Slavemaster's Woman, The (12 page)

Her eyes were closed and there was a
peaceful, satiated smile on her lips. Her skin was warmly flushed.
She was radiant, her beauty almost ethereal both in mind and
body.

He couldn’t help but give her cheek a tender
kiss as he continued to look at her, unable to draw away his gaze.
He’d never met anyone quite like Cushla, free woman or slave, and
it lay sharp in his mind that no matter where he went in life, or
where she ended up he would never forget this moment. He would
never forget her name.

“So much for sex as punishment.” Tarken
rasped out between his heavy respirations.

“Indeed,” Cushla breathed out in a wispy
whisper and without opening her eyes. Her smile became wider. “Your
reprimand is my pleasure.”

Chapter Ten

“You’re a bastard, slavemaster.”

Tarken didn’t answer, nor did he look at
her.

He was trying to shake off the shattering
after affects of their lovemaking. His brain jerked askew, clouding
his word-finding ability, instead deciding to taunt him with images
of the sex they’d had. He could still feel her muscles clamping
wildly around his erection and the thought was causing his cock to
harden again.

Star demons!
He wanted to have his
way with her, coax her into one climax after another, and he wanted
to start by tasting her from bottom to top, stopping to linger at
the juncture of her sex, licking her until she—snarling inwardly,
Tarken berated his wayward thoughts, forcing himself to see the
woman sitting crossed-legged on the bed, as a slave, a piece of
property, a commodity easily sold or traded. She was nothing to
him! “Cushla, your actions still warrant punishing.”

“Punishment?” A shrill of utter fury jerked
along Cushla’s spine. “You ass fucker!”

Shifting to lean on the arm of the plush,
oversized chair he was sitting in, Tarken’s expression turned
pensive before he replied. “Now there’s a thought.”

Ashen, was the only way to describe Cushla’s
reaction to his remark. Her eyes glazed over and it seemed she was
lost in a thought. Her lids lowered as her head turned aside, and
the grimace on her face was acute.

If Tarken was willing to allow it, his heart
would’ve gone out to her. It was obvious someone had hurt her in
that manner. Instead, he pushed the sentiment aside. Her past was
none of his concern. “You’ve been uncooperative, Cushla.”

“I was willing!” She protested and glared at
him while reaching for the bedcovers.

“No covers.” Tarken held up his hand,
pointing his index finger in a scolding manner. “You were more than
willing, mistress. You came, and quite hard if I’m recalling it
correctly.”

“So did you.” Fisting the sheets in her
hand, Cushla glowered at him.

Tarken angled his head and inspected her
naked form. His body heated at the luscious sight of her. He
focused on her breasts. The smile that formed on his lips was
licentious. His eyes shifted upward to her face. “It was nice.”

To this, she narrowed her eyes, but then her
expression went cold.

Tarken was grateful for the reaction. At the
moment, he’d rather have her angry and resistive than to be
vulnerable to this woman who’s unrequited passion left his emotions
so open and raw. “I will overlook that you took my clothes.” He
stood, moving toward her stopping at the edge of the bed. “As for
leaving the room, you’ll be confined to quarters at next port and
probably a few thereafter.”

Tipping her head at an annoyed angle, Cushla
shifted her gaze toward the wall at the head of the bed. She
studied the patterned tapestry hanging there and continued to
listen.

“Had you not done so you would have been
given some freedom to explore, escorted of course until you could
be trusted.” Tarken reached, intending on grasping her chin to turn
her face toward him, but she jerked her head away, so he drew back.
“But for the time being you have lost that privilege.”

Cushla looked up at him. “What do you intend
to do, keep me confined for the remainder of my life?”

“If need be.” Tarken picked up his shirt
from the floor and donned it. He was already wearing his trousers.
“Of course it may not be my decision. It will depend on the wishes
of the King.”

Thinking about Mecor’s perverse tendencies,
something akin to guilt took hold of Tarken, but he pushed it
aside. He was the slavemaster and Cushla was the slave. There was a
job to be done here. “As for the food, I’ve seen how you like to
eat,” he continued. “You’ll forego meals for the next two dawnings.
I will allow you only water.”

Cushla sneered vilely. “I’ve gone without
food before.” Defiantly she pulled the linens over her body. “The
punishment is benign.”

“As for the sex…” Tarken ignored her
comment, but didn’t ignore the covering. He yanked if free and
tossed it to the floor. “We will continue to do that.”

Her luscious lips twisted into a sneer.
“Over my dead body.”

“Really now, Cushla…” Tarken crossed one arm
over the other and flashed a cocky smile. “I’m not into that.”

“You might as well be.” Cushla snorted. “I’m
sure most females who found themselves beneath you wore so bored
they appeared as dead.”

Turning away from her, Tarken walked over to
the mirror and combed his hair with his fingers. “No, but they
screamed loudly enough to wake the dead, almost as loudly as you
had, mistress.”

He caught her reflection in the mirror.

Her cheeks were flushing, and she appeared
absolutely embarrassed.

It amused him that she would react so coyly
at such a thing, especially since she was no novice at sex. Tarken
reconsidered that. He could consider her as virginal when it came
to having orgasms. And he’d been the first. Wrinkling his brow, he
realized he wanted to be the last, as well.

There was a knock at the door, and Tarken
tossed the abnormal thought aside. Turning, he headed toward the
door but glanced at Cushla before reaching it.

She fisted her hands tightly, her expression
pleading.

He nodded, realizing she wanted to cover
herself.

Cushla released a grateful sigh, snatched
the cover from the floor and pulled it over her naked body.

He considered punishing her by denying her
the covering, but then thought it might be too much, thus
inhibiting her training. Her temper was already inflamed enough,
and it was her compliancy he sought, not defiance.

“Your rub cherkin, m’ lord.” the servant at
the door stated and held out a wrapped tray.

Tarken took it from him, and nodded his
approval when he felt the warmth that radiated from the package.
Likewise, the aroma was equally delectable. Turning with the food
now in hand, he walked across the room and set it on a small dining
table. He then went to his bag and removed a small sachet, reaching
into it. “Do you have a credit chip?” he asked the servant.

“I do.” The servant pulled his monetary unit
from the pocket of his trousers and presented it to Tarken.

The slavemaster returned to the door and
interfaced his own credit chip with the servant’s transferring a
modest tip to the man. After the exchange, Tarken closed the door
and then turned to Cushla. He strolled closer to her and tossed his
credit chip on the nightstand, wondering if she was once again,
plotting a way to snatch it.

His attention shifted toward Cushla who
continued to sit quietly on the bed, the bedcover still wrapped
around her. He knelt down and grabbed the end of it, shoving the
material past her knees and clear up to the top of her thighs
giving him full view of her pussy.

She didn’t move, didn’t even tense.

Reaching, Tarken skimmed his palm up the
inside of her thigh. When he reached her juncture he immediately
inserted a finger inside of her vagina and slowly stroked in and
out. With satisfaction he watched as her eyes glazed over, but she
kept her body very still, her expression quite blank as if
pretending to be unaffected by what he was doing to her, but Tarken
could plainly see that she was. The warm fluid soaking his hand
belied the pretense.

When he pulled out of her suddenly, choosing
instead to rest his palms on the tops of her thighs, she gritted
her teeth, her nostrils flaring in apparent irritation, further
confirming her arousal.

He removed his hands from her body and stood
abruptly. “I have business to attend to.” It was a blatant lie.
“Take a bath and then find something to occupy yourself until I
return.” His eyes snapped toward the food, still wrapped and set on
the table. “That you will not touch.” Snatching his credit chip
from the bedside stand, Tarken turned away from Cushla and stomped
toward the chamber door.

It took great effort to separate from her,
to resist toppling her backwards onto the bed, spreading her legs
and burying his cock deeply inside of her, but he had to. Tarken
realized there was more at work here than his libido. Something was
thrumming in his heart, something he had no intention of
identifying.

* * * *

Nice…just nice?
Was that all he could
say? It was
nice.

Cushla narrowed her eyes angrily, trying to
obscure the hurt and humiliation. No beating could replace how
belittled she felt at his comment. It was keenly apparent now that
the slavemaster was discovering everything that bothered or upset
her. Even worse, he would use it against her for punishment.

She couldn’t believe her ears!

He still intended on punishing her after
what they just shared? Her entire body shook in outrage. She truly
wanted to kill the master! Why she had such violent thoughts,
Cushla refused to ponder, though deep inside she knew it was
because he aroused her beyond reason.

If Tarken could affect her in such a way,
how else might he overpower her?

Cushla stared at the closed door for several
ponderous moments, considering if she would dare defy him and leave
the room. Being of the belligerent sort, she rarely accepted
punishment without resistance, whether vocal or physical. Yet, for
some odd reason, this time she thought better of rebelling. Not
because she thought there would be any benefit to her being
obedient. No, never that! She vowed long ago that she would be
docile for no one.

It was more because Tarken made her nervous.
As determined as she was to resist, one touch from him and she
became a lusty heap of steamy mush. No man had ever caused her to
lose control like that. She had a strong feeling manipulating him
would be a difficult task. She needed to study him a little better,
develop a greater awareness of him, so that she might better
predict his reactions to certain situations.

“Fine!” Cushla grumbled loudly. In all
sincerity, she was glad he’d gone. Staring down at the bedcover,
she huffed and tossed it aside. Naked, she stood and stalked the
length, immediately furious with herself for allowing the
slavemaster to affect her in such a manner. What was wrong with her
anyway?

Cushla stared in the mirror, her gaze
running the length of her own reflection and shook her head. She’d
been nude in front others, nearly every dawning since being forced
into slavery. Her body had been scrutinized over and over again by
many, and it was something that stopped fazing her a very long time
ago. Why then did this—this despicable slavemaster cause her to
feel so timid, so exposed! “Ach!” she bellowed and turned away from
the mirror.

With a deliberately quick pace she stomped
to the bed and fell face first onto the mattress.

“An orgasm?” Cushla pursed her lips. “An
orgasm! What is wrong with you Cushla!” She chastised herself.
Memories of the orgasm she so wanted to loath, swept quickly
through her head and though she wanted to sweep it right back out,
her mind wouldn’t let it go. It escalated before she could even
stop it, bolted through her body, pounded and burst, her cum
gushing between her legs, soaking them both. Then she was crying
out in a paramount ecstasy, she never thought she’d ever experience
in her lifetime, and she had no wherewithal to even try and stop
it!

Cushla rolled onto her back. Reaching up,
she touched her lips and though about his kisses, savored the
memory of his hot breath on her face, close, sensual. She felt
intoxicated, sensations flooding her like tidal waters rushing
forth, and she didn’t know how to react, whether she’d sink or
swim, or just hang on for the ride. Her rational side fought with
her passionate side and through the haze of lust that was building
within her, she realized her desire was causing her will to
capsize. She wanted her slavemaster with the utmost urgency, and it
would be impossible for her to deny the sexual excitement he
stirred within her.

She had no idea when he’d removed his pants,
but he did. When he climbed on top of her and she felt his hardened
cock pressing against her inner thigh, of their own accord, her
legs parted inviting him to take her. She couldn’t help it. A
compelling awareness consumed her—a throbbing in her clit, her
labia. The erotic feeling seared through every rational thought and
rippled like small static shocks along every inch of her body as
his cock slid rapidly in and out of her.

Never before had she wanted a cock so badly.
Never before had the muscles inside of her contracted so fiercely,
grasping hungrily at his cock, heightening the euphoric sensation.
It pulsed through her body, and all she could do was writhe,
yielding to the incredible, carnal pressure building inside of her.
“Oh, blazing stars!” She cried out and sat up. “Damn you
slavemaster. Damn you!” She grasped her hair and violently shook
the thoughts from her head and forcing her mind to go numb.

Cushla’s stomach suddenly gurgled,
protesting its emptiness, and she realized she was hungry. Her
attention slid to the wrapped tray on the table. It smelled
irresistibly delectable.