by LJ Maas
“A backrub, Gabrielle. That’s what I need.” I finally mumbled to the kneeling girl.
I heard her robe fall to the floor again and I this time I permitted her to disrobe. I figured that I was naked; she might as well be too. I spread my legs apart and she took the silent invitation to kneel there and begin to knead the muscles in the small of my back. Those small hands had an incredible strength to them, while feeling gentle and sensuous at the same time, and I slowly began to feel my muscles become warm and pliant under her touch. When she moved to another spot, it seemed as if she knew exactly where my pains and old injuries were and gravitated toward them first.
She popped some bones in my back and I could feel the ache lessening already. When she moved to my shoulder I think I must have winced, because she apologized profusely. She kept up the massage in the painful area, going slower with each circle of her hand and suddenly paused.
“This might hurt, My Lord. Shall I continue?” she asked.
I grunted my approval, and I could feel the weight of her small frame press in on her hand. There was an audible pop and a sharp pain that begin to recede right away. I realized the shoulder I dislocated on a routine basis, must not have been replaced correctly. I popped it out again during the battle this morning. I made a mental note to remember to visit the Governor’s battlefield healer again before I returned to Corinth. He and I needed to have a talk about his abilities.
“Where did you learn how to do this?” I finally asked, trying not to groan in pleasure while I spoke.
“One of my masters had a healer who was from the land of Chin. He was very happy to teach me the ways of his art, My Lord.”
I was well acquainted with Chin and with the healing arts from that land. I learned quite a bit in my youth from a lover that I had briefly. I hadn’t thought of Lao Ma in quite a long time. She was perhaps the only woman who ever loved me for myself. I had nothing then, I was young and wild and she tamed me for a spell. I was also brash, foolish, and consumed with a lust for power. When I left her and the land she loved, I thought I would never go back there again. I did, some ten seasons later. I slit the throat of the Emperor who called himself the Green Dragon. I never knew who he was, but once I arrived in Chin I was told that he tortured and killed Lao Ma for her peaceful beliefs. Why she allowed him to, I will never understand. She possessed a mighty power and I wonder to this day, why she never used it on the bastard.
I felt Gabrielle lean into me and rub small circles into my lower back with the heel of her hand. I could feel her thighs pressing against the insides of mine and when she leaned her weight in to place more pressure on her hand, I felt the silky curls covering her mound lightly brush against my backside, and that warmth in my lower belly returned with a vengeance. She paused momentarily when she reached my hips, as if she didn’t know in which direction to continue. I wasn’t quite ready to give up the feeling of her hands on my body and so I commanded her to continue.
“Lower,” was the only order I gave.
I held the pillow in my arms tighter as she kneaded the flesh of my backside, wondering if she had any idea how wet she was making me. She eventually moved down each thigh and along the backs of my legs, and the things she did with her thumbs against the arch of my foot caused me to moan in pleasure.
It was the first sound I made and I believe it startled her. By the time she slowly worked her way up to my backside again, the sounds coming from my throat were continuous. It was a little hard to hide my desire at this point since I was sure she could see how drenched my sex was. Partly it was the wine, but the other part was the wonderful things this girl was doing to my body with her massage. I couldn’t remember if I’d ever let any man or woman take me in such a submissive position, but I pulled one knee up, spreading myself open and issued one command.
“Touch me.” I rasped.
She knew what I wanted and I could tell by her hesitant touch that she wondered at the position herself. She left one hand to continue kneading the flesh of my buttock and her fingers worked their magic in the wet flesh between my legs. It was like throwing cold water on a red-hot piece of steel. I was surprised there wasn’t steam and I groaned long and loud at the exquisite touch.
I remembered a time when three women could pleasure me at once and I never made a sound, being in control every step of the way. Even in my release, I was always in command of the pleasure I was receiving. I don’t know if it was the alcohol or not, but I think I lost control the minute I let this girl touch me. Now she was between my legs and I was moaning out a plea for her not to stop.
It quickly became apparent why Gabrielle had not a mark on her. She was extremely good at what she did. I ground my hips into the mattress to try to force her hand harder against my clit. It wasn’t enough and I growled in frustration.
“Inside... now!” I commanded and I grunted, feeling a warm sensation of gratification wash over me.
She slipped her fingers inside of me and I pushed back hard, impaling myself even further. It’s been so long since I felt any of this, a desire to take someone, let alone allow anyone to fuck me. I was lost to how it looked or how it sounded to anyone else. It felt damned incredible and I didn’t want the pleasure to end.
She kept perfect pace with her thrusting, to match the speed my hips dictated. Her free hand moved and she splayed her fingers across by backside, moving her thumb along the crack toward my center. She continued that way, back and forth, spreading my own juices up until I felt where she was headed. She paused and began to gently rub the puckered flesh at that dark opening, pressing lightly, but not penetrating. Frankly, the sensation was driving me wild.
In all my years, no one ever touched me there and I’ve experienced sexual pleasure from some of the best. My refusal to ever allow anyone access to that part of my body was something that I couldn’t explain, as if I had one piece of myself I would never give up, but it was all flying out the window now. Gabrielle kept up the thrusting of her fingers inside me and I could feel how close I was. She continued to run her thumb back down to pick up more lubrication, returning and pressing a little harder each time. Finally, she stopped and pushed against the reluctant opening, her thumb covered in my own wetness. I could feel her slide inside me the smallest bit and suddenly I craved the sensation of her entering me there.
“My Lord?” she questioned, knowingly.
It was as if, it was someone else controlling my body, as I heard my answer in my own low voice.
“Gods, yes!” I snarled and in one smooth motion, she penetrated that tight opening with her thumb.
She proceeded to do what she does best, I assume, and fucked me until I thought I couldn’t possibly hold back my release any longer. I began pushing back hard against both of her hands moving inside me, and when I heard my own scream rip from my throat, I thought it couldn’t possibly be me making those sounds.
She slowly removed her thumb, but I could feel her hand still inside me and before the last tremors of my powerful orgasm eased, she was moving her fingers inside me again. She twisted her fingers up high and deep, rubbing the velvety spot inside and I was groaning aloud again. She brought me to release again, and finally a third time with that technique, until my body slumped forward in an unmistakable posture of defeat.
The battle, the wine, and the explosive sex, all combined to drain even my body. I felt the slave’s weight as she got up from the bed and washed her hands. Forty-four seasons in this body were what I attributed my exhaustion to just before I passed out, face down in my pillows.
* * *
I woke with a start, feeling someone else in the room. The sky outside was a predawn gray and my head throbbed painfully. I noticed a mug of water was placed on the table beside my bed and I downed it in two gulps, realizing the slave must have left it there. Strangely considerate for a slave, but I let my body relax in the knowledge that it was the girl whose presence I felt. She was not in the bed beside me and I looked around the room in the scarce light and foun
d her.
She knelt beside my bed, much as she had earlier in the evening. Her head bobbed and I wondered in amazement if she was sleeping that way or struggling to stay awake. Either way, it touched something in my sleepy brain. I hadn’t dismissed her, and like the obedient slave that she was, she never left her position of servitude. Hades, what was her name again? That’s it.
“Gabrielle?”
She was alert at once, but looked up with tired emerald eyes.
“My Lord?” she answered in a sleepy voice.
“Come to bed, Gabrielle. When we go to Corinth you will have your own rooms, but until then, you’ll have to sleep in my bed.” I responded.
She seemed unsure at such an unorthodox request, but she obeyed, as I knew she would. She lay down and left herself uncovered as a good slave would, but I was just too tired to take advantage. I pulled the sheet over her body and rolled over, facing away from her.
“Good night, Gabrielle.”
“Good night, My Lord.” She answered.
I almost laughed at the sound in her voice. She was confused and was probably thinking the Conqueror was turning into a senile fool, as she grew older. I wondered at my treatment of her myself. I never once cared what any woman thought of me, let alone what a slave thought or felt. Slaves were objects; things you owned and you had every right to treat them how you desired. They weren’t considered people, with real emotions and feelings. I treated every piece of horseflesh I owned better than any slave I ever shared my bed with. In twenty seasons as ruler of Greece, I don’t think I ever once felt sorry for the life that the fates chose to call down on a slave. I just never thought about them or their circumstances.
This girl was affecting me all right and I heard myself saying things that I couldn’t believe were my own thoughts. Why did I tell her where she would sleep when we returned to Corinth? I never kept the women I was offered. Why did I say she would have rooms in the palace? I thought of the pleasure she gave me earlier and the memory caused a tightening between my legs. I thought of her lying completely available next to me, and although my mind was willing, my body craved nothing more than sleep.
I knew, in moments like this, where much of my recent melancholy came from. I spent more than half my life doing evil, despicable things to those who were weaker or less fortunate than myself. It took growing older to realize that the brooding anger and the actions of my youth left me without family, friendship, or love. Somewhere deep inside, I wondered if this small blonde, who was easily half my own age, could ease any of these losses.
I realized, in those hazy few moments before Morpheus seduced me into his realm, that I would indeed keep this slave, and although I didn’t fully understand why, I felt drawn to her; drawn to her quiet and submissive obedience. And so, Gabrielle came, not only to my palace, but also into my life. I felt needs around this small blonde that I couldn’t always put a name to, but for the first time in my life, I fell asleep wondering what someone else thought of me.
CHAPTER 2
TESTING THE WATERS
I FELT ANOTHER’S PRESENCE in the room before the heavy tapestry was moved away from the main window, early morning sunlight causing me to wince, even though my eyes were still closed. Sylla went about the room silently preparing for my morning. As my personal maid, she carried out her orders with a dutiful silence. Whether I slept all night or passed out on the floor in the pre-dawn light, Sylla woke me as the sun rose every morning. I was usually already awake, many times working at my writing table long before she entered my rooms.
Sylla usually let the early morning light into the room, and then set about lighting additional lamps or candles. She would pick up the clothes that I had scattered about when undressing the previous evening, have my bath prepared, and then bring up my morning meal. It was no different when I traveled, either. Her routine never varied and I know she was thankful my demeanor mellowed over the years. She used to take quite a bit of verbal abuse from me, but on mornings like this, when I was hung so far over I wanted to die, I did tend to revert back to that old Xena.
The funny thing was, Sylla never argued back, never left the room in tears, and even more astounding was the fact she didn’t pack up and leave. She was a hired woman, not one of my slaves, which in itself, was odd enough. She came into the castle when her father died, a dedicated soldier in my army of some little battlefield reputation. On the day that Delia asked if the girl could work for me, I did what I always did back then, some ten seasons ago. I scowled and shrugged my shoulders as if I didn’t care.
Now, Delia was another story. She asked me because she was the only one who could get away with it. I can honestly say that back then if anyone but my cook, Delia, would have asked me that same question, I would have grabbed the young girl and taken her, right there in front of my men, then allowed her to work for me. Why? Mostly, because I could I suppose.
Delia is the closest thing to a friend that I have in my life. She was the wife of the most trusted Captain I ever had. Galien was more than a soldier; he was a mentor and confidante, perhaps the only father figure I ever accepted. When he lay dying on a battlefield in Gaul, I held him and watched as he bled to death, knowing there was little I could do to save him. I told him that whatever wish he had, if it were within my power, I would grant it. He extracted a promise from me on that day, to see that his wife would always be cared for. When I returned from that campaign, Delia entered the castle.
She is the one and only person in all of Greece who doesn’t seem to fear me. She argues with me, cusses me, and generally treats me like the spoiled child I act like much of the time, and I care for her because of it. She grew bored with nothing to do in the castle and when she began to cook for me, I tossed the old cook out on his ear. She was a culinary Goddess and the table I set, in the palace at Corinth, became the envy of my entire empire.
I leaned up on one elbow and slowly opened my eyes, which only increased the ache in my skull. I watched for a moment as Sylla went about her morning routine. I looked down at the slave sharing my bed. Her face looked less tense as she slept and I couldn’t stop myself from reaching out and brushing my fingertips across her lips. Her eyelids shot open, revealing startled green orbs.
“My Lord.” Gabrielle exclaimed as she practically threw herself from the bed, to her kneeling position on the floor.
Well, that’s not exactly what I had in mind, but it was hard not to smile at the young slave. She was naked and didn’t seem phased by the fact that Sylla moved around her.
“Good Morning, Lord Conqueror.” My maid said. “The young men are here with water for your bath.” Sylla’s eyes indicated Gabrielle’s nude body and I wasn’t sure whether my maid’s concern was for Gabrielle or for the young men from the kitchen.
A feeling passed through me quickly and I realized that I didn’t want anyone seeing Gabrielle naked, but me.
“Gabrielle, get back in bed. Sylla thinks you’re going to catch a cold down there.” I chuckled.
Gabrielle eased herself back under the covers that I held open for her and I nodded to Sylla, who let several young men in with buckets of water for the large tub I used for my bath. They had to make a few trips, but kept their eyes in their head, all except for one youth. The temptation to see the Conqueror in bed together must have been too much and so he raised his eyes and fixed them, not on me, but on my slave. I had a flash of a previous time in my life and I could see myself rising from the bed and gutting the boy with my sword.
Instead, a low growl rumbled from my chest and I could see Gabrielle out of the corner of my eye. She quickly looked over at me; I’m sure wondering where the sound came from. When I was angry it could sound like the snarl of a dog, and when aroused, like the purr of a panther. Right now, it sounded anything but content or seductive.
‘If you want to live past today, boy, you’d better fix those eyes somewhere else.” I snapped.
Sylla saw the impending trouble and quickly intervened before it escalated into anyt
hing more.
“All of you boys... be about your business. That’s enough water, out of here with the lot of you.” Sylla waved the boys from the room, down the back stairs.
I lay my head back down on the pillow just as someone began pounding on the main door in the outer room.
“Ares Balls! Does anyone know what time I went to sleep last night?” I bellowed, causing my head to pound even worse.
“It’s your Captain, Lord Conqueror.” Sylla informed me.
“All right, all right.” I motioned for Sylla to let Atrius in.
“Lord Conqueror.” Atrius said quietly, which earned him points considering the way my head felt. He lost them, however with the look of amusement on his face upon seeing Gabrielle still in my bed.
“Atrius is there a reason for disturbing me before I’ve even had a chance to bathe?”
“Forgive the early hour, Lord Conqueror, but you expressed a wish to be on your way back to Corinth as soon as the trouble here had ended. Is today soon enough?”
I thought about that for a moment. I was anxious to return home now and I wondered if it had anything to do with the young woman in my bed.
“Yes... today will be fine, looks like we’ll have the weather for it. Can we be ready by midmorning?”
“Aye, Lord Conqueror.” Atrius replied.
I nodded my head in a dismissive gesture and pushed the pillows up to the head of the bed. I sat there and watched as Gabrielle laid there, her hands folded across her stomach. I thought about indulging myself with the pretty slave, but thought better when I realized that in a few candlemarks my army would be ready to march back to Corinth.
“It looks as if we go home today, Sylla. I’m afraid Gabrielle here is not dressed for a journey. Take her to the market and purchase what she’ll need until we get back to the palace. Do you have something you can lend her in the meantime? I don’t want any of these soldiers seeing her in her robe.”
