Slavemaster's Woman, The

by Angelia Whiting

  Tarken looked at Bazil curiously. “Then why did you flee with her if you knew she could prevent Mecor’s uprising?”

  Bazil frowned as he cast his eyes downward. “She was a tiny child—my daughter.” His gaze shifted and met Tarken’s eyes. “Despite her appearance, despite the telltale mark she bears, it was I, who refused to believe it.” He pressed his lips tightly together and furled his brow. “I was never much of a spiritual man. I only meant to protect her and denial was the easier path.”

  “She never shifted as a child?”

  Bazil shook his head from side to side.

  Tarken dragged his fingers through his hair and sighed. “There were signs while I was with her. Even knowing as little as I did about the Libertas, I suspected when I saw the beginnings of her shifting,” he paused, his mind wandering momentarily to his memories of Cushla, and he couldn’t help but feel the warmth of it. The faint smile on his lips faded and his attention once again, returned to the skies. He scanned its vast openness. “With all she endured, all she had to do was shift to save herself. I don’t understand why she did not.”

  Walking closer to Tarken, Bazil reached out and patted him twice on the shoulders. “That is something I have no answer for. You’ll have to ask her yourself.” He then turned and walked away.

  “If only to be given the chance,” Tarken whispered. Sadness filled him. “My heart aches for you, Cushla. I miss you.”

  Shouting in the field snagged his attention and Tarken’s gaze shifted to see what was happening. Several of the workers were dropping to their knees while others fell flat to the ground.

  Kleb however, was looking upward and waving while Bazil stood nearby. He too was looking upward.

  Tarken followed the line of their gazes and his heart leapt.

  Cushla!

  She was traversing the sky. With her wings outspread she was in an easy glide as she cut across it. Changing directions, she swooped down on him until she was close enough to pluck him from the ground with her talons.

  Tarken never flinched as she did not clutch him, he merely tracked her path of flight, watching her admiringly as she arced upward again, creating a greater and greater distance between the ground and the skies. Tarken resisted the urge to chase her, to run and wave to her, though he wanted dearly to call to her. He would leave that up to her if it was what she decided—he deeply hoped she decided to come to him, but his heart sank when she vanished over the horizon.

  He waited, his gaze fixed to the spot and then he saw movement in the skies to his left.

  She was arcing around, diving and ascending, coming lower and lower, her form casting a greater and greater shadow upon the ground until her talons touched it. As soon as they did, she transformed her forward flight effortlessly and smoothly yielded to a forward stride as she walked toward him. It was as if she’d been transitioning for solars. “You summoned me master?” She spoke coolly. Her eyes with their spectrum of colors shifting to the sparkling crystal irises.

  Tarken was so familiar with that wondrous gaze of hers. He smiled softly, watching her hair whip around her and then settling like a silken drape around her naked body. His heart was swelling almost painfully at her unexpected appearance—excitement mixed with fear that her visit would be fleeting. “I didn’t summon you, Cushla.”

  Did I?

  “I thought I heard you…” Lightly, Cushla touched her temple with two of her fingertips. “…in my head.”

  “I assure you, mistress I did not order you here.”

  She looked almost disappointed. “But you could’ve…” she hesitated her lips parting as she took a shallow breath.

  The mere simple act of those luscious lips caused Tarken’s cock to stir and an incredible urge nudged at him to scoop her up and take her immediately to his bed.

  “…if you had so desired…” she continued. “You could’ve if you wished.” With that comment she cast her eyes downward.

  “I promise this to you, Cushla.” Tarken attempted to convey what he felt inside, and used the utmost of sincerity in his voice. “I will do my very best to make no demand, command or take liberty with you against your will.”

  Cushla’s gaze flicked upward. “That I find surprising, Tarken. Many a man would abuse such power. Mecor certainly would have.”

  “Mecor didn’t love you.”

  She stared at him, and he could tell by the expression on her lovely face that she didn’t completely understand what he was saying. Or she was reluctant to believe him.

  It mattered not. He would say it again—and again, and again. “I love you Cushla.” Unable to resist her any longer, Tarken stalked toward her, aching to touch her, to kiss her, to hold her in his arms. He half expected her to dodge his advance but she only tensed slightly when he swept her into his embrace and pulled her against his body. He could tell by the glimmer in her eyes and the subtle smile on her lips that she was pleased.

  He laid his lips upon hers immediately.

  She responded with a sigh, taking the kiss and returning it with equal fervor, perhaps even more so as it was Cushla who barged her way into his mouth with her tongue and pressed her lips hard against his.

  Tarken groaned and tightened his arms around her.

  She broke the kiss, tipped her head away from his and drew in a gasp of air.

  It was then Tarken gathered her up, lifting her from the ground.

  “Are you forcing your will upon me, Tarken?” Cushla wrapped her arms around his neck. She attempted to suppress a smile but failed.

  “Do you object?” Tarken nuzzled his cheek against her hair and inhaled. She smelled magnificent, like she’d bathed in the petals of a freshly bloomed garden.

  “No,” she answered.

  “Good.” Tarken turned and headed to his quarters. It was the same humble abode with which he’d grown accustomed to, preferring its simple charm to the larger, more lavish accommodations in the castle that Rube had offered him.

  He stopped at the door, fumbled only slightly with the latch before pushing the door open.

  Epilogue

  Her body trembled and Cushla couldn't prevent the rise and fall of her chest from her excited breathing. She seemed to put all of her efforts into concentrating on the ceiling, ignoring the bonds and how the slavemaster's pelvis seductively moved against her. She played at appearing complacent.

  Tarken pulled out of her and sat back on his haunches, his knees straddling her hips. “I think you’ve had enough.”

  A protest emerged from her throat at his untimely actions.

  He tried to hide his smirk as he knew she was close to climaxing. “You take your punishments well, mistress.” Reaching up, he released the restraints. Stars bedamned…he enjoyed tying her up! He was even more overjoyed at how much she’d grown to trust him.

  “Ah, but my slavemaster, inside my brain I imagine taking a blade to your heart for depriving me of my favorite thing!” Cushla growled at him.

  The thing being his very hard cock.

  Retrieving the mug from his bed-side stand, Tarken put the rim to her lips and tipped the mug toward her mouth.

  Cushla took a sip of the water and then pulled her head away. She licked the few drops of liquid that remained on her lips.

  The simple act aroused Tarken and he shivered his mind slipping into thoughts of how her tongue felt swirling around his cock. “Then you admit my punishments are effective?” He traced a fingertip along the crease of her lips.

  “I admit your punishments are unusual.”

  “And effective,” he replied smugly.

  “Only effective if you can trust I won’t pluck off your head while you sleep.” Cushla returned, her comment equally as smug.

  “I think not.” Tarken nipped her bottom lip.

  “How can you be so sure?” Snapping her teeth at him, Cushla flashed a wily smile.

  “Because my tongue is a part of my mouth, which is a part of my head and I know how much you love my tongue.” To make his point, he ben
t and licked her pussy drawing a delighted squeal from her. He then sat back on his haunches and pulled her on top of him, sitting her upright and straddling his hips. “And because you love me.”

  Though in truth, it worked both ways as Tarken truly loved her… he loved her with all his being.

  “I feel no such thing.” She returned a snarky smile which conveyed more teasing, than it did the sarcasm she was attempting. “I merely enjoy the way you fuck.” To confirm her own point, she rubbed her pussy along the shaft of his cock, now trapped beneath her. A shiver rushed along her body when his member twitched and hardened along the crease of her crotch.

  “Then fuck me forever, woman!” Tarken growled.

  Her brow went up. “Is that your command?”

  “Only if your wish is my command.”

  Cushla turned her head to one side. “Perhaps it is or perhaps it isn’t.” Her chin rose in a haughty manner, though her voice was lighthearted.

  Tarken laughed. “True to your nature my lovely woman, elusive, defiant and completely in denial of how I arouse you.”

  “Really?” Cushla looked at him directly. “And how can you be so sure of that?”

  “Because your pussy is leaking onto my shaft.” Tarken slipped his hands beneath her thighs and lifted her. His cock popped up and he thrust inside of her.

  Cushla moaned at the exquisite sensation, ignoring the arrogant grin he flashed at how easily her wet channel accepted his quick penetration. She ground against him a few times taking him fully, listening to the sound of her juices churning as the head of his cock stirred her insides coaxing her arousal even higher. Heat spread along her body, igniting a fire that licked at her clit and caused her labia to swell with aching desire.

  Well he had her there. There was no denying she was indeed leaking all over his shaft.

  Cushla took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Her eyes closed of their own accord and she focused on the feeling, savored it. There was no hurry. They had the rest of their lifetimes to play and explore each others’ bodies, and she intended to tarry in every moment. For the last five dawnings, they had remained hidden away in his quarters, making love, becoming reacquainted, though they’d done more loving-making than they had talking.

  She opened her eyes and smiled down at Tarken. “By the path...” Leaning forward she stretched out on top of him, her breasts flattening against his chest. She gave him a quick kiss on the lips and then gazed into his eyes. “…what are you are punishing me for?”

  In response, Tarken cupped the back of her head and reclaimed her lips kissing her passionately, deeply. He broke the kiss and whispered in her ear, “For stealing my heart and making me your slave.” He nuzzled his cheek against hers and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly to him.

  Tarken loved her—he actually loved her!

  The amazing statement had been echoing around in her mind for dawnings now as if she couldn’t believe it…as if it were the most exhilarating thought she’d ever had.

  Rolling his body, he put her beneath him and then propped up to his elbows. “Tell me something, Cushla.” With the tips of his fingers he traced the ridge of scars along her forehead, as if he cherished the remnants left behind by the slaveband she once wore.

  They were reminders of why and how they met, and as he’d said before how they’d seemed to make her even more beautiful to his eyes.

  “Why is it you never shifted? All those solars of being tormented, all those dawnings we spent together as I insinuated my will upon you…”

  “The slaveband—it was inhibiting me.” Cushla frowned. “Abuse, fear for my very own life, even the anger I felt throughout the solars was never intense enough to break through it.” She referred to the slaveband’s prongs which were designed to pierce the impulse centers in her brain. “It was only once I was forced to confront Mecor and—truly relive the things he said, while facing the memories of my mother’s death fully. When I finally I glared at his vile, evil face the rage became blinding.”

  “Your rage was quite apparent.” Tarken gave her a facetious grin. “May the spirits clout me squarely in the head, if I ever come remotely close to enraging you as much.”

  Cushla’s mouth twisted to one side. She knew full well he was aware of his hold on her power, that he could command her at will, so it was technically impossible to kill him—or even hurt him for that matter. Unless he ordered her to, which she was relatively sure he would not.

  “Why did you leave that dawning, Cushla—If you already knew all along who you were?”

  “Because I could.” Reaching, Cushla stroked Tarken’s face. She sighed and then closed her eyes. “You hadn’t commanded that I stay, and I was distraught. I needed to escape, to think, to grieve over losing my friend Ayia, with facing the death of yet another I loved by Mecor’s hand—my grandfather.”

  “Ayia and your grandfather both live, Cushla. Did you not see your grandfather in the fields when you flew over?”

  “I saw him as I have seen him many times since I fled the castle, but I didn’t know that at the time. My father and my grandfather have been to see me in my chosen place of solitude. They’ve kept me informed of all that has been happening.”

  To this answer, Tarken lifted a brow in surprise. “He knew where you were?”

  “My father as well.”

  “And where might this place of solitude be?”

  “Do you command me to reveal this?”

  His expression clearly indicated that he was considering the answer. “No,” he finally said. “You deserve all the freedom you can savor—and now you can relish in that freedom forever.”

  Knowing he held her power and she would have to obey him Cushla was deeply overjoyed with his answer. She trusted he would keep to his word. “I am still mortal, Tarken.” She unconsciously reached for her forehead but stopped abruptly. The slave band was—finally gone. “I will live no longer than what is expected to be average.”

  “Ah, Cushla.” Taking her hand into his, Tarken kissed it and then pressed her palm against his chest. “Then if you wish, I would be the most elated man in the universe if you should choose to stay with me for all of this life time.”

  “What I choose...” Cushla lifted her hand from his and pressed a finger to his lips. “…Is for no more talking. Just make love to me.”

  With that, Tarken smiled. Grasping her wrists he pressed her arms to the bed and bent to kiss her. He began to leisurely stroke inside her.

  She picked up the rhythm, joining him.

  An aroma permeated the room--their combined scents. It was sweet, arousing yet soothing and all consuming, creating an inner sense of peace and completion between them, as if it had been destined in the stars.

  Passion turned to hunger, pure and raw as Tarken pulled out of her while ignoring her complaining growl, chuckling at the way she grabbed at him and how she wrapped her legs around his hips, attempting to clutch him to her. His expression turned wily, his eyes sparking with a fiery desire as he licked his lips.

  Cushla sucked in a breath when he grasped her legs behind the knees and spread them open.

  He hungrily stared at her pussy for a moment and then dipped his head between her thighs. His tongue came out and he gave her a little lap.

  Cushla released a low squeak and squirmed against him. “No wait,” she gasped out, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of potent sensations. She attempted to pull away, but it was too late.

  Tarken was too far gone in her scent, too hungry for the taste of her and he ignored her. Grasping her hips, he pinned her down and licked her pussy with one, long, slow stroke.

  “Oh stars!” Cushla cried at the feel of his tongue and his heated breath, nearly jumping out of her skin.

  He knew this always made her wild with desire, and Tarken chuckled against her.

  The tone of it sent that familiar vibration along her vulnerable skin, rattling her nerves and had her stiffening to a state of high alert. Though, this time she wasn’t fighting, s
he was wanting, and Cushla tipped her pelvis upward, begging for more.

  He obeyed her demand, lapped at her, drawing her clit between his lips suckling it until it was swollen and throbbing, slowly playing with her.

  Cushla whimpered, struggled and pushed at him impatiently, her hands lacing through his hair, grasping his head as she furiously pumped on his mouth.

  Tarken responded with equal fervor, sucking at the sensitive nub, swirling his tongue inside her opening and licking at her eagerly.

  She moaned and writhed upon the bed, releasing her grasp on his head while curling her fingers in the sheets. Her body was tensing with her gasping, trying to rid herself of the unbearable urge to climax and yet wanting it never to end. “Please! I can’t take it anymore!” she cried.

  “Do you want me to stop, mistress?” Tarken rasped out.

  “Don’t you dare!” she yelled and rubbed her pussy against his mouth. “Or I’ll leave you this instant!”

  “Now there was a threat I won’t take lightly.” He inserted two fingers inside her as he intensified his efforts. She was close and he seemed intent on pushing her over. With determination he worked at her, sexing her flesh with his mouth.

  Almost delirious, she rocked her pelvis moaning as her orgasm began to build. “Yes, yes!” Cushla gasped and moved faster, then slower, rotating her pelvis, pushing it upward and then moved faster again. She reached down seeking to take his cock in her hand but the length of her arm fell short.

  Reading her desire to touch him, Tarken shifted, bringing his body over hers, straddling his knees and placing his pelvis directly over her head. His erection, the tip of his shaft dangled over her mouth.