‘Mother!’ Rianna gasped in bewilderment. ‘This cannot be!’
Sarin paced the room in frustrated fury, his only covering the sheet he’d pulled from the bed to wrap around himself. When he had awakened this morning he had found the door of his chamber locked and his clothing gone. Now he was hungry, thirsty and filled with so much anger he could scarcely contain himself.
As he heard the rattle of the latch, he turned to face the door. ‘What is happening?’ he blazed as he saw Danara enter, accompanied by three of her warriors.
‘Have you not realised by now that you’re a prisoner?’ she mocked.
‘Prisoner,’ he hissed. ‘How dare you. I’m the Lord of Percheron.’
‘I dare,’ Danara replied boldly. ‘Your soldiers are gone. You’re here alone and unprotected, Sarin.’
‘Gone?’ he grated, trying to hide his growing concern. ‘That cannot be.’
‘The main body of troops left here believing they were under your orders to continue in their pursuit of the fugitives,’ she replied with a cold smile. ‘While Cador and the rest of your men have been despatched to the slave markets of Freygard.’
‘Do you want war?’ he asked in disbelief. ‘My army will attack Freygard, decimate your lands and rescue me.’
‘Somehow I doubt that,’ she said, appearing uncomfortably confident. ‘Soon you and the rest of your men will be leaving for Percheron. Unfortunately you will be waylaid by bandits and brutally slaughtered. My warriors will find proof of the terrible tragedy. Everyone will believe you are dead, Sarin.’
‘You will never get away with this,’ Sarin flared, lunging at Danara. The warriors acted swiftly, restraining him, and pulling the sheet away to leave him naked.
‘Chain him,’ Danara ordered. ‘Fit him with the slave collar.’
Sarin struggled to resist, but the women were far too strong. In a matter of moments he was kneeling in front of Danara, a thick leather collar fastened around his neck, his wrist chained behind his back. ‘I’ll never be a slave,’ he yelled furiously.
‘Perhaps a demonstration is in order.’
Danara nodded to the warriors, who dragged Sarin over to a heavy oak chest and pushed him forward so that he was half-lying across it. He went to move but gave a groan of anguish instead, as the sharp sting of the lash seared his shoulders. Another cruel blow followed, then another, criss-crossing his back. The lash moved lower as Danara began to concentrate the blows on his buttocks. Sarin felt as though his body was a mass of stinging agony; he had never known such pain.
The red lash marks stood out starkly against his olive skin. He shivered as Danara pulled back his head and stared into his eyes. ‘Take your time, slave. I enjoying beating you into subservience,’ she said with a cruel smile.
She pushed him down against the chest and resumed the beating. This time she used the lash more carefully. With each successive blow the fine leather strands curved around his hip to painfully caress the side of his stomach. Sarin drew in his breath, caging his groan of agony, fearing the whip would catch his sex. Sweat ran down his neck and pooled under his armpits. He pressed his thighs, slippery with perspiration, close together. For the first time in his life he recognised fear, but there was another emotion simmering inside him. The dark side of his personality, the part that revelled in causing others pain, recognised that same submissive need in himself. His fear consumed him, while he became more and more aroused.
Each stinging starburst of agony magnified the glowing heat in his buttocks. It spread like a creeping flame deep into the pit of his belly, increasing into a lustful inferno. The wanting, the dark need, grew in him. He felt his penis harden and his balls contract.
At the next stroke, he pressed his hips closer to the hard wooden chest, wanting to place pressure on his engorged cock. Sarin groaned, almost welcoming the pain of the blows now, as his arousal increased. His back and buttocks felt sore and abused, while his sex screamed for its release.
The lash curved round his buttocks again, the fine strands just stroking the soft skin of his balls. Sarin gave a harsh, sobbing groan, and moved his hips, trying to rub the stem of his manhood against the wooden chest. He strained for his release but the pleasure eluded him. Sarin moved his hips in a jerky, rocking movement, now agonisingly close to fulfilment. He awaited the next painful caress of the whip as he reached desperately for his climax. Instead, he felt hands grab hold of his abused shoulders and swing him around to face Danara.
She smiled derisively as she glanced down at his engorged member. It stood stiffly out from his belly, the swollen head moist and inviting. ‘Leave,’ she told her warriors. As they departed, she looked back at Sarin. ‘So you crave pain, slave. It excites your senses.’
‘No,’ he denied, his eyes full of angry resentment. ‘I will find a way to destroy you, Danara.’
‘Will you?’ she laughed throatily. ‘I am willing to wager that I will destroy you first.’
She pulled open her loose robe. Sarin stared in surprise at her full breasts, their nipples imprisoned by decorative clamps. The desire in his loins surged excitedly into life again. He could smell her sweet, musky odour, see the thick pelt of auburn hair that covered her sex. He had desired her when he had first laid eyes on her, this warrior Queen who despised men, and took her pleasure only with her own sex.
‘Now crawl forward and pleasure me with your mouth,’ she ordered.
The fire in Sarin’s belly increased, magnified by the sweet submissive lust her presence aroused in him. ‘If I refuse?’
‘Then I’ll beat you again, this time without any mercy. You’ll soon learn to obey me, slave.’
She parted her thighs as he crawled forward on his knees until he was crouching between her legs. As he looked up at her vulva she used her fingers to peel apart her labial lips. Her sex unfolded like the petals of a rose, pink, sweet-smelling and so inviting. Lifting his head, Sarin took the first tentative taste of her sex.
Tarn turned his head as he heard the door of the coupling chamber open. ‘Come with me,’ said the slave mistress sternly.
‘Is Lord Sarin still in the castle?’ Tarn asked anxiously, as she took hold of his arm and marched him out of the slave quarters and across the bailey. ‘One of the other slaves told me he had arrived, along with a large troop of soldiers.’
‘Matters such as that are not your concern, slave,’ she replied curtly, then her manner softened. ‘You perform your tasks well, Tarn. Most slaves only manage one coupling a night. If you carry on like this you will doubtless be rewarded.’ She glanced towards him. ‘Do you see any soldiers, here? No, you do not, because they departed early this morning. Queen Danara is not expecting them to return. Does that satisfy your curiosity, slave?’
‘Thank you, mistress,’ Tarn said politely, thinking that even the warriors of Freygard responded better to honeyed sweetness than to bitter aloes. ‘Could I also enquire if Lady Rianna is still in the castle?
‘You ask too many questions,’ she said, her cold manner returning.
‘So I cannot ask you where we are bound?’ he pressed with caution.
She gave an irritated grunt and tightened her hold on his arm. ‘Quiet,’ she snapped.
The castle was almost deserted; just a few male slaves hurried along the wide corridors, too busy to even bother glancing at Tarn. They had just walked through the great hall when Tarn caught sight of a strikingly beautiful woman, who had a strong resemblance to Rianna. As he passed, she paused to stare thoughtfully at him, and when he glanced back at her she rewarded him with a warm smile. Wondering who she was, he accompanied the slave mistress up the stairs.
She led Tarn to a luxuriously appointed chamber. ‘You are to wait here,’ the slave mistress said. ‘When your new mistress appears you are to do exactly as she orders.’
‘New mistress!’ Tarn exclaimed. ‘How can that be?’
‘So many questions,’ she chided with a soft chuckle. ‘Contain your curiosity, you will learn everything in the full
ness of time.’
She left the room. Tarn waited for a few minutes. When no one put in an appearance, he stepped over to the window. He could just see over the battlements. Tarn stared at the thick forest, and high mountain peaks reaching up into the clear blue sky. Freedom beckoned him. Now that Sarin had departed, he must try to somehow see Rianna and plot their escape.
Hearing the soft rustle of silk, he turned. ‘Rianna,’ he gasped in surprise. ‘They’ve not harmed you?’ he added worriedly.
‘I should ask you that question, my love.’ She ran to him and flung herself into his arms. ‘I was so concerned.’
Tarn held her close, never wanting to let her go. ‘When I heard that Sarin had arrived at the castle, I feared the worst,’ he said, pressing his face to her sweet-smelling hair.
‘Sarin need never trouble us again,’ she told him. ‘So many things have happened, I have so much to tell you.’
‘Later,’ he whispered, capturing her lips with his. Tarn kissed her passionately, trying to convey the full depth of his emotion in that one kiss.
Breathlessly, she pulled away from him. ‘We should talk.’
‘In a moment,’ he murmured.
Rianna gave a soft laugh as he lifted her into his arms and carried her towards the bed. ‘So eager, my love.’
‘I need you now,’ he groaned, as he pushed aside the skirts of her pink silk gown and pressed his face to her pubis. He rubbed his cheek against the prickling softness where her red-gold curls were starting to grow again. ‘Soon your glorious fleece will return. Promise me you’ll never remove it again.’
‘I promise,’ she whispered, tensing her belly and pushing her hips towards him as he eased open her thighs. ‘It seems so long since we lay together.’
‘A lifetime.’ Tarn kissed her sex, burying his lips deep in her vulva. It was hot, moist and wanting, eager to feel his hard, male flesh piercing its delicious folds.
Tarn pressed the tip of his tongue against her flesh hood, rubbing it backwards and forwards, further inflaming the bud beneath. He closed his lips around that sweet centre of existence, pulling it into his mouth and sucking on it gently until it grew into a firm, rosy pearl. She moaned with bliss as he slid his tongue into her vagina and caressed her silken sheath.
Tarn felt her flesh tremble beneath the merciless onslaught of his lips. ‘Tarn,’ Rianna gasped, as she meshed her hands in his hair. ‘I need to feel you thrusting deep inside me.’
Lifting his head he smiled at her. ‘How can I refuse you anything?’ he teased.
With one swift movement, he grabbed hold of her hips and slid his engorged member deep inside her. Savouring the warm wetness as her silken valley embraced his penis, Tarn thrust into her, filled with an overwhelming need for the only woman he truly wanted. She was the most beautiful, the most desirable creature that ever walked the earth.
He drew the scent of her deep into his lungs, felt the smooth softness of her flesh beneath his roving fingertips, and knew without a doubt she meant more to him than life itself. Wanting to give her even more pleasure, he altered the angle and pace of his movements, ensuring that with each thrust his hard shaft tantalisingly caressed the bud of her clitoris. Shuddering with ecstasy, she pulled his face towards her and took possession of his lips. Rianna pushed her tongue into his mouth, employing the same seductive rhythm as the movement of his cock invading her vagina.
Tarn’s pleasure peaked swiftly. He tried to hold back, but it was beyond his control.
‘Forgive me,’ he groaned, as his climax overwhelmed him. As he spilt his seed, he felt her vagina pulse, and saw her face tense in an expression of sublime anguish as her climax came.
After the strong pulsing had ebbed away, Tarn looked down at his beloved. Rianna smiled with serene contentment. He had never seen her look more glorious; her ivory limbs splayed across the coverlet, her red-gold curls surrounding her like a glowing halo, her green eyes looking lovingly up at him.
‘Now, Tarn,’ she said softly. ‘We will be together forever.’
The group of travellers left the castle, descending into the valley on the road that eventually led to Harn. At the base of the steep slope, Rianna stopped her mount beside Tarn’s and looked back at the castle.
‘I almost pity Sarin,’ she said thoughtfully.
‘He deserves every wretched moment of his slavery,’ Tarn said. ‘You are too forgiving, my love.’
‘Maybe so, but I feel magnanimous at this moment in time. I have much to be thankful for.’ She looked over at Gerek, who appeared happier than he had for years as he smiled at his wife, Kitara.
Kitara was returning with them to Harn. She could not forgive Danara for deceiving her, and failing to tell her of Rianna’s presence in the castle. Kitara would never have known if it had not been for a close friend, who disobeyed Danara’s orders and sent an urgent message to her. Kitara, as the Queen’s cousin, had much influence in Freygard. When she had demanded that Danara release Gerek and Rianna, the Queen had been unable to refuse her request. After that it had been all too easy for Rianna to persuade her mother to use her influence to also obtain Tarn’s release.
‘So have I,’ Tarn grinned. ‘With Sarin no longer Lord of Percheron, and with your father’s backing, it will prove easy for me to regain my rightful position in Kabra.’
‘I cannot conceive how mother managed to persuade Danara to ally herself with my father. Once you are on the throne of Kabra, our lands can be at peace. Percheron will no longer be able to threaten yours or my father’s sovereignty.’ Rianna reached for Tarn’s hand. ‘So it is finished,’ she said, turning her back on the castle and all those contained therein.
‘No,’ he smiled lovingly at her. ‘It is only just beginning. Now we have the rest of our lives to be together.’
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Epub ISBN: 9781448131488
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Black Lace novels are sexual fantasies.
In real life, make sure you practise safe sex.
First published in 1998 by
Black Lace
332 Ladbroke Grove
London W10 5AH
Copyright © Deanna Ashford 1998
The right of Deanna Ashford to be identified as the Author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
ISBN 9780352332530
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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