Cushla inhaled heavily, and then exhaled the breath just as slowly as she had drawn it in. “Psychological, physical, it matters not. It’s invasive to have a man force his way inside of me when I have no desire for it.”
The slavemaster turned quickly, and without knowing his intent Cushla’s body tensed defensively. But when he merely tilted his head at an inquisitive angle and without moving toward her, she stared at him briefly and then continued, “I’ve never had the desire. So yes, it’s painful, but not in a way that you would even take a care to understand.”
Why was she compelled to tell him all of this? It wasn’t as if she expected any mercy from the slavemaster. Aside from that, she’d never known any man to forgo his lust for the sake of sympathy, particularly with a slave. And this slavemaster most definitely was feeling lust if the elongated bulge molded by his trousers was any indication.
He was definitely hard.
And thick.
More than ready to sink inside of her and stroke slowly…in and out, in and out and…
“Is this why you’re staring at my cock so ardently, because you’re afraid of it?”
Stars! Was she admiring his—hell pits no! Cushla’s sight snapped upward at his words.
He was smirking at her.
Was he suggesting she was eager for it? Am I? She went rigid from head toe. “I fear no man.” Her eyes dropped to his groin. She did not desire him. “Or malicious serpent.” When she realized where she was again staring, Cushla’s attention immediately reverted, returning to his face.
Amusement sparkled Tarken's eyes. “Perhaps once you and the malicious serpent have become acquainted, you’ll change your mind.”
His playful response encouraged Cushla to relax a bit. A smile attempted to force its way onto her lips—but no! She would not trust him. He hadn’t earned that from her yet.
Yet? No, she meant he would never earn it. “Only a fool would trust a snake.”
“You do realize, Cushla that your status as a slave nullifies your right to trust.” Tarken crossed one arm over the other, his expression matter-of-fact. “No master or owner will care if you do or don’t. You only serve a purpose, whether for labor or as a bed mate or whatever else you owner wishes to use you for. You’re a piece of property.”
* * * *
His words cut deep. Cushla’s face fell, her expression so despondent that Tarken almost felt badly for her…almost. He however, kept reality keenly in place. His job was to train her properly for the king.
She was a slave after all, and her belligerence was the first issue he would need to address.
“Cushla,” Tarken began. At least she seemed to have a sense of humor hiding beneath the surface. He didn’t miss the glint of a smile that graced her lips before at his teasing comment. If he could nurture that aspect of her instead of crushing her spirit, it would be better for her well-being in the long run. “I’m not the kind of trainer you think I am. Truly, I’m concerned that you make peace with your station and come to be content, maybe even happy with it.”
“As if I would believe that could happen. As if I would ever allow it to happen.” Cushla glared at him. “You haven’t a clue as to what this life of bondage is like and the things I’ve been forced to submit to.”
“I understand that many slaves are abused, and I’m sure you’ve been hurt by many things done to you,” Tarken returned. “It would be best for your well-being if you talked about them. Be assured that I’ll listen.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“I think you lie” Tarken retorted. “By the looks of the scars on you, I think there’s plenty to tell. At least they had enough sense to save your face. It is quite lovely.”
She crossed one adamant arm over the other, squashing to the underside of her breasts and causing them to rise. “As I said, slavemaster, there is nothing to tell.
“But if there was, you would tell me wouldn’t you, Cushla?”
“Probably not.” Cushla’s chin went up a notch.
He was amused by her posturing.
She stood straight with her head held high, looking rather dignified despite having not a stitch of clothing on. Dignity—she’d mentioned.
A being is nothing without a feeling of self-worth, even a slave. Tarken understood that need, though he couldn’t show compassion for it. To do so, would equate to a weakness and a sly slave would know how to take advantage of that. “I’ll ask anyway.”
“So ask then. I won’t answer.”
“Your station doesn’t have to be an unpleasant and lonely thing.” Tarken stepped closer to her. “It’s permissible for you to have friendships.”
The boisterous titter that unexpectedly bellowed from Cushla was loud and filled with sarcasm. “With you? You’re insane if you think I could develop a friendship with you. That is what you’re implying isn’t it?”
“I will never use what you tell me against you. Yes, you can find friendship with me as long as the boundaries of master and slave are understood, Cushla.”
“You must have a tick in your brain if you think I’m gullible enough to believe you’re genuine,” Cushla stated firmly. “I have no wish to consort with those on that side of the cesspool.”
“Is there no one you’ve ever trusted, mistress?” Tarken took yet another step closer to her. If he reached his arm to full length he could touch her.
“When never allowed the option of a choice, how could it be otherwise?”
“And all men that bedded you have taken you by force?”
“Always, Tarken.” She scowled while emphasizing his name as if it was a dirty word. “Unless I’m in a stupor. Then, I’m merely passive, but not of my own doing.”
“From drugs?”
“Or from beatings, or the slave band, but yes, drugs too.”
“You prefer to be in such a state when you’re being bedded?”
“I prefer to have my mind in as far away a place as possible.”
Ah, so that was it. Tarken suspected as much. There was no need for her to explain further. Cushla goaded him in hope of being punished to incoherence, so she would have little or no awareness of being fucked. His belly curled with distaste. Why did the word fuck seem so crude all of sudden, when in essence that is what he inevitably did with female slaves—fuck them. A slow grin crept along Tarken’s lips. All of his female thralls gave him their bodies willingly…eventually. Cushla would be no different. He smiled at the pleasant thought of having her naked beneath him.
“You find rape amusing slavemaster?” She boldly glared at him.
“I do not condone such an act of violence,” Tarken stated firmly, the smile fading when he realized she had misinterpreted his expression. “I was merely imagining your body writhing with passion.” His voice softened, his grin returning.
Cushla turned away from him, but Tarken was relatively sure he saw the beginnings of a blush. The air of innocence it portrayed, he thought was quite charming. “Do you always resist intercourse, mistress?”
“Sometimes I fight, if the slime is too rough, but that makes the sex more painful, and it garnishes punishment afterward.” Cushla moved across the room, creating a wide arc away from the bed, and out of his reach, as well. She stopped in front of the mirror, glancing at her reflection, and grimaced as though she couldn’t bear the sight of herself. “Mostly, I lie there and review the list of chores I’ll need to complete later. Or I silently imagine my favorite song playing in my head.”
“Rest assured, Cushla that when I’m inside of you, you’ll be singing a much different tune.”
“An arrogant slavemaster.” Cushla waved a hand through the air dismissively while casting her eyes upward in a clearly sarcastic manner. “How unique you must be. I can’t fathom how I survived this long without you.”
If nothing else, she was entertaining.
Tarken would consider keeping her for himself if the king hadn’t already laid specific claim to her. His smile faded. Mecor would abuse her and the
re was nothing he could do about it. The thought made him sick, but he brushed it aside. What the king did was none of his concern. “Has no one ever attempted to give you pleasure?” What fools…He wondered. Who would forego the passion of this lovely woman in lieu of satiating his own lust? It was incomprehensible.
“An impossible task since it couldn’t interest me less.”
Tarken studied her. The look of disgrace that briefly touched her face as she examined herself in the mirror belied her casual exterior. In just the short time he’d known her, he already knew several things about Cushla that would assist him to properly train her, and he doubted that the pretty little slave even realized how much she’d actually revealed him.
He was about to put his first method to the test.
Walking over to her, Tarken released the clasp that held the rest of her hair in place and combed his fingers through it, spreading the satiny mass around her shoulders. Thoughts of it draping all around him flooded his mind as he imagine her riding on top of him. He ran his fingers down the length. It was incredibly silky and pleasing to touch. His gaze shifted to Cushla’s face. He was seeing her in profile, and she stared forward.
Her chest rose and fell evenly, her breaths easy and quiet, giving him no indication of either nervousness or arousal. Taking a step, Tarken faced Cushla, forcing her to look directly at him.
Her gaze never averted, but there was an emptiness within them that was sadly cold. It was if she’d withdrawn into herself becoming a shell of a person oblivious to the world outside.
“You do realize I must punish you for your bad behavior this eve?”
With her eyes unblinking and no indication of fear Cushla answered, “Do what you must.”
“I could use a lash.” Despite the threat, Tarken felt no need to discipline her in such a manner. He did, however, have an incredible desire to touch her. Reaching around her body, Tarken skimmed his hand over the small of her back until he reached Cushla’s buttocks. He squeezed firmly but painlessly. Her flesh was smooth and warm. His cock twitched. “You’ve been lashed before? I saw some scarring.”
Cushla shrugged.
The marks he’d seen on her backside were numerous, some were harsh though others were faint, and she still had bruises from a recent abusing. Tarken was annoyed by that. It was difficult for him to fathom why someone would mar something so beautiful. Yet, he knew by her remarks that she preferred corporal discipline, so he could only assume that Cushla likely encouraged at least some of the beatings. It was an ineffective means of training, particularly when the method is of the slave’s choosing.
Removing his hand from her bottom, Tarken dropped his hand.
At the same time, Cushla exhaled.
He was suddenly aware that she held her breath while he was touching her. To test that that assumption, he lifted both hands and cupped her breasts. Her intake of air was silent but he felt her chest rise. He waited for her to exhale.
And he waited some more.
He decided to play with her nipples until she either passed out or absolutely needed to release the breath. Damn if the girl could hold her breath for a lengthy time.
Finally, Cushla expelled the air in her lungs and when she did, her eyes fell shut.
“I’m sure you understand I could use the slave band to force your cooperation?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time.” Cushla’s lids lifted her glare intrepid.
That look again. It was as if she were daring him to do it. Most slavemaster’s would be goaded by the expression and do exactly that—activate the band. Tarken was now highly aware of her motive. The pain and semi-stupor that followed was exactly what Cushla wanted. It would dismiss her participation in the sex. She would just lay there, half conscious and likely remembering very little of it.
Did she hate sex that much?
Tarken considered the punishment options. What would affect her the most? That which she feared most would. The vulnerability of passionate desire would frighten her, Tarken was sure. Another smug smile spread across his mouth. “Sex will be your punishment.”
Chapter Seven
“What!” Cushla yelled. Her impromptu reaction was completely reflexive. She definitely didn’t like what he was suggesting. “Sex as punishment? That’s absurd.”
“It would be if you enjoyed it, but since you do not…”
Cushla’s eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open, but no words emerged.
“Nothing to say, mistress?” Tarken advanced on her, grasping her at the waist and tugging her body against his.
She stiffened.
“Does the thought of my lust make you feel uncomfortable?”
Cushla struggled to gather her thoughts and composure. “It has nothing to do with being uncomfortable and everything to do with the fact that your breath stinks.”
Tarken grinned slowly. His mouth opened and he huffed out a breath of air blowing it directly into her face.
There was a silent pause, and Cushla blinked several times. Her mind rapidly assessed his behavior, but of its own accord, and quite unexpectedly, her body relaxed in his arms and then, much to her surprise, she laughed. She hadn’t meant to laugh, but she couldn’t help it. The slavemaster was sort of, well—amusing. Still in the middle of that thought, Cushla was only half aware that his lips were on hers.
Cosmic feathers!
He was kissing her, and she wasn’t even resisting. In fact it felt nice, very nice…too nice. Ach! Pull away! You can’t enjoy this, she tried to tell herself. Her lips softened. Right about now would be a good time. Her mouth parted slightly instead. Mmm…Did I just moan?
His tongue slipped inside, and the only thing registering in her brain was how good he felt and tasted. All other coherent thoughts became mush. Their mouths were locked together, their tongues sliding, her respirations becoming quick and rhythmic and in near cadence to Tarken’s heavy breathing. Her naked body plastered against his clothing was rather—Cushla moaned again—stimulating.
Something was happening inside of her, a sensation she couldn’t quite name, nor was it anything she’d ever experienced before this eve. Give over, her body tempted her. Oh, evil dungeons!
It didn’t take long for Cushla to recognize it. She was fucking horny, and she wanted him to give it to her deep and hard or slow and easy or…oh hell, beyond belief! She just wanted him to give it to her! With that thought now at the forefront, Cushla began to shrink away from him.
Tarken slackened his embrace before she could fully resist. “You are an incredible woman Cushla.” His breathing was deep and rapid with his arousal.
Cushla was keenly aware of his heavy cock pushing against her, the pressure so hard she thought it would burst through his pants. She stared at him.
His expression was subdued and his eyes…ach! The look he gave her seemed so unbelievably sincere…and his voice, the tone of his voice was soothing, the low, gentle way he used her name, comforting and reassuring.
“I’m a slave,” Cushla answered in return. She was breathing just as hard as he was.
“An extraordinarily desirable one,” Tarken returned. “And one who is unable to resist me.”
“If you say so, Tarken, because you know so much.” How arrogant could one man get? She would resist him. Yes, she definitely would!
“Do you like to orgasm, Cushla?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never had one.”Oh starcrap! What possessed her to reveal that little bit of information? How could a man she’d just met have such and affect on her? The urge to spill her guts to him was both incomprehensible and utterly confusing!
It was loneliness.
Cushla would be fooling herself if she denied being lonely. It seemed like ages since she’d been close to anyone. And Tarken—this time, she allowed his name to roll through her mind. The sound of it warmed her, made her feel like his equal. She glowered at him. It was exactly what he wanted—another of his ploys to coerce her compliance. Her thought processes paused.
&n
bsp; And then seized.
By automatic learned response both Cushla’s demeanor and emotions hardened. He was killing her will with kindness! Every curse she’d ever learned fired in her brain, some silently aimed directly at the slavemaster but most to chastise herself for nearly succumbing to surrender. Stupid, though mild in comparison to some of the words she was inaudibly uttering, being one of them.
Oh hell fucking fires! Because of her admission he was now looking at her hungrily, the lust in his eyes sparking wild. Cushla watched his chest expand with a deep inhale, making him seem virile and full of masculine life.
He reached, and took her hand.
Desire surged within her at his simple touch. She fought against it with all of her might and attempted to tug her hand away.
He turned to gaze his grip tightening. “I just want to look you over.” Tarken led her to the center of the room. “I am not in the habit of forcing slaves to submit to my needs, so ease your worries.”
His voice was calm and soothing, the gentle tone triggering the tension in her muscles to ease. She couldn’t help it. Rationally, it made no sense to trust him, yet corporally her brain and body failed to agree. On a sigh, Cushla stood there motionless giving him no resistance as he explored her naked form.
* * * *
Tarken wondered if she felt degraded to be treated this way. But if she did, Cushla seemed to rail against it, keeping her head held high. He would need to discover what did humiliate her in order to be sure he was giving her effective punishments.
He took a slow walk around her.
Her lips were still swollen from his kisses, and the glow in her cheeks was still there. Her nipples—ah her breasts were a perfect handful, her nipples pointed firmly in his direction. She was disheveled from their rumble, her hair partially fallen from where it was pinned at the top of her head—sexy as sin…desirable as the rarest rysali gem.
While he examined her slender feminine form, admiring her subtle curves and delicate features, possessiveness besieged him as he realized that he would be the first to give her pleasure, and he would, Tarken was convinced. Though her actions made a good attempt to deny it, he was quite sure Cushla was aroused by him.
Slavemaster's Woman, The Page 6
