneeling at his feet?
Better to try and relax, enjoy the moment whilst she still could.
* * * *
Celeste took a deep breath and walked back into the large bedroom, taking the five paces into the room before she hit the edge of the rug and eased to her knees, her gaze lowered, hands resting on her lap.
“Good, right on time.” Tearlach's brogue played through her senses, filling her with a sense of longing for home. But this time it didn't offer her any form of comfort, just a sick, knotting in the pit of her belly. “You slept well, lass?”
“Yes, Master. Thank you.” The word master all but stuck in her throat, but she wasn't about to let this get the better of her. She could pull this off, live through what he wanted her to do, and hope, wait for the time when Davien would come for her.
If he came for her.
“Good, best you're rested well before we make a start. And you've eaten?”
“Yes, Master.” Odd, she hadn't expected him to care either way about her health. He hadn't appeared to have cared one way or the other the previous night, in fact she'd been sent to sleep, aching, dirty and worn out.
“On your feet, wench.” He nodded, walked across the room from where he had stood near the fire. “I want a better look at you.”
She rocked softly to her feet, her white blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders. The short chemise covered her to just above her knees, her head slightly bowed as she waited for him. Just what did he want right now?
He pushed his fingers under her chin, lifting her head up, his dark eyes staring into hers. “I can see why he wanted you. You're a rare one. The color of the moon in your hair, and eyes— eyes of ice. You set a man to burn or freeze him with a single look.”
She wasn't about to deny that, she'd done both in her past, and didn't doubt she would do it again if given the chance. She had the strength, she just had to use it and find a way to never let it be taken from her.
“You served Davien well?”
“I tried to Master. On occasions I failed and he didn't hesitate in correcting me when the need or lack arose.” She spoke softly, a slight tremble in her voice. “I will do my best to serve you well, also, Master.”
“Good, because I will do no less than Davien, best you remember that. If you think that the fact we are both Irish will protect you from my anger should you displease me, then I caution you to think again.” His hand still remained under her chin, keeping her face lifted up. “I'm no soft touch, little whore.”
She trembled, openly, under his touch. No, there was a dangerous streak about this man. Not his coldness, but his sudden change in moods, she'd seen enough of him to recognize that streak. A man like this had little, or no, control over his moods and that meant she'd be vulnerable. And not just in the way she had been under Davien's control. She'd become used to accepting the orders of her Master, but being at the whim of someone's uncontrollable mood swings, did not appeal to her.
She could half imagine that she'd be punished for things that weren't even her doing. Or growled at for something she couldn't handle, or wasn't in control of. Not pleasant. Not in the least bit.
Not a situation she enjoyed even the thought of.
A man like this could beat her to the floor and kill her just because his mood had turned and she'd not walked in the right way, or served him quickly enough. That thought locked a cold band about her heart.
“You will learn my ways, little slut, and that includes shaving your mound. I prefer a woman to be bare there. That you will learn to do, though at first I'll have the serving girl help you out. I'm not sure I trust you with anything sharp in your hands right away.”
She couldn't blame him there, though the thought of being shaven left her with an oddly uncomfortable sensation. She was a grown woman, why did she have to look as though she hadn't even stepped out of her childhood? Somehow, she managed to keep her questions from flashing across her face, or locked behind her lips. He wasn't the sort of man that wanted to hear endless questions from a woman.
“You will obey. Instantly. When given an order from me, and you will not serve another without my direct instructions. They will not be given through a third party. I alone master you, no one else.” He traced the tips of his fingers over her cheek then lifted his hand away, pulling back from her face only to lash out across her cheek with a sharp slap that sent her tumbling to the floor.
Bright lights danced before her eyes, she whimpered, tasting blood on her lips as she pressed her hands against the floor. Her cheek throbbed from the strength of the blow and she tried to shake her head, wanting to clear the painful fog that now clouded her mind.
“You're wondering why I struck you.” He reached down, tangling his finger into her hair, pulling her to her feet. Not caring that she arched and cried out in pain, struggling to follow his tugs until she stood up. He shook her hard before he forced an arch into her back, tipping her head back, until she was helpless, half on her toes, relying on the painful grip in her hair to prevent herself from falling to the floor. “It's very simple slut. To remind you just who you answer to. Now. And always.”
CHAPTER THREE
Celeste swallowed hard, looking up at him, her vision still dazed. Violence, pure violence vibrated from this man. She couldn't ignore it, or him, no matter how she wanted to. She curled her fingers into her palms, trembling, half expecting to be struck again.
“Now, on your knees and crawl to the bed, slut.” He threw her to the floor, his mood shifting again.
Her hands skinned across the floor and she whimpered in pain, her lips still coated with blood as she struggled up onto her hands and knees quickly. She was still seeing almost double, but she knew which way the bed was and quickly began to crawl toward it. Her breasts pressed against the soft linen of the chemise she wore, all too well aware that it now bunched about her hips, baring her ass to his view. She wasn't sure if she was even able to think straight but she still crawled toward the bed, waiting at the foot of it, her head lowered, breathing hard as she tried to focus once more.
“Kneel, with your head to the floor and thighs spread.”
She didn't even hesitate a moment as she pressed her left cheek to the floor, her hair tumbling fully over her face, half covering it. Her thighs tightened as she knelt there, the rug beneath her cheek, digging into her skin. She didn't dare move until he told her to. Her core rippled, despite everything her body reacted to his orders, even to his cruelty and for that she could blame Davien. He'd trained her to react this way, to become heated, hungry and needy under the command of a man who knew what he wanted.
She felt the floor move as he walked toward her, heard the sound of the floorboards creakin
g under his steps. Her heart skipped a beat then began to pound against her rib cage. She knew what he wanted, her pain and sexual reactions, and she had no choice but to give him what he wanted.
Completely and utterly.
“Pretty little slut, all well-behaved and obedient.” He chuckled, leaning down as he traced his fingers over the curve of her ass before lifting his hand up and cracking it down against her bared bottom.
She blinked, arching with the strike, a cry torn from her lips. She whimpered, pressing her head back to the floor. Heat blossomed across her backside, and her cheek still throbbed from being struck to the floor. He traced light patterns across her backside, teasing her with the edge of his nails, scraping them over her heated flesh until she struggled to hold position.
Her breath caught in the back of her throat as she felt him lift up his hand, knowing, even without him speaking, that he was about to strike her again. His hand came down hard and fast on her backside, pain and heat rippling through her body, her nails pressed into the floor. She struggled against the urge to bite into her bottom lip, she didn't need to give him even more reasons to punish her.
Not a mistake she was going to make.
His hand cracked down again and again on her backside, her breath coming in long gasps of pain, her knees threatening to buckle as she cried out with each blow. She wanted to curl up, hide from his hand, from the blows that tried to knock her down, but somehow she managed to stay in position, shuddering with the effort.
He pressed one finger between her lower lips, chuckling as he felt the damp heat that now coated them. “Good little slut. It's easy to see you like this. You and I will get along very well indeed. Now. Up onto the bed. Spread your arms and legs out, but first, push one of the pillows beneath your hips, lift that ass up there. I'm going to want access to it.”
Like he had the night before?
Her stomach knotted. She'd soaked in a tub this morning and she could still feel the tenderness from the way he had used her. She could only hope he was looking to simply take her from behind when he was ready and not use her ass again.
And yet a part of her also wanted to feel his cock pressed against her tight, dark ring of muscle.
Shaking she clambered up onto the bed, her backside protesting with the heat and bruises she knew would be there before the end of the day. The bedding felt soft beneath her body as she pulled one pillow beneath her hips and stretched her body out to comply with his wishes.
He stalked about the bed, locking her in place with chain and leather cuffs, with barely enough slack in the chains to allow her to writhe a little on the bed. She tensed, testing the strength of the cuffs without moving too much. He had to have been expecting her to do that, but what happened next caught her off guard.
Something hard and flexible slashed through the air, cutting a line across her raised buttocks. She screamed, barely aware of what she was doing even as her mind quietly informed her that she'd been struck with a cane.
“Why did you test the bonds, slave?”
“I— I don't know Master. It's wh... ”
The cane slashed through the air a second time, striking hard and fast against her bared bottom. She sobbed, arching on the bed, the bonds holding her in place. Pain, she'd felt pain before, but not like this. She'd been branded, but no coal had been placed against her flesh. The welt seared across her body and she couldn't ignore it. She had no way of shutting it out, and she didn't understand why she'd been struck a second time. She'd been answering his question.
“Never do it again, slut. Is that clear?”
“Y— yes Master.” She sobbed the words out, trying to catch her breath. “I— I understand.”
“Good. I do not tolerate being questioned, in any form, by a slave.” His voice was cold, heartless as he threw the cane down on the bed, well within her line of sight. “Do it again and you'll not be able to sit for a month.”
She didn't doubt him, not after this.
Why had she ever thought he would help her? Or be someone she could love, spend time with, even look at being with for the rest of her life? Stupid, romantic notions. He was a thief and a bastard. The sooner she found a way to escape him, escape his touch, his control and his cruelty, the better it would be for her.
“Now that is dealt with we can move onto more interesting fun.” He stepped away from the bed, the sound of a chest being open. What was he doing now? She knew not to ask, even if she had thought there could have been some room to discuss matters with him, she now knew better. The two stripes of the cane still burned their devastating lines across her backside. No warm up. No pleasure. Simply pain and punishment.
Leather snapped through the air some distance away from the bed. She knew that sound. Multiple tails. A flogger. She tensed, waiting to feel it against her flesh, hearing him stalking back across the room.
“You know what this is, don't you slut?” He waved it close to her face, leaving her no choice but to be all too well aware of what he was about to use on her.
“Yes, Master.” Red leather, multiple flat tails, at least it wasn't braided, that was one blessing. She couldn't be certain what type of leather it was, but she knew the blades of the leather were neither wide, nor narrow, but somewhere in between.
It would hurt. That part she understood.
He stepped back from the bed, tracing the leather across her back. Even with the chemise in place she felt it. The she heard the growl as he realized he'd forgotten the cloth cover her body, however briefly. He reached down, his hand tightening in the back of her chemise, the cloth taut across her body for the span of a dozen heartbeats before it was ripped from her body. She yelped with the brute force of the chemise tearing across her body, her hands clenching into fists in the bedding, trembling as she was stripped with such a simple brutality.
The remains, tattered and useless, were thrown away.
“You will come to know what it is like to be caressed by my floggers, slave. You'll scream, protest, and eventually beg for more. Only when I think you are ready will I use your body in other ways, but by the time I do even that contact will bring you pain. This is your submission to me, this is how you will come to know me as your Master.”
Her heart sank into the pit of her stomach. Celeste closed her eyes, tense, fear gripping her totally.
Pain. He wanted her to feel pain unending. And know that he had the right to inflict it on her. Why? What had she done to offend him?
Then it hit her.
This wasn't about what she had done, or might do. It was about Davien. He wanted to wipe away the memory of the man who had claimed her, taken her as a slave, taken her maidenhead. He'd never understand that the mark Davien had placed on her was not one that could be simply wiped away by a wave of pain.
He'd marked her heart, her soul, and her mind.
The leather slapped through the air, multiple tails stinging against her bare back as she hissed, her eyes closed, hands clenched into the bedding beneath her. Heat more than pain rippled across her back, the leather dragged away as she tried to focus on her breathing, to find a way to let her mind drift away.
She almost relaxed before the next blow landed. A low yelp and hiss following the stroke of the leather. At first it wasn't too bad, in some ways the two strikes of the cane had helped, giving her a basis to build from. It hurt, those two welts hurt, but the strikes of the leather were nothing compared to those two earlier blows. Warmth followed each blow. A low stinging pain. Her muscles relaxed and she could almost imagine that she was being massaged.
But slowly the pain began to build up, the scrape of the leather added to her growing discomfort. She clenched her teeth, trying to push past it, but her back felt like a mixture of bad sunburn and someone taking sand to her back, rubbing it in over and over again. She tried to shift, to move away from the pain, but there was no escape from it. Not now.
“You feel it, don't you slut?”
She whimpered, her jaw clenched. The blows didn't knock t
he breath from her body, he wasn't striking with all his force, but she felt them now. The heat and pain washed down her back, over her buttocks and then between her thighs, pressing into her sex. She wriggled, trying to distract herself, but it didn't work and it brought a change in pace from the flogger.
He lifted it away from her body, before bringing it down, hard, across her back. Striking from shoulder to hip as she screamed out. She arched, trying to fight back against it, but her back, already tender and sensitive, screamed in pain from his new touch.
“Now you begin to understand just what you will go through.” His laughter rang in her ears. She couldn't shut it out. She had no way of stopping him. And she was left bound on the bed, waiting for the next blow to fall. “It begins for you.”
Begins?
Just how much longer was he planning on doing this to her?
She sobbed as he lifted it again, striking hard and fast across her back. She twisted as the blows landed, repeatedly, against her back. She couldn't fight, she couldn't hide, nor could she deny that her sex clenched with each new wave of pain that washed over her body. Celeste felt her nails dig into her palms, barely aware before that moment that she had turned them on herself instead of the bedding she was bound to.
The wave of blows moved lower, down her back to the curves of her already well marked buttocks.
She pleaded with him, begging for mercy, but it never came. She who had learned to endure Davien's cold, cruel touches, now pleaded with a man she knew to be less than him, lacking in control. Shame surged through her body, but it didn't stop the tumble of words that fell from her lips between her sobs of pain. He couldn't do this to her, yet how could she stop him.
“Who do you belong to, slut?” He lifted the flogger away from her body. “Tell me now. Who do you truly belong to?”
She tried to focus enough to speak. Her words trembling as she finally managed to do more than sob the words mercy master at him. “I— I belong to you, Master.”
