“Spirits, hell!” Tarken banged her harder.
He was coming…She was coming.
Tarken’s shaft expanded, swelled, his fluids busting forth, taking his mind into a rupture of release and blinding relief of sexual satisfaction the likes of which he’d never encountered before.
Cushla screamed…Tarken bellowed.
His arms wrapped more tightly around her, and he could swear they were floating from the bed, but he was so consumed by the rapture of the ecstasy that his mind was unable to focus on it.
Sweat left their bodies’ slick, allowing them to easily glide and pump at each other, the aftermath of their orgasms as they continued to thrust in cadence almost as enjoyable as the culmination. There was no slowing of their movements. Instead, they both came to an abrupt stop, their groins pressed tightly together, both gasping at the convulsing that continued to throb between them.
Tarken collapsed on top of Cushla as she collapsed beneath him, and he could swear he could hear the crack of the bed frame as they crashed into the mattress. For an insurmountable time neither of them moved, each working laboriously to catch their breaths, astonished at what they’d both just experienced and how amazing it was between them.
Tarken lifted his head and gazed down at Cushla.
Her eyes were closed and there was a peaceful, satiated smile on her lips. Her skin was warmly flushed. She was radiant, her beauty almost ethereal both in mind and body.
He couldn’t help but give her cheek a tender kiss as he continued to look at her, unable to draw away his gaze. He’d never met anyone quite like Cushla, free woman or slave, and it lay sharp in his mind that no matter where he went in life, or where she ended up he would never forget this moment. He would never forget her name.
“So much for sex as punishment.” Tarken rasped out between his heavy respirations.
“Indeed,” Cushla breathed out in a wispy whisper and without opening her eyes. Her smile became wider. “Your reprimand is my pleasure.”
Chapter Ten
“You’re a bastard, slavemaster.”
Tarken didn’t answer, nor did he look at her.
He was trying to shake off the shattering after affects of their lovemaking. His brain jerked askew, clouding his word-finding ability, instead deciding to taunt him with images of the sex they’d had. He could still feel her muscles clamping wildly around his erection and the thought was causing his cock to harden again.
Star demons! He wanted to have his way with her, coax her into one climax after another, and he wanted to start by tasting her from bottom to top, stopping to linger at the juncture of her sex, licking her until she—snarling inwardly, Tarken berated his wayward thoughts, forcing himself to see the woman sitting crossed-legged on the bed, as a slave, a piece of property, a commodity easily sold or traded. She was nothing to him! “Cushla, your actions still warrant punishing.”
“Punishment?” A shrill of utter fury jerked along Cushla’s spine. “You ass fucker!”
Shifting to lean on the arm of the plush, oversized chair he was sitting in, Tarken’s expression turned pensive before he replied. “Now there’s a thought.”
Ashen, was the only way to describe Cushla’s reaction to his remark. Her eyes glazed over and it seemed she was lost in a thought. Her lids lowered as her head turned aside, and the grimace on her face was acute.
If Tarken was willing to allow it, his heart would’ve gone out to her. It was obvious someone had hurt her in that manner. Instead, he pushed the sentiment aside. Her past was none of his concern. “You’ve been uncooperative, Cushla.”
“I was willing!” She protested and glared at him while reaching for the bedcovers.
“No covers.” Tarken held up his hand, pointing his index finger in a scolding manner. “You were more than willing, mistress. You came, and quite hard if I’m recalling it correctly.”
“So did you.” Fisting the sheets in her hand, Cushla glowered at him.
Tarken angled his head and inspected her naked form. His body heated at the luscious sight of her. He focused on her breasts. The smile that formed on his lips was licentious. His eyes shifted upward to her face. “It was nice.”
To this, she narrowed her eyes, but then her expression went cold.
Tarken was grateful for the reaction. At the moment, he’d rather have her angry and resistive than to be vulnerable to this woman who’s unrequited passion left his emotions so open and raw. “I will overlook that you took my clothes.” He stood, moving toward her stopping at the edge of the bed. “As for leaving the room, you’ll be confined to quarters at next port and probably a few thereafter.”
Tipping her head at an annoyed angle, Cushla shifted her gaze toward the wall at the head of the bed. She studied the patterned tapestry hanging there and continued to listen.
“Had you not done so you would have been given some freedom to explore, escorted of course until you could be trusted.” Tarken reached, intending on grasping her chin to turn her face toward him, but she jerked her head away, so he drew back. “But for the time being you have lost that privilege.”
Cushla looked up at him. “What do you intend to do, keep me confined for the remainder of my life?”
“If need be.” Tarken picked up his shirt from the floor and donned it. He was already wearing his trousers. “Of course it may not be my decision. It will depend on the wishes of the King.”
Thinking about Mecor’s perverse tendencies, something akin to guilt took hold of Tarken, but he pushed it aside. He was the slavemaster and Cushla was the slave. There was a job to be done here. “As for the food, I’ve seen how you like to eat,” he continued. “You’ll forego meals for the next two dawnings. I will allow you only water.”
Cushla sneered vilely. “I’ve gone without food before.” Defiantly she pulled the linens over her body. “The punishment is benign.”
“As for the sex…” Tarken ignored her comment, but didn’t ignore the covering. He yanked if free and tossed it to the floor. “We will continue to do that.”
Her luscious lips twisted into a sneer. “Over my dead body.”
“Really now, Cushla…” Tarken crossed one arm over the other and flashed a cocky smile. “I’m not into that.”
“You might as well be.” Cushla snorted. “I’m sure most females who found themselves beneath you wore so bored they appeared as dead.”
Turning away from her, Tarken walked over to the mirror and combed his hair with his fingers. “No, but they screamed loudly enough to wake the dead, almost as loudly as you had, mistress.”
He caught her reflection in the mirror.
Her cheeks were flushing, and she appeared absolutely embarrassed.
It amused him that she would react so coyly at such a thing, especially since she was no novice at sex. Tarken reconsidered that. He could consider her as virginal when it came to having orgasms. And he’d been the first. Wrinkling his brow, he realized he wanted to be the last, as well.
There was a knock at the door, and Tarken tossed the abnormal thought aside. Turning, he headed toward the door but glanced at Cushla before reaching it.
She fisted her hands tightly, her expression pleading.
He nodded, realizing she wanted to cover herself.
Cushla released a grateful sigh, snatched the cover from the floor and pulled it over her naked body.
He considered punishing her by denying her the covering, but then thought it might be too much, thus inhibiting her training. Her temper was already inflamed enough, and it was her compliancy he sought, not defiance.
“Your rub cherkin, m’ lord.” the servant at the door stated and held out a wrapped tray.
Tarken took it from him, and nodded his approval when he felt the warmth that radiated from the package. Likewise, the aroma was equally delectable. Turning with the food now in hand, he walked across the room and set it on a small dining table. He then went to his bag and removed a small sachet, reaching into it. “Do you have a credit chip
?” he asked the servant.
“I do.” The servant pulled his monetary unit from the pocket of his trousers and presented it to Tarken.
The slavemaster returned to the door and interfaced his own credit chip with the servant’s transferring a modest tip to the man. After the exchange, Tarken closed the door and then turned to Cushla. He strolled closer to her and tossed his credit chip on the nightstand, wondering if she was once again, plotting a way to snatch it.
His attention shifted toward Cushla who continued to sit quietly on the bed, the bedcover still wrapped around her. He knelt down and grabbed the end of it, shoving the material past her knees and clear up to the top of her thighs giving him full view of her pussy.
She didn’t move, didn’t even tense.
Reaching, Tarken skimmed his palm up the inside of her thigh. When he reached her juncture he immediately inserted a finger inside of her vagina and slowly stroked in and out. With satisfaction he watched as her eyes glazed over, but she kept her body very still, her expression quite blank as if pretending to be unaffected by what he was doing to her, but Tarken could plainly see that she was. The warm fluid soaking his hand belied the pretense.
When he pulled out of her suddenly, choosing instead to rest his palms on the tops of her thighs, she gritted her teeth, her nostrils flaring in apparent irritation, further confirming her arousal.
He removed his hands from her body and stood abruptly. “I have business to attend to.” It was a blatant lie. “Take a bath and then find something to occupy yourself until I return.” His eyes snapped toward the food, still wrapped and set on the table. “That you will not touch.” Snatching his credit chip from the bedside stand, Tarken turned away from Cushla and stomped toward the chamber door.
It took great effort to separate from her, to resist toppling her backwards onto the bed, spreading her legs and burying his cock deeply inside of her, but he had to. Tarken realized there was more at work here than his libido. Something was thrumming in his heart, something he had no intention of identifying.
* * * *
Nice…just nice? Was that all he could say? It was nice.
Cushla narrowed her eyes angrily, trying to obscure the hurt and humiliation. No beating could replace how belittled she felt at his comment. It was keenly apparent now that the slavemaster was discovering everything that bothered or upset her. Even worse, he would use it against her for punishment.
She couldn’t believe her ears!
He still intended on punishing her after what they just shared? Her entire body shook in outrage. She truly wanted to kill the master! Why she had such violent thoughts, Cushla refused to ponder, though deep inside she knew it was because he aroused her beyond reason.
If Tarken could affect her in such a way, how else might he overpower her?
Cushla stared at the closed door for several ponderous moments, considering if she would dare defy him and leave the room. Being of the belligerent sort, she rarely accepted punishment without resistance, whether vocal or physical. Yet, for some odd reason, this time she thought better of rebelling. Not because she thought there would be any benefit to her being obedient. No, never that! She vowed long ago that she would be docile for no one.
It was more because Tarken made her nervous. As determined as she was to resist, one touch from him and she became a lusty heap of steamy mush. No man had ever caused her to lose control like that. She had a strong feeling manipulating him would be a difficult task. She needed to study him a little better, develop a greater awareness of him, so that she might better predict his reactions to certain situations.
“Fine!” Cushla grumbled loudly. In all sincerity, she was glad he’d gone. Staring down at the bedcover, she huffed and tossed it aside. Naked, she stood and stalked the length, immediately furious with herself for allowing the slavemaster to affect her in such a manner. What was wrong with her anyway?
Cushla stared in the mirror, her gaze running the length of her own reflection and shook her head. She’d been nude in front others, nearly every dawning since being forced into slavery. Her body had been scrutinized over and over again by many, and it was something that stopped fazing her a very long time ago. Why then did this—this despicable slavemaster cause her to feel so timid, so exposed! “Ach!” she bellowed and turned away from the mirror.
With a deliberately quick pace she stomped to the bed and fell face first onto the mattress.
“An orgasm?” Cushla pursed her lips. “An orgasm! What is wrong with you Cushla!” She chastised herself. Memories of the orgasm she so wanted to loath, swept quickly through her head and though she wanted to sweep it right back out, her mind wouldn’t let it go. It escalated before she could even stop it, bolted through her body, pounded and burst, her cum gushing between her legs, soaking them both. Then she was crying out in a paramount ecstasy, she never thought she’d ever experience in her lifetime, and she had no wherewithal to even try and stop it!
Cushla rolled onto her back. Reaching up, she touched her lips and though about his kisses, savored the memory of his hot breath on her face, close, sensual. She felt intoxicated, sensations flooding her like tidal waters rushing forth, and she didn’t know how to react, whether she’d sink or swim, or just hang on for the ride. Her rational side fought with her passionate side and through the haze of lust that was building within her, she realized her desire was causing her will to capsize. She wanted her slavemaster with the utmost urgency, and it would be impossible for her to deny the sexual excitement he stirred within her.
She had no idea when he’d removed his pants, but he did. When he climbed on top of her and she felt his hardened cock pressing against her inner thigh, of their own accord, her legs parted inviting him to take her. She couldn’t help it. A compelling awareness consumed her—a throbbing in her clit, her labia. The erotic feeling seared through every rational thought and rippled like small static shocks along every inch of her body as his cock slid rapidly in and out of her.
Never before had she wanted a cock so badly. Never before had the muscles inside of her contracted so fiercely, grasping hungrily at his cock, heightening the euphoric sensation. It pulsed through her body, and all she could do was writhe, yielding to the incredible, carnal pressure building inside of her. “Oh, blazing stars!” She cried out and sat up. “Damn you slavemaster. Damn you!” She grasped her hair and violently shook the thoughts from her head and forcing her mind to go numb.
Cushla’s stomach suddenly gurgled, protesting its emptiness, and she realized she was hungry. Her attention slid to the wrapped tray on the table. It smelled irresistibly delectable.
“Damn, demon’s blood!” What would he do if she ate just a little of it? Cushla pushed the tantalizing aroma from her thoughts as well. He was punishing her without even being in the room! Thinking about that for a moment, she realized it was because she was afraid of his punishments. They were like no others she’d received before. Though he didn’t beat her, somehow, Cushla knew his reprimands would hurt much, much more.
He would attack her vulnerabilities.
Wrenching her hands together she stood and paced the room. The slavemaster was a worrisome puzzle. “Ach!” There was nothing Cushla could do about it at the moment.
He’d told her to take a bath and it really did seem like a good suggestion at the moment. Cushla grimaced. It really wasn’t a suggestion. It was an order. What did she care? A bath is something she wanted, so what did it matter if it was also his command?
Cushla headed toward the bath chamber. She knelt on the floor next to tub, turned on the faucet, and then swished her hand back and forth in the hot water testing its temperature. Her only intent was to take a nice, relaxing soak and try to forget what the future held for her.
Tarken…the bedamned, gorgeous, sexy and exasperating hunk of a man, she would deal with later or sooner.
Probably sooner than she had any desire to.
And in regard to touching her body again, there was no way in shooting starbl
asters he was going to—Cushla yawned and slipped deeper into the tub. Her lids drifted shut. Think about it later…later…later…
“You shouldn’t sleep in the bath, Cushla.”
Her eyes snapped open in time to see Tarken opening the drain in the tub.
“You might slip under and drown.”
“My race can breathe underwater, slavemaster.”She jerked her head in an attempt to awaken fully.
He stared at her as if curious.
She snickered. “I’m jesting, Tarken.”
His responsive grin was charming. “Then I say that’s a good thing, mistress. I thought my plan to hold your head underwater as punishment would be all for naught then.”
“Then I would refuse to die, slavemaster.” Cushla’s eyes sparkled with mirth. “My intent is to annoy you for the rest of my life.”
“Because I made you come, mistress?”
Cushla felt her cheeks flush, and she couldn’t look him in the eye. Hell! Her embarrassment about sex amused him. He was teasing her. That should’ve irritated Cushla but it didn’t. She wanted to be playful back though she hid it, instead becoming somber.
“Here, mistress.” Tarken held out his hand.
She slipped her hand into his, and he helped her to stand.
He didn’t release her until she stepped out of the tub. Reaching toward the bench in the chamber, Tarken snatched the towel folded there, shook it out and began drying Cushla’s body with it.
As a slave, it was typically Cushla who’d done most of the drying, being ordered to do so by master of the moment. This act by the slavemaster was a tender thing to do, and Cushla wasn’t sure how to react, so she just stood there and allowed him to do it without comment.
When he was done, Tarken wrapped the towel around her and tucked the end in so it wouldn’t fall. Without further word to her he turned away and left the bathing room leaving Cushla alone and staring at the open doorway.
Slavemaster's Woman, The Page 9
