Slavemaster's Woman, The (25 page)

Her expression was
almost—fearful—innocent.

Her claim that no man had ever put his mouth
on her clit, licked her there, drove his lust to cosmic heights.
“Now, mistress.” Tarken's mastered gaze upon her was firm as again,
he waited.

She swallowed hard, and her chest began to
rise and fall in rapid successions.

He knew she felt vulnerable, and wondered if
she would resist or comply.

With a seeming trepidation, Cushla drew her
legs up and then let them slowly part.

A primal grin creased Tarken's lips. His
heart pounded as he admired the way her female lips separated to
expose her swollen clit, her inner lips doing the same, flowering
open to reveal her glistening slit. A dominating sense surged
inside of him. Never before had his position as a slavemaster and
the power he had over another excite him this much, making his
blood roar hot.

Her body glistened with beads of sweat as
she trembled, lying open to him in very way.

Tarken wanted to own Cushla in every sense
of the word. Make her his. Command her to be his woman in every
manner, dedicated bodily, mentally and emotionally only to him. A
possessive growl escaped him, and he lowered his head, his mouth
opening and latching onto her pussy. He relished in the idea he was
the first to give her this.

“Blazing comets!” Cushla shrieked and
attempted to scramble away again.

Tarken pinned her hips with his hands,
forcing her to submit. He continued to suck until her clit was
swelling and throbbing, his tongue making quick, circular swipes
over the hood.

A tremor rattled though her core and her
thighs, her orgasm imminent, her body demanding as she clutched at
his hair, frantic to keep his tongue there. “Don't stop!” Cushla
cried out. She tipped her pelvis upward finding a more stimulating
position against Tarken's mouth, the sensation between her legs
becoming so intense her entire body quaked.

With a driving determination, he kept
sucking and then licking, and when Cushla’s crooning elevated until
she was near screaming, he stuck two fingers inside of her, his
tongue proceeding in rhythmic strokes until her hips lifted from
the bed.

Her climax hit, moisture, hot and fluid
seeped from her core.

Tarken groaned with a primal force guiding
him as he tasted, and drank her in.

Power, raw and demanding tore through
Cushla's body. Torridly, she shook almost violently as a forced
wild cry of anguished pleasure ripped from her. “My
slavemaster!”

“Yes, Cushla,” Tarken rasped out. “I am your
master.”

Lost in euphoria, she seemed only half aware
of Tarken climbing over her body, her head thrashing from side to
side. He pressed on top of her, his hips settling between her
willfully outspread thighs, his cock, stiff and thick penetrating
her. Cushla yelped as he sank into her, bringing her to a new
height of ecstasy.

She was thrusting upward to angle him more
deeply inside of her
.
“I love you, Tarken.”

She loved him.
Tarken groaned as he
took her mouth with his own.

She kissed him back with a crazed obsession,
her fingers digging into his hair, his arms slipping beneath her to
clench her bottom as she wrapped her legs around him. Their groins
slammed together, Tarken grinding into her, Cushla grinding back,
their bodies a tangled inferno of unbridled passion. All that was
tangible around them became null, and they were oblivious of
unmoored objects crashing, and the walls that vibrated around them
as their bodies became suspended.

She was coming again…the excitement of it
causing a surging pressure in Tarken's shaft, his balls tightening
as Cushla's vagina gripped him tightly. She was beautiful, erotic,
and exotic—so very exotic—and he couldn't help being mesmerized by
her enchanting crystal stare, now becoming prismatic once more.

There was something magical in them, in
her—a transcendental essence that resonated from her, weaving its
way through him, binding, melding and enslaving him. Tarken
breathed it in, savored it, possessed it, craved it as thought the
absence of it would mean the arresting of his own heart.

She seized against him, embracing Tarken,
gripping him tightly with her legs and arms, her hips in the same
frantic yet rhythmic pace as his own. His cock swelled, stiffening
further, ecstasy devouring him, the surge of carnal delirium
overwhelming him, as he slid in and out of her slick sheath.

Cushla's cry of passion infused his senses,
driving him over the edge and they reached it together. Their
orgasms collided. Fire shot through his shaft, his body quaking as
Cushla shuddered. He spewed into her even as she spewed back, their
juices combining, the climatic release charging through their
nerves, through their flesh in thunderous bursts of near unbearable
pleasure.

They both cried out.

Breathless, they continued to cling to each
other, their hips still moving in harmonic grinds against each
other slowing gradually, their minds in a daze, only vaguely aware
that the room was in shambles, only vaguely aware of the lightness
leaving their still-joined bodies as they settled back down and
sank into the mattress, Cushla, becoming small and feminine beneath
Tarken.

Shifting slightly to the side of her, he
drew his arms around her, holding her tightly. She settled against
him, her muscles relaxing. No words were exchanged between them.
None were needed. Even as he held her to him, he could still sense
the essence of freedom that claimed her, claimed him—his freebird,
his Libertas…
His!

As if confirming his sentiments Cushla
turned in his arms, facing him. Pressing her cheek to his chest,
she inhaled, held it, and then released it slowly, her warm breath
fanning across his chest like a comforting blanket. She tipped her
head back and studied him, her eyes first locking to his before
roaming his face, her gaze caressing his features as strongly as if
she were touching him. Her nostrils flared. Her lips pursed, and
for a brief moment she stiffened in his embrace as her eyes shifted
upward to meet his gaze once more.

He saw pain there, the emotion seeming to
cut through her so deeply it pierced him. She must’ve seen the
strain of sharp reaction on his face because her hand came up, her
fingers tracing the lines on his forehead until he felt his own
facial muscles relax. Her fingertips settled on his lips, tracing
the crease. Cushla closed her eyes slowly and then opened them
again. When she did, he saw that the pain had faded, replaced by a
shroud of sadness now filling them, the emotion Tarken saw cutting
so deeply his heart wrenched for her.

“They decided it was time I shred my
virginity—I guess.” She continued her treacherous tale from where
she left off when they were in the eatery’s garden. Her voice
sounded distanced when she spoke—flat, as if the very life was
draining from her, and then her lids fell shut. She opened them
again and sighed, blinking a few times before the vacancy he’d come
to loath consumed them.

“How old were you when you were sold into
slavery?” He asked, softly stroking her hair as she rested her head
on his chest.

“I was five when I was taken as a slave,”
she paused for a moment, “I was not good for much except being a
companion to the owner’s children or helping in the kitchens. I
stayed with my first master until I was eight. Then I was sold and
then sold again when I was nine. That is when…” Cushla stopped
speaking, pursed her lips, took a heavy breath and continued. “I
was bought by a household that had many slaves, mostly females,
most quite young.”

Tarken could sense her anxiety rising in the
way she spoke and the way her hand stiffened where it had been
resting on his chest as she began to speak. He said nothing, but
just kept lightly stroking her hair. Inside however, his stomach
was churning with pure dread.

“When they…” Cushla gulped. “When the men
came to look at us, there were no girls over the age of eleven
solars and all of us were virgins. We were either newly captured or
gently used in the household like I was. They lined us up naked and
the men, six in all, looked us over, touched us, even sniffed at
us.” She suppressed a shudder. “I was bought, along with another
girl. She was as naïve as I was and had no idea what was going on.”
Cushla was silent for a time as though memories flashed through her
mind.

Tarken could tell when the memories became
difficult for her to think about because her legs would move
restlessly. He tightened one arm around her and continued to calmly
stroke her hair.

Seeming to seek that comfort, her hand
slipped from his chest and encircled his waist. “We were made to
serve them naked and they had collars around our necks as well as
the slave bands we wore. Sometimes, they attached leashes to the
collars and led us around like animals. Some of the girls would
walk around like automation machines, their eyes and expressions so
blank that it was difficult to even know if they were alive or
android. When they weren’t given an order, they would stand
lifeless, staring off into space. Others were cruel to us, slapping
and yelling to us. But a few of them were nice and tried to help
us, tried to warn us of what would happen, tried to ease the way…”
Cushla’s voice trailed off though her eyes still held that vacant
stare.

Tarken held her and waited, the bile rising
in his throat. He knew of these types of men in the universe—cruel
for cruelty’s sake.

“They sold the one I was to replace and
brought me into a room with a bed and restraints. They told me to
get on the bed and lay down. I told them I wasn’t tired and didn’t
want to lie down. I wanted to go back to the holding room.” She
drew a shuttering breath as she seemed to relive it. “On the walls
hung whips and more restraints and stuff I don’t’ even know to this
day what they were. One man grabbed me from behind, I kicked and
screamed and fought so hard. It took three of them to tie me to
that bed. I gave one a bloody nose with a kick. This seemed to
excite them, my fighting like that…” Cushla paused and took a
wrenching breath.

The scene she laid out for Tarken became all
too real in his mind and hatred rose in him.

“They all removed their clothing and stood
around the bed stroking their cocks. They seemed so huge to me, so
ugly. I fought the restraints as they jacked off and spewed on me.
I started begging, pleading not to do this, I would be a good slave
I would do anything else they asked, if they would just let me go
back to the holding room—they laughed and—they all started touching
me. Still, I pleaded. One man tried to force me to take him into my
mouth. I tried to keep my lips sealed. I tried to turn my head, but
he grabbed my hair and tried to force me. He pinched my nose and I
was unable to breathe while his other hand squeezed my neck so
tightly I thought I would die from suffocation…” Cushla’s voice
sounded strained as though she couldn’t breathe with the
telling.

Tarken held his breath too, as he waited for
the rest of the nightmare story.

She expelled her breath and went on, “I had
to open my mouth to scream, to breathe, I don’t know, but when I
did he shoved his cock in my mouth and warned me to keep from
biting him or he would slit my throat. At the same time—another man
got on top of me and tried to force himself into me. I was too dry
and too tight...”Cushla released an anguished sound and pulled away
from Tarken, sitting up on the bed as if being touched at the
moment was too much to bear.

Silence filled the room as he patiently
waited.

“They brought some kind of oily liquid and
poured it over my genitals and he slid his cock up and down on me
several times and then he ripped into me hard. He was so big and I
was so small, it hurt—oh stars did it hurt! I screamed and
screamed. The man that had my hair kept forcing his cock into my
mouth, into my throat, and they both came at the same time. I
choked and threw up all over the place, and in consequence one of
the men slapped me many times. As he was doing that another man
climbed on top of me and entered me. I don’t’ remember much after
that. Just moments of clarity—of me screaming and all of them
taking turns pounding into me. They reveled in the blood. If their
cocks were marked with blood they were strutting around, if not,
they tried again harder to get me to bleed on them.”

“Demons of hell…” Tarken gasped loudly
pulled her to him and held her tightly, cradling her against his
chest. He could feel her tears as they fell onto his flesh, and his
mind began reeling with murderous anger at what was done to
her.

“I died inside that night, Tarken.” Cushla
sniffled and then swiped at her tears. “Just as you did the eve
your wife passed.”

“I was a man, fully grown, Cushla.” Tarken
kissed the top of her head and then rested his cheek there. “You
were a child, still learning the unknown. Your hell is a monster
compared to mine.”

Within a short time, her muscles relaxed and
she became still. She slept within his embrace, and Tarken listened
to her easy breathing stealing the rhythm of his own contented
breaths. He was truly relieved that she had finally opened up to
him completely, not to use it against her but because he simply
cared and that was all there was to it.

Something tragic, something truly traumatic
had happened to Cushla, and Tarken wanted so badly to hold her in
his arms forever, and comfort her, to tell her that nothing
horrible would ever happen to her again, that as long as she was
with him he would protect her from harm. He gritted his teeth. How
could he promise her such a thing when she belonged to the
king?

Just as before, he made every attempt to
cast aside the wayward thought but it was too much of a struggle,
and he failed miserably this time. He no longer saw Cushla as a
slave to be trained and it was impossible to be removed emotionally
where she was concerned. She was a friend and he desired to be a
friend to her—more than a friend.