‘How could I ignore such a lusty wench?’ Gerek grinned as she began to bounce vigorously up and down on his throbbing cock.
‘If I please you, Protector, will you reward me?’ She began to milk his engorged shaft with her internal muscles. Elise had the most unique control over her vagina; she was capable of bringing Gerek to orgasm without outwardly moving a muscle.
‘How about the silver necklace that pleased you so much?’ Gerek suggested. It was but a small trinket in his estimation.
‘The necklace will do very well.’ She smiled provocatively, then bit her lip with concentration as she began to caress his stem with just the walls of her feminine sheath.
‘That feels so good,’ Gerek grated. ‘Hot and very tight,’ he gasped as her sheath clasped his cock in a strong embrace. The walls started to ripple, alternately squeezing and releasing his engorged shaft.
‘I also want my pleasure,’ she purred. ‘Don’t climax too swiftly, my sweet lord.’
She lifted her hips and ground them down against his pelvis, repeating the movement again and again, still gripping him firmly with her vagina. Flinging back her head, Elise rode Gerek with wild abandon, always continuing the subtle, inner pressure until Gerek thought he might explode with bliss.
Reaching towards her, he slid his fingers inside her slit and tugged and pulled at her pleasure nubbin. ‘Yes,’ she gasped, her hips moving harder and faster. Her vagina pulsed as her climax came, and at the same moment, Gerek achieved his own release.
His cock pulsed, while Elise’s internal muscles contracted around the stem so strongly that it felt as if she were emptying him completely. ‘I’ve no more seed to give,’ he groaned. ‘You’ll wear me out, Elise,’ he added as the pulsing bliss died, leaving him drained and exhausted.
She rolled off him and lay down by his side, rubbing her naked body tantalisingly against his. ‘I was hoping you might consider using your tongue on my slit. You know you like to taste your own leavings on my pudenda.’
‘Greedy whore,’ Gerek teased, moving to bury his face in her warm, moist sex. He tensed as there was a loud knock on the door. ‘What?’ he growled, irritated by the unexpected intrusion.
‘Two travellers await you, my lord, in the great hall,’ the soldier shouted through the barred door. ‘One of them is the maidservant, Jenna.’
Gerek stiffened, concern etched on his face. ‘Jenna?’
‘Is something amiss?’ Elise asked as she sat up.
‘Tell the travellers I will be with them shortly,’ Gerek replied. ‘Serve them food and drink.’
‘Yes, Protector.’
As the man’s footsteps moved away from the door, Gerek sprang from the bed.
‘Is this Jenna important?’ Elise asked.
‘It depends why she is here,’ Gerek said anxiously, as he threw on his clothes. ‘She is my daughter’s maidservant.’
Tarn knelt submissively in front of his master, hating himself as the familiar, unwanted desire for Sarin came flooding back. He longed to set it aside, forget it existed, but in these sensual erotic surroundings it would not disappear.
Tarn felt as if he had fallen into a bottomless pit, and somewhere in the dark depths was a place he never wanted to reach. A place where pleasure, pain and submission combined into an all-encompassing torrent that would consume him completely. He would become Sarin’s slave always and forever, and the knowledge that he was steadily growing closer to that destination filled him with fear.
He had shared Sarin’s bed for the last five nights, and he dared not allow himself to think of the many dark pleasures they had shared. The brief moment of tenderness Sarin had shown Tarn that first night had never been repeated, and he had almost come to doubt it had ever existed anywhere but inside his tortured mind.
‘Why so sad?’ Sarin smiled and beckoned to Tarn. He went to rise to his feet. ‘No, on your hands and knees,’ Sarin ordered.
Tarn had learnt his lesson well. He emptied his mind of thoughts as he crawled over to Sarin and crouched at his feet. He felt Sarin stroke his hair. Then a gentle hand tipped up his chin and stared into his sky-blue eyes. They were dull and expressionless, devoid of feeling.
‘What is your desire, master?’ Tarn asked. There was little that would shock him now. Sarin’s training was thorough. Why even try to resist? Tarn asked himself, when he had already committed the ultimate act of submission many times over.
‘I miss your defiance, Tarn,’ Sarin mused, then he smiled. ‘But I’ve known you a long time. I’m certain there is still a small spark of resistance somewhere deep inside. If fanned it could well flare into life.’
‘I see no point in resistance,’ Tarn murmured. ‘I’ve already betrayed everything I ever believed in.’
‘Have you?’ Sarin eyed him thoughtfully. ‘We shall see tonight, when we attend a small gathering for some of my closest friends.’
Tarn said nothing. He had discovered that despair had a numbing effect on the mind. It helped to erase self-will, pride and feeling. Tarn still experienced carnal desire in a cold, rather detached way. The brief surge of satisfaction he gained from his release was nothing compared to the flame of love he’d once known. That had burnt like a bright beacon in the darkness of life. Now he had nothing, no future, no past, just the cruel eternity of the present, where Sarin ruled sublime.
‘You’ve attended some of my more intimate gatherings in the past,’ Sarin continued. ‘Most of my slaves are well used to performing and pandering to the pleasures of my friends, but you are not.’ He beckoned to the ever-present Nubians. ‘Have this slave taken to the bath house to be prepared for this evening’s entertainment. Naked and in chains he’ll play a central part in tonight’s erotic tableaux.’
‘Haven’t you done enough to me?’ Tarn asked harshly, as fear pierced his apathetic numbness. ‘You must hate me greatly to force me so low,’ he added as he was hauled to his feet by the Nubian slaves.
Sarin gave a soft laugh. ‘I knew you weren’t yet totally subdued. The fire still bums within you, Tarn. Tonight I’ll extinguish it forever. Many you know will be there. My wife, Chancellor Lesand, old friends from the past, and of course your kinsman, Cador!’
By the time evening came Tarn felt tense and apprehensive. He had thought himself beyond emotion but unfortunately that was not the case. Now he feared his last spark of resistance would be erased. He had spent many hours in the bath house being steamed, scrubbed, and massaged with oil and exotic perfume. His skin glowed with health and his hair, which was steadily growing longer, fell in silken waves down his back. Tarn’s only ornament was a gold circlet around his brow, perhaps chosen to remind him of his former position in life.
Naked and chained, he was taken to the part of the palace where the banquet was being held. Most of the guest were already present. As he waited in the small ante-room he could hear them talking and laughing.
‘Tarn,’ Sarin said with a smile, as he strode into the chamber. ‘I think I should always keep you naked and in chains. The sight titillates my senses.’
He beckoned to the two Nubians who followed him. They were the tallest and most muscular of Sarin’s mute slaves. The Nubians were impressive even in their nudity, their black skin glistening like polished ebony.
‘A perfect contrast,’ Sarin commented, as the Nubians took hold of the chains attached to Tarn’s wrists. ‘Darkness and light.’ He turned to the slave who’d accompanied Tarn from the bath house. ‘Has he been properly prepared, his nether mouth oiled?’
‘Yes, master,’ the man replied.
Sarin pressed a small jar into the man’s hand. ‘Anoint him with this to ensure he stays fully aroused.’ Without glancing back at Tarn, Sarin strode through the curtained doorway into the banqueting chamber.
‘Why, Tarn,’ a husky female voice purred, as a cool hand caressed his bare buttocks. ‘Don’t you look beautifully vulnerable tonight.’ Tarn smelt her familiar musky scent as Niska moved round to face him. ‘I’m looking forward to watc
hing you take part in tonight’s entertainment.’ She ran possessive hands over his chest. ‘And if Lord Sarin permits, I intend to use you myself later. He enjoys watching me don a phallus harness and penetrate his pleasure slaves. It will prove a stimulating end to the evening.’
Tarn gritted his teeth and said nothing in reply, trying to appear unmoved as Niska stroked his sex. She wore a pale pink bodice cut so low it revealed the tips of her rouged nipples, while her gauzy skirt was so fine he could see her veiled pudenda through the folds. Despite himself, Tarn felt his desire rise and a heavy warmth invaded his groin.
‘I’ll apply the ointment.’ Niska took the jar from the slave. She dipped her fingers in the thick, spicy-smelling cream and began to spread it over the shaft and head of Tarn’s penis. Already aroused, Tarn trembled as the fire in his loins increased. Unrelentingly, she coated the base of his shaft, his balls and even the thin skin of his perineum with the cream. A tingling warmth began to spread across his entire sex, growing into a fiery heat that made his erection increase until his cock stood stiffly out from his groin.
‘It will keep you erect and ready for hours,’ Niska said, her cold eyes gleaming as she stared at his engorged organ. ‘I can hardly wait to feel that magnificent shaft inside me,’ she whispered, before she glided gracefully from the room.
Tarn was led forward through the curtained doorway into the banqueting chamber. The room was crowded but the corners of the chamber were in darkness, and for a moment he could watch unobserved. He saw Sarin lounging on a divan with Rianna at his side, looking as beautiful as ever in emerald green silk. Chancellor Lesand sat close by, surrounded by men Tarn had known in the past.
Naked slave girls moved around the room, serving drinks or pausing to allow the guests to kiss and fondle their bodies. The entire chamber was filled with a darkly sensual atmosphere of carnal delight. Tarn could see it on the slack, indolent faces of the guests and the concubines who lounged by their sides. Only one person in the room appeared immune to the atmosphere; Rianna had a tense, troubled expression on her beautiful face which told Tarn that she knew of his fate.
A dancing girl had just finished discarding her many veils. She was replaced by a troupe of acrobats, slim and lithe naked men and women who contorted their bodies in lewd, unnatural poses which exposed their most intimate parts and aroused the guests.
The dancer, her nakedness now covered with a loose robe, moved over to Tarn. ‘My name is Yasmin,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I have a message for you from Lady Rianna. She has been trying to reach you for days. You must do nothing for Cador’s sake. He is no friend, he is your enemy.’
‘Cador, my enemy?’ Tarn frowned in confusion. ‘You must be mistaken.’
‘Believe me I am not, but it is not safe to talk here,’ she said agitatedly, then rushed through the curtained doorway.
Chapter Ten
TAKING A TIGHT hold on Tarn’s chains, the Nubians urged him forwards. Holding his head high he walked to the centre of the room, all too conscious of his very visible arousal. He heard the whispered remarks and the lewd comments, but he had no choice but to ignore them all. The lights were bright in the centre, blinding him a little and making it impossible to see the individual faces of the audience. His chains were clipped to rings set in the marble floor, and he was forced to stand there naked and exposed while Sarin proudly announced that this was his new slave – the traitor, Tarn, former Prince of Kabra.
‘May I examine him more closely?’ Tarn heard one guest ask.
‘By all means,’ agreed Sarin as he rose to his feet and escorted the guest forward.
Tarn recognised the tall man with pock-marked skin; he was a lesser prince from desert land across the sea. Tarn had always disliked him because it was said he was unnecessarily cruel to his slaves.
‘Ensure he behaves,’ Sarin said to one of the naked Nubians.
The Nubian stepped behind Tarn and took hold of the short chain leading from his gold slave collar. He stood so close that Tarn could perceive the heat emanating from his oiled flesh, smell his cinnamon-scented breath and feel the man’s huge cock pressing against the small of his back.
‘I remember you, Tarn. Once the proud prince and rebel, now this.’ The guest ran an appreciative hand over Tarn’s muscular chest. ‘You’re even more magnificent naked.’ Hungrily he touched Tarn’s erect penis. ‘How much do you want for this slave, Sarin? He’s trained, I suppose?’
‘He’s trained.’ Sarin slid an arm around Tarn and stroked his taut buttocks. ‘Most agreeably so. But he’s not for sale at any price.’
‘Then would you consider loaning him to me tonight?’ the man pressed.
‘Tarn pleases me at present. While he continues to do so I’ll keep him for myself,’ Sarin said firmly. ‘Come, let us return to our seats.’
As Sarin and his guest resumed their places, Tarn felt the Nubian step closer. Hard male flesh pressed against his back. The Nubian’s erection felt impossibly huge. Tarn hoped Sarin didn’t intend to allow this man to take him, as he felt the slave’s hands stroke his chest and stomach. Tarn stood there, fearing the worst as other naked slaves, both male and female, joined them. Many gentle hands began to stroke and caress Tarn’s legs, arms and chest. A woman crawled forward on her hands and knees to kiss his feet. He felt naked breasts being pressed against his body, while the Nubian ran the head of his cock slowly down the crease of Tarn’s buttocks. Lovingly, it rimmed the tight opening, but never ventured inside.
Tarn closed his eyes as more hands and lips began to tantalisingly stroke his naked flesh. It felt as if every portion of his skin was being teased by fingers, lips or moist tongues. His arousal increased. He gave a soft moan as a searching finger slid inside his nether mouth. Lips fastened around his penis, sucking on the head of his cock, while other lips brushed the ever-stiffening shaft. Hands and fingers cupped his balls, and stroked the paper-fine skin of his perineum. Then a wet tongue followed the same erotic path.
He no longer knew who was touching him, whether the slave was male or female, as his pleasure increased. He just relaxed and allowed the myriad of sensations to overwhelm his senses, as the bliss enfolded him in its gentle waves. Teeth nipped at his nipples, fingers ventured deeper into his anus, and a willing mouth swallowed more and more of his achingly aroused cock.
The constant, all-encompassing assault on his helpless body sent him wild with lust. There was no escape from the onslaught whichever way he turned. As he gave a soft moan of pleasure, a hot mouth covered his. A tongue speared his mouth, and the long kiss seemed to suck the essence from his being while the hands and lips continued the invasion of his defenceless flesh. A warm tongue licked his balls, another lapped at the base of his penis, while the ever-present lips rimmed the head of his cock and then swallowed most of the thick shaft, making it grow so tight he felt it might explode.
The combination of different sensations was exquisite. The fire in Tarn’s loins increased, the skin of his sex hot and stretched taut. He thrust his hips forward, pressing more of his manhood into the willing mouth, while the searching fingers ventured even deeper into his anus. A swelling crescendo of sensations drew him upwards. He reached out for the summit and the sweet pleasure consumed him. Losing control, Tarn spasmed helplessly in a violent, all-encompassing climax.
His limbs still trembling from the strength of his orgasm, Tarn reluctantly opened his eyes. Other slaves lay at his feet, gaining their pleasure now by coupling in every conceivable manner and combination, while he heard the soft wet sounds of sex coming from dim corners of the chamber.
‘Release him.’ Sarin’s voice was tense with restrained passion. ‘Then come here to me, Tarn.’
One of the Nubians was thrusting mercilessly into a groaning slave girl. Obediently he withdrew and rose to his feet, his engorged cock gleamed wetly as he walked over to Tarn. Bending he released Tarn’s chains, grabbed his arm and pulled him forward. Sarin waved the slave away as Tarn fell to his knees in front of Sarin. His
legs felt so weak he’d thought they would buckle under him, but he still hated abasing himself in front of all these people. He bowed his head and sweat-stained strands of his hair fell across his taut cheeks, helping to hide his shame.
‘Tarn,’ said Sarin in a low voice as he leant forward. ‘You should feel how hard I am. I almost envied you for a moment. I’m certain my guests enjoyed the spectacle as much as I did.’ His face was slack with desire as he added, ‘Now ’tis your turn to pleasure me. Do I choose your lips or that tight, rosy nether mouth?’
Tarn raised his anguished eyes to Sarin, conscious of Rianna’s pitying gaze. There were two spots of hot colour on her cheeks and it appeared even she had been aroused by the erotic tableau.
‘You wish me to pleasure you here and now, my lord?’ Tarn asked hesitantly.
‘Would you prefer something else?’ Sarin asked mockingly. ‘Perhaps you’d like to offer your buttocks to Niska. She longs to pleasure you with her toy phallus. I confess I find watching her quite stimulating.’
Tarn paled, then murmured in a resentful voice. ‘Whatever it is you wish, my lord.’
‘How you must hate and despise me at this moment,’ Sarin said mercilessly. ‘I knew there was a small spark of defiance that still needed to be extinguished. I shall miss it when it is gone forever.’
There was the rustle of silk as Niska moved forward to whisper in Sarin’s ear. As she finished, his eyes lit up. ‘It would be the final test of obedience,’ Sarin agreed. ‘But I’m not certain he is ready.’
‘The truth is common knowledge around the court. Do you wish him to learn it from overhearing some loose-mouthed talk?’ she replied. ‘And it would heap coals on this final humiliation, would it not?’
‘Perhaps you are right,’ Sarin said thoughtfully. ‘Now is as good a time as any.’ He looked back at Tarn. ‘It’s decided then. You’ll not pleasure me, you’ll pleasure my special guest in any way he chooses.’
Sarin pointed to a man seated deep in the shadows. Tarn stared into the darkness, just able to make out a tall figure as the guest stood up. When he saw the man’s face Tarn was overcome by surprise. ‘Guest?’ he repeated, as he stared in disbelief at Cador. ‘But I thought . . .’
Savage Surrender Page 20
