| "Erin!"
The
young woman looked up from her work with a start, almost dropping
the dough she was kneading. A shiver of apprehension combined
with an unidentifiable thrill, and her heart instantly beat
faster. She glanced at the large housemistress and dusted
off her hands, aware of the all-too-apparent displeasure in
the woman's eyes.
"The
master calls."
Not
waiting for the grumbled acquiescence, she hurried to obey the
man's shout, rolling her eyes when he again yelled, "Slave!"
If he knew what he was dealing with, perhaps he'd be a little
less impatient, she thought.
It
was the third time this week. She wasn't sure whether
to be anxious or joyful about his increasing interest.
Things were progressing perfectly, yet her life balanced precariously
enough already. As it stood, her existence was worth little,
her scrawny frame fed only to ensure constant work. At
least this way she could become a value-added commodity.
She smirked to herself, admitting she enjoyed some aspects of
her labour.
She
found him in the far wing, reclining naked on the massive bed
eating peaches. Adjusting her thin garment, she bowed
low, aware of his hungry gaze on her body, then stood silently,
already knowing what his command would be.
"Pull
the curtain," he ordered, and she did so. He waited
with a languid smile, self assured and relaxed, while she secured
the space. The wife was not a forgiving person.
She
approached the bed and he sat up, swinging his legs over the
edge and pulling her between them, watching her pretty face
with its eyes traditionally downcast. Gently he nudged
her chin, made her look at him, and she again cursed his attractiveness.
His jaw was slashed with scars from the wars, yet they only
highlighted the swift lines of his cheekbones and the fawn-like
quality of his pale blue eyes. If only he didn't resemble
Pan so! Then I could despise him as I should.
Still
holding her gaze, he reached back and brought around the peach,
holding it up for her to taste. At first she refused,
despising her position as the kept animal, but the tangy smell
of the bitten fruit broke her determination. She received
so little true food, it would be a tragedy to deny it when freely
offered. Slowly she bent her head, biting the crisp flesh
with ill contained fervour. The sweetness thrummed in
her mouth, and the sticky juice dribbled down her chin, dripping
lazily onto her chest and staining the cloth. He watched
her eat, and she could sense his enjoyment, wondering if it
came of his victory, or from the simple act of generosity.
She could never tell; he was a hybrid of kindness and cruelty.
He
was kissing her before she was ready, tasting the fruit around
her mouth eagerly. She met his lips with a subtle hesitation,
wanting him to think she wasn't such an easy prize, although
it was a foregone conclusion. In reality, she had no choice,
submitting to his roving hands with a mixture of obedience and
desire, letting her robe fall to reveal her taut flesh.
Again
she was surprised by his tenderness, the way he took time to
massage each nipple as though he were caressing the finest jewels
in the empire, rubbing peach juice across her breasts and leaving
finger streaks like strong letters across the canvas of her
body. She knew he revelled in the slimness of her shape,
and the smooth roundness of her bosom, each filling his hand
like overripe fruit. He thought they'd been made specifically
for him.
Standing
and holding her hips, her steered her around and sat her on
the bed. Uncertain of his intent, she was astonished when
he knelt before her, between her knees, and began to nuzzle
her belly. He'd never assumed such a submissive position
before, and a smile crept unseen to her reddened lips.
When he pushed her onto her back she had to stifle a giggle,
at the same time feeling deeply aroused by the way he langouriously
spread her legs and peered at the treasure within, gently prodding
her clitoris with the tip of his thumb. She smothered
a cry of triumph in a moan as he plunged his tongue between
her lips, seeking the source of moisture while conversing lightly
with her swelling bud. It was a sensation she'd experienced
only once before, though the ranks of lovers and rapists were
many, and her heart glowed with a rogue gratitude, just as her
mind revelled and her nerves strained with pleasure.
Her
orgasm brought a scream to her lips, aborted by a strong hand
across her mouth. Though she was silent, he kept it there
for several moments, and she smelled sweat over the scent of
rosewater. His expression was a paradox of tenderness
and fury; he too understood the sacrifice made. With sudden
force he took hold of her wrists, binding them with strips of
soft leather obtained from under a pillow, and rolled her onto
her stomach. Now her naked buttocks were raised high, and she
knew he took great pleasure in strapping them with his leather
whip, kept by the bedside for just such an occasion. She
cried out in pain, angered that he should turn such a moment
into another beating, yet certain the punishment would not last
long; his arousal was too great.
"Slave!"
he cried triumphantly, inserting the handle of the whip into
her back passage before thrusting into her like an armageddon,
slamming himself back and forth with furious abandon.
She pressed her face into the bed, ignoring the pain, riding
the echoes of her climax to further pleasure, though her instincts
protested profoundly. I grow too cocky, she thought.
Patience is required... or perhaps something more.
Finally
it was done and he lay prone, his breathing loud and relaxed.
Still tied, she lay exhausted next to him, studying his face,
her eyes remembering every line and every fold.
"I
could kill you right now if I chose," she said softly to
his sleeping form. But she didn't, knowing the time would
come, knowing she could wait.
The
glare of the full moon gave the standing stones dark, brooding
shadows as she began the ceremony, pleased she had escaped the
house without incident. Reverently, she drank the infusion,
feeling its warmth in her belly as it loosened her mind.
She danced like a wraith, her naked skin silver, goosebumps
raised across her body. Beginning the chant, she invoked
his image, recalling his face in perfect detail as she invoked
his spirit. The spell was dangerous, and the ritual must
be performed precisely, yet she felt little concern for her
own safety, filled instead with desire and elation and the knowledge
that all would be well. She called him to her, mastering
his spirit when she felt its presence, probing his emotions
and grasping the vital one, the unspecified essence which bound
him to her. On and on she chanted, the stars wheeling
overhead, until, at last, the body followed where the spirit
had led, and he emerged, unclothed and dishevelled, into her
circle of power. With a cry of joy she uttered the final
words of mystery and, invincible under the watch of mother moon,
took possession of him
"Slave!"
She
lay relaxed on the comfortable sleeping pallet, hearing the
gentle noises of the night outside. It was a beautiful
place this, so protected and serene, blessed by the goddess
and untouched by the Romans. She doubted they would ever
dare approach, let alone succumb to the protective spells she
had carefully laid around them. Never again would she
be captured or made submissive by their strange and violent
culture, lost to the forces of nature and cast aside by the
gods. Here she was safe. Here she could come into
the legacy of power that had originally been denied her, and
here she could pass that knowledge on to others, so that the
work could continue.
He
peered through the door, his fawn-face smiling beautifully.
"Must you call me that?" And he brought forward
the two peaches he was holding, offering her the fruit with
adoring eyes.
"Well,
Gaius, that's not exactly what I had in mind," she
said playfully, pulling him down to her. As he kissed
her she thought, He will never remember what he once was,
and she frowned inwardly, still a little ashamed of her methods,
though proud of her victory.
"I
love you," he whispered as he made love to her, and again
she felt the twinge of guilt, like a splinter in her hand.
Such devotion! She looked into his eyes, trying to overcome
the negative emotion, consciously filling her soul with happiness
and passion and love for him, and letting him know it was there.
Afterwards
she lay in his arms, aware of the prize she had obtained, suddenly
wishing there'd been a way to achieve her goal other than the
path she had followed. It took hours before she could
calm her mind to sleep.
She
awoke suddenly, the dream persisting in her mind, the remembered
words still haunting her. The magic only brings to
bear on existing things, the wise one had said, so many
years ago.
He
loved me before,
she realised, and turning, hugged him fiercely, knowing he would
make a fine father for the daughter she must bear.
This
story also appears at Free
Porn for Women |
