‘She did do because Tarn of Kabra is a distant kinsman of her mother, Lady Kitara.’ Jenna voiced the excuse Rianna had used. It could not be disproved because little was known of Kitara’s heritage. No doubt Tarn would not deny it even if Lord Sarin questioned him on the matter.
‘So Lord Sarin tells me,’ the nobleman said thoughtfully. Sitting up, he took three gold coins from a pile on a table beside the bed. ‘For you, Jenna,’ he said, tossing them on to the bed beside her. ‘Now begone before your idle chatter begins to anger me.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Jenna gathered up the coins, pulled down her skirts and walked swiftly to the door.
‘I look forward to our next encounter, Jenna,’ he said with a soft, menacing laugh. ‘You have another orifice I’ve yet to penetrate.’
His words rang in her ears as she left the room. She began to run down the corridor, eager to get away from him. The ruthless way he took her and his searching questions troubled her. She was certain his desires were driven by something darker than lust. Somehow she had to find out who he was.
She was breathless with haste by the time she found Mircon waiting in the garden where they had arranged to meet. ‘I was worried,’ he said, pulling her into his arms. ‘What’s wrong, my sweet?’
‘Nothing,’ she lied, holding him close, feeling safe in his embrace. ‘What possible harm could come to me within the confines of the palace?’
‘Jenna, don’t lie to me.’ He lifted her chin and stared deep into her troubled eyes.
‘It’s a nobleman. I don’t know his name but he has taken a sudden interest in me. Twice he has questioned me about Lady Rianna and her relationship with Tarn. He knows too much, Mircon. His suspicions might well prove dangerous for my lady.’
‘Let us get inside my room before we discuss this further,’ Mircon whispered. ‘We would not wish to be overheard.’ He said nothing more until they were safely in his room with the door bolted and barred. ‘I’ve heard rumours,’ he told her. ‘Someone has been questioning the soldiers who travelled with us from Harn. It’s said that Rorg suddenly seems to be in possession of a large amount of silver which he has been spending in the local taverns.’
‘You think it is the nobleman?’ Jenna asked.
Mircon shrugged his shoulders. ‘Perhaps him, or someone working for him.’
‘What will be gained from harming Lady Rianna?’ Jenna said worriedly.
‘I don’t know,’ replied Mircon. ‘But for her sake we have to do our best to discover more.’
Chapter Eight
RIANNA SIGHED SOFTLY in her sleep. Sarin raised himself on one elbow and looked down at her, a faint smile on his lips. She lay on her back, not moving, her red-gold hair splayed across the pillow, looking beautiful and quite innocent.
Sarin was captivated by Rianna’s innocence. It was a unique quality within a seraglio filled with women whose sole purpose in life was to give him pleasure in any and every conceivable fashion. They were taught to disregard their own needs and take their joy from his release. Only Niska was different. She defied the rules and demanded satisfaction when he bedded her. She was also a willing participant in all his varied licentious excesses. Nothing was too strange or bizarre for Niska. Sometimes Sarin regretted marrying her. Nevertheless, there was something unique in Niska that he recognised, a reflection of himself. She was his darkness, while Rianna would be his light.
Lesand had warned him that Rianna was stubborn and self-willed, a trait she had inherited from her warrior mother. Because of that, and the reluctance Rianna had displayed over being forced into a political marriage, Sarin had ensured that her food and drink contained a potion that dulled any natural reluctance and heightened her senses, so that their first encounters would arouse her natural feminine passions. Last night she had given herself to him unreservedly, but Sarin had no intention of feeding her any more of the potion. After the effects wore off, Rianna might begin to display some reluctance. Sarin thought that a measure of resistance would add an extra facet of pleasure to their future relationship. Soon, of course, she would come to want him as much as he now wanted her. After that it would be easy to capture her heart.
Gently, trying not to wake her, Sarin rolled Rianna on to her side. He slid closer to her, until her back was pressed to his chest, her buttocks to his belly. She moaned and moved her legs restlessly, throwing one forward and opening her sex to his embrace. Sarin slid his fingers into her velvety sheath and her soft flesh welcomed the intrusion. As it wrapped around his fingers, her moisture began to flow, gently coating her honeyed folds.
It was a long time since he’d been so aroused without previous stimulus. His need for Rianna was like an aching heat in his lower stomach. Sarin slid his engorged cock past her nether mouth and into her vagina. He felt as if he could take her a thousand times, and yet not be sated. He knew from experience that such depth of feeling rarely lasted long. He tired of most women in time, regardless of their fragile beauty, their personalities or their varied talents. Love was forever denied to him. Sarin thought it a sign of weakness and would never allow himself to succumb to such a profoundly crippling emotion.
He lay there deep inside Rianna, feeling her womanly sheath embrace his cock. Gently he began to move, careful not to push too hard in case she awoke. She was even more innocently vulnerable when she was asleep. Sarin continued to thrust into her, savouring his pleasure, letting it slowly grow. He felt her vagina start to contract in strong waves, and his cock jerked in response as the seed spurted from his body.
Sarin held Rianna close as the climax overwhelmed him, buffeting his body with waves of sweetly tearing agony. ‘My treasure,’ he murmured, burying his face in her jasmine-scented hair.
He waited until his organ had softened before withdrawing. Bereft of his closeness, she rolled on to her back and looked up at him, a faint flush staining her ivory cheeks. ‘I thought I was dreaming,’ she whispered.
‘You were not.’ He smiled tenderly at her. ‘You learn swiftly and you please me greatly. I look forward to welcoming you in my bed tonight.’ Leaning forward, he kissed her soft, inviting mouth, fighting the urge to take her again.
‘You honour me,’ she blushed, appearing confused, and his heart warmed to her even more.
‘I have important matters of state to attend to. Until this evening.’ Sarin climbed from the bed and slipped on his velvet robe. Usually one of his Nubian slaves was in attendance at all times. For Rianna’s sake, he had forgone their presence last night.
‘Yes, my lord.’ She pulled up the sheet to cover her nakedness.
Amused by her modesty, Sarin left the room. Two of his Nubians were waiting outside the bedchamber. Ordering them to follow him, Sarin strode briskly onwards. As he approached the special chambers which were set aside for his most secret pleasures, his thoughts turned to Tarn. Because of her innocence, he had treated Rianna with care. Sarin knew it would be some time before she was ready to learn that pleasure could be gained in many diverse and devious ways. However, he had no intention of treating Tarn so delicately. His induction would be swift, and judging by Tarn’s wilful determination, necessarily harsh.
The two Nubian slaves accompanying Sarin were tall and muscular, their skin dark like polished ebony. After their purchase Sarin ordered their tongues cut out. So that his privacy could always be assured, he had only mute slaves to guard his pleasure vault.
Tarn was already in the inner chamber. He stood by a bench, waiting patiently, looking beautiful and wonderfully vulnerable. A length of chain ran from his gold collar to a ring in the wall. His arms were still chained to his sides, and he was naked apart from the leather harness. Despite Tarn’s apparently docile demeanour, Sarin could not bring himself to wholly trust his new pleasure slave. In the past he’d been a strong, skilful warrior, and if he were pushed too far there was always the chance he would rebel.
‘You may sit if you wish, Tarn,’ Sarin said, his desire aroused just by seeing Tarn in his provocative leather harness. T
he constant pressure on his sex ensured Tarn was always partially aroused. ‘Perhaps you find sitting uncomfortable with the phallus in place,’ Sarin continued tauntingly.
A number of emotions flashed across Tarn’s features, among them rebellion and anger. He clenched his hands, demonstrating to Sarin how difficult it was for him to rigidly control his feelings. ‘I prefer to stand,’ Tarn replied coldly.
‘You should kneel when you greet me,’ Sarin reminded him. ‘But I’ll ignore the oversight as it’s obvious the collar chain does not permit you to do so.’ He smiled wryly. ‘In time you’ll come to accept your position, Tarn. Even learn to welcome the pleasure that comes with absolute submission.’
He stepped over to Tarn and ran his finger over the slave’s full bottom lip, then he meshed his fingers in the long, perfumed hair. In total contrast to Rianna, Tarn’s body was firm and unyielding, but sweet just the same.
The first time Sarin had laid eyes on Tarn, the young warrior had been sixteen years old, just growing into manhood. He had been beautiful then, and Sarin had desired him. They’d become friends, close almost as brothers for a time. Sarin had always wanted a much deeper relationship, but he’d always been forced to hold back on his unrequited lust. Tarn seemed unable to accept that one man could desire another. Now of course it was different.
Tarn’s features were calm and impassive but his mind was in turmoil as he stared at Sarin. ‘You may control my body, Sarin. But you’ll never control my mind.’
‘We shall see.’ Sarin smiled, appearing confident in his powers of persuasion. ‘As you know, Tarn, over the years I’ve had a number of male pleasure slaves. Some I purchased, others were warriors captured in battle. Most were as strong-willed and determined as you are, but in time they all succumbed and willingly embraced their slavery. All were content to accept me as their master.’
‘For Cador’s sake I follow your orders, but I’ll never willingly submit,’ Tarn grated, unsure whether he would be strong enough to resist Sarin’s merciless, seductive onslaughts on his senses.
Tarn had known this pleasure vault existed but he’d never been inside it before, or known exactly what happened here. Now he was about to find out. He looked at the low, wide bed, the wall chains, and the two saddle-like devices. They were all subtle instruments of exquisite, tortuous pleasure, like the strange contraptions in the other room, where he’d been fitted with his restrictive harness.
He became certain he was about to undergo his first test of strength as Sarin smiled cruelly and said, ‘Of course I don’t expect you to accept submission swiftly. It will take time to break your indomitable spirit. I confess the challenge excites me.’
As Sarin spoke, a young female slave entered the room. She was naked, her long, light brown hair falling almost to her pubis. ‘You sent for me, master?’ she said in a fearful voice as she prostrated herself at Sarin’s feet.
‘Get up, girl,’ he said in a gentle tone. ‘I’m not intending to punish you.’
Relief lightened her face as she rose gracefully to her feet. She wasn’t beautiful, but she was comely, with sweet, innocent-looking features and large, hazel eyes. Her pale skin was lightly dusted with freckles, while her breasts were high and full, the nipples firm and red as berries.
As Tarn stared at the young woman, a sudden surge of lust speared his belly. He tensed without thinking, but that only served to remind him of the ivory rod still buried in his anus. He had been allowed the blessed relief of sleeping without either harness or phallus, but the replacement rod one of the Nubians had thrust into him this morning had been visibly thicker and longer. What troubled Tarn even more, was that his abused flesh had practically welcomed the new intrusion.
When he moved, the hardness and the stretching inside him became almost pleasurable. His inner flesh contracted around the smooth ivory, filling his sex with a fiery lust. That, coupled with the tight leather straps around his groin, and the constant chafing of the sensitive skin of his perineum, overwhelmed his mind with erotic thoughts. Often he craved release, but that was denied him. Tarn’s wrists were kept chained to his waist, the links only long enough to allow very limited movement. There was no way he could use his hands to pleasure himself.
‘Remove the slave’s harness,’ Sarin told the young woman. She nodded and stepped nervously towards Tarn. ‘Don’t worry, he won’t harm you,’ Sarin assured her.
She smiled tremulously at Tarn as she unbuckled the wide belt and carefully removed the harness. Tarn could not hold back a soft sigh of relief as the pressure on his sex was released. The slave girl dropped the harness, darkened in places by his sweat, on to the bench. She then stepped behind Tarn. Exerting a gentle pressure on his nether mouth, she slightly rotated the phallus to make it slide smoothly from his body. Bereft of its intrusion, the virginal opening ached, feeling oddly empty. Tarn tensed his buttocks, trying to ignore the unwanted sensation.
‘What now, my lord?’ She looked at Sarin.
‘You are to pleasure him, but first he must be securely confined. Step back,’ Sarin replied.
Tarn hid his surprise. This was not what he’d expected. He had presumed that Sarin wanted him only for himself. One of the Nubian slaves unclipped Tarn’s chain from the wall and led him into the centre of the chamber. Tarn’s wrists were unclasped from his waist, his arms drawn high above his head and fixed to a chain hanging from the ceiling.
A padded chair was moved into position to allow Sarin to watch in comfort. ‘You see, Tarn,’ Sarin said with a smile, as he sank on to the chair, ‘I’m not so cruel after all. The wench is comely, is she not?’
He clapped his hands and the young woman moved over to Tarn. She smiled, appearing pleased with her orders. ‘My name is Brigit,’ she whispered so softly that Tarn could barely hear her. ‘I’m honoured, Prince Tarn.’
She kissed his cheek, then rubbed her body provocatively against his. Pressing her naked breasts and their cherry-like nubbins against his bare chest, she stroked and caressed him, pulling teasingly at the fine, blond hair in his exposed armpits.
Tarn had no intention of responding. He resented being expected to provide Sarin with salacious entertainment. Staring stoically ahead, his blue eyes icily fixed on Sarin’s expectant face, he appeared unmoved by Brigit’s seductive attentions. He was determined to display no desire or feeling, telling himself he wanted no one but Rianna.
Brigit’s caresses became more intimate as she lapped and teased his nipples. Tarn did his best to disregard the growing heat in his groin, determinedly turning his mind to other thoughts.
Sarin frowned, angered by the contempt in Tarn’s challenging stare. ‘Take care, Tarn,’ he warned. ‘Have you so quickly forgotten Cador’s plight? If you don’t respond, I promise you Cador will be punished.’
Anger flared in Tarn’s eyes for a brief moment, before he capitulated. ‘As you wish, my lord,’ he grated reluctantly.
‘Blindfold him. He’ll respond better deprived of one of his senses,’ Sarin said curtly.
A thick, silk blindfold was placed over Tarn’s eyes. For a moment nothing happened, then he felt hands caressing his body again. This time he noticed the perfume, sweet and musky, strong enough to titillate his senses. No longer pressing her body against his, the slave girl concentrated on touching him with just her hands and lips.
Strands of her hair brushed his chest as she sucked on his nipples, pulling at the tiny nubbins with her mouth and nibbling them with her teeth. He felt her lips trail downwards, and her tongue lapped at the taut skin of his stomach. Tarn shivered; despite himself, he was aroused. Desire slithered into his groin like a lustful snake.
As she stroked his pubic hair, he gave up the struggle and succumbed to his arousal. Her breath brushed his semi-erect penis and it twitched excitedly, longing for the teasing caresses of her fingers and lips.
Tarn tried to forget that Sarin was watching his every move, finding pleasure in his unwilling response. Instead, he imagined that it was Rianna’s lips and
hands that were stroking his engorged flesh.
The slave sank lower, running her hands up the inside of his thighs, easing his legs further apart so that she could cup the soft sac of his scrotum. Her fingers felt surprisingly strong as they kneaded and squeezed his buttocks, and stroked the tortured flesh of his nether mouth. He tensed, willing her fingers to slide inside, but they drifted away to caress his penis.
Circling the shaft, she pumped the organ, urging it gently into full life. It hardened, the bulb at the end swelling as the foreskin slid slowly back to reveal the taut, purple glans beneath. She captured the bead of moisture seeping from its summit, and probed the tiny slitted mouth.
Tarn gasped and pressed his hips forward, sighing with relief as he felt her lips close around his cock head. She ringed the thick collar of flesh with her tongue, and coated the glans with her saliva. As she drew it deeper into her mouth, Tarn clenched his hands, digging his nails into the palms. She slid her lips further down the shaft, licking and sucking in a smooth, erotic rhythm. By now, Tarn was beyond anything other than his imminent release. Jerking his pelvis forward, he tried to force even more of his penis into the willing orifice.
She stroked the sensitive flesh of his perineum and squeezed his seed sac; it tightened, his balls hardening into two firm stones. Then her fingers probed his nether mouth. Tarn groaned loudly.
‘Please,’ he unconsciously murmured as her fingers slid inside.
They delved deeper, pausing to press on an achingly sensitive spot. The pleasure was so intense that Tarn could hold back no longer. His climax came, profound and frighteningly intense, as he spilled his seed deep inside Brigit’s throat.
Tarn sagged on his chains, his arms supporting his weight as his thighs trembled from the strength of his orgasm. The slave girl straightened and fastened her lips on his. Apart from his brief moments with Rianna, Tarn had never felt such desire. The taste of his seed still lingered in Brigit’s mouth as their tongues entwined.
Later, Tarn couldn’t be certain of the exact point he came to realise how cruelly he had been deceived. Perhaps it was the kiss, or the moment later, when a firm, naked body pressed itself intimately against his. ‘No!’ he cried with anguish and pain as he jerked his head away.
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