Mastered By Love

by Tori Minard

  She could hardly ask him. It wasn’t allowed, after all. Besides, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

  ***

  Tariza was never so glad for woolens, even if they involved skirts that rucked up to expose her calves when she straddled a horse. The weather was cold in the mountains at this time of year. Snow began to fall by afternoon. A few sporadic flakes swirled lazily out of a pewter sky, only to melt the instant they touched the ground. Half an hour later, the snow had stopped but the wind had picked up, blowing the horses’ manes wildly. Dario – er, Saturnios – called the company to halt and make camp.

  The spot he’d chosen was flat enough, with a rocky outcropping on the north side to shield them from the wind. He dismounted, while Paolo dashed over to unfasten Tariza’s ankles so she could also dismount.

  The handful of soldiers accompanying them bustled around the site, laying out tents and hobbling horses. Dario – er, Saturnios – reached up and pulled her from the horses’ back.

  “I know how to dismount a horse,” she snapped.

  “You’re wearing a skirt.”

  “How observant of you to notice.”

  “Perhaps a spanking would teach you to keep a more civil tone when speaking to your master.”

  Tariza rolled her eyes. He kept threatening to spank her, but so far he hadn’t done it. “You don’t have the nerve.”

  His gaze turned to granite. “I’ve been too easy on you. That’s going to change, starting now.”

  Paolo led Blaze away to join the other horses. Saturnios took Tariza by the arm and pointed toward a small huddle of female figures in the lee of the outcropping. Their thick winter cloaks and scarves, and the layers of clothing beneath, obliterated any sense of the women’s individuality. She couldn’t tell one from the other.

  “Help the other women set up the kitchen,” Saturnios ordered.

  “Kitchen? I don’t know anything about cooking.”

  He gave her such a stern glare that she took an involuntary step backward. “I gave you an order, Tariza. Don’t make me repeat it.”

  She found herself swallowing hard. “All right. I’ll do it.”

  “The correct response is yes, Master or yes, milord.”

  Tariza stared at him.

  “Say it.” His voice was as hard as his eyes.

  “Don’t –”

  “Say it now.”

  She swallowed again. “Yes, Master.”

  “That’s better. Now go over there and see what they need you to do.”

  All she could manage was a nod. She turned toward the other women and walked numbly through the falling dusk, not looking back at Saturnios or at anyone else. The way he’d spoken to her ... it hurt. It felt like a slap in the face.

  She’d begun to relax around him, and that was a huge mistake. He was her enemy. Not an ally and certainly not a friend. An enemy. She mustn’t forget that fact ever again.

  Maybe she could find an ally among the women. Surely they would be inspired by the presence of a Concordian in their midst. The idea of a free woman would be a revelation to them.

  Then she remembered Lola’s toxic glare the day before and wasn’t so sure.

  One of the women glanced her way as she approached. The female reached out to tug at one of her companion’s sleeves. She whispered in the other woman’s ear. Both of them turned toward her, their expressions sour above the knit wrappings that protected their faces from the cold.

  “What do you want?” said the first one. She lifted her eyes and looked straight at Tariza. Blue eyes. Lola. Wonderful.

  Tariza cleared her throat. “Saturnios ordered me to help you.”

  Lola snorted. “Did he? You didn’t just make that up?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  The blonde shrugged. “How would I know why a Concordian bitch would do anything? You’re all crazy.”

  “If you don’t believe me, go and ask him. I wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t told me to come.”

  Lola and the other woman exchanged a glance.

  “Go ahead.” Tariza gestured toward Saturnios. “Ask him.”

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  She couldn’t see the other woman’s lips because a magenta woolen scarf covered half her face, but Lola’s voice was tight with resentment. Tariza pulled her own scarf over her nose and mouth. If the others concealed their faces, she would too. This way she could be just as inscrutable as they were. Ha.

  Lola pointed at the ground. “Clear an area for a fire. I’ll gather some wood to burn.”

  Tariza held her gaze for a moment before nodding. “All right.”

  She located the fire close to the rock wall, using her foot to scrape away the snow that still clung to the ground. There wasn’t much plant life growing here – the ground was mostly loose rock littering hard-packed earth. Glancing up, she found that Lola was already walking away toward a line of scrub bordering the road.

  Tariza looked up at the other woman, who bent over a canvas pack. “I haven’t got anything to dig with.”

  “So don’t dig.”

  She sighed. They seemed determined to hate her and be as unhelpful as possible. “Fine. I won’t dig.”

  Instead, she cleared a round space of larger rocks, which she used to rim the circle. There wasn’t anything here that could burn, so it should be fine. The job only took a few minutes, and afterward she stood up and tried to brush the clumps of dirt and snow off her mittens.

  The second woman pulled a large pot and a smaller bag from the sack. She crooked her finger at Tariza. “Come here and help me cut these carrots for the stew.”

  Surely she could manage to cut up a few carrots. She came over and sat on the rocky ground next to the other woman. It was miserable out here, with the wind blowing around the rocks and into their faces, swirling their skirts and freezing their legs. Shouldn’t they be eating trail food so they didn’t have to sit in this mess and cook?

  She glanced at the other woman sidelong. “Why do we have to cook? Can’t we eat dry bread and meat tonight?”

  “Saturnians aren’t lazy like you Concordians. We cook real food.”

  “It has nothing to do with laziness,” she said sharply. “I’d like to avoid frostbite. Wouldn’t you?”

  “It’s not my place to make these decisions. The men say they want cooked food and we provide it.”

  “Do they want us to lose our fingers and toes?”

  The woman glared at her. “Shut up and do as you’re told.”

  She handed Tariza a knife and a carrot. Tariza looked at the vegetable, then the blade. The idiot woman had just given her a weapon. Had Saturnios given any thought to what she might do with kitchen tools when he’d ordered her to help? Not that she could realistically do anything with a knife this small, outnumbered as she was.

  Sighing, she turned the blade to an acute angle and scraped at the skin. Her grip felt awkward and the job seemed to take forever, with tiny bits of carrot skin accumulating on the blade and getting in her way. But she kept at it, as her hands gradually grew numb with cold.

  The gravel crunched. Tariza glanced up to see Lola returning with an armful of sticks and branches for the fire. The blonde paused next to her and looked ostentatiously around the site, as if confused.

  “Where’s the firepit I told you to dig?” she said loudly.

  “Over there.” Tariza pointed at the spot.

  “There’s nothing there.”

  “It’s shallow, but it’s there. Just go a little closer and you’ll see it.”

  Lola snorted. She seemed to have a habit of doing that, and it wasn’t attractive. She hauled her sticks over to Tariza’s firepit, poking at it with her toe. “This isn’t a firepit. It’s a circle of rocks.”

  “It should be good enough. There’s nothing to burn right here anyway.”

  “I told you to build a firepit, not make a circle of rocks. Do it over.”

  “No. You can build a fire there just fine.”

&n
bsp; “You did it wrong. Now you need to fix your mistake.”

  Tariza sighed again. “I can’t dig in frozen ground. Besides, I don’t have any digging tools.”

  “You have your fingers.”

  She squinted up through the darkness at the blonde. “Are you serious? You want me to dig a hole in frozen ground with my bare hands?”

  “If that’s what it takes.”

  “Well, I won’t do it. You don’t need a firepit anyway. There’s nothing but rocks right here, and besides, you told me not to dig. Remember?”

  Lola dropped the wood at her feet and put her hands on her hips. “Are you backtalking me?”

  “You’re just a slave,” Tariza said. “Like me.”

  “I’m not like you. I’m a decent woman. Now dig the firepit or I’m going to get Prince Dario and he’ll make you do it.”

  “Go ahead.” Saturnios couldn’t possibly be as unreasonable as this crazy slave.

  Instead of leaving, Lola reached down and grabbed Tariza by the collar of her coat. A couple of men drifted over to watch the fight as the blonde tried to drag her to her feet. Tariza gripped the other woman’s forearms and pried her hands off her.

  “If you don’t know how to build a fire, Lola, maybe you should ask someone to show you. Honestly, you don’t need a firepit in a place like this.”

  “Of course I know how to build a fire.”

  Tariza stood. “Really? I thought all you did was simper and spread your legs.”

  “At least I’m a real woman and not a worthless freak like you.”

  The punch seemed to come out of nowhere. Tariza’s fist slammed into Lola’s jaw, sending the blonde tumbling backward onto the rocky ground. Tariza looked down at her hand. She still held the carrot, now broken, in her dirty mitten.

  Someone grabbed her by the arms and yanked her roughly backward. She stumbled into a hard male body. A wool-clad arm clamped painfully around her upper arms and chest, keeping her off-balance.

  “What in hell do you think you’re doing?” Saturnios snarled in her ear.

  “She insulted me.”

  He gave her a hard shake. “You don’t hit the other slaves. You don’t hit anyone, for any reason.”

  “But –”

  “Look at her.”

  Lola was curled on the gravel, crying loudly as the two men crouched next to her, speaking to her in low, soothing tones. What a lot of fuss over one punch. You’d think the woman had never fought before.

  Maybe she hadn’t.

  “She can’t defend herself,” Saturnios said. “She doesn’t know how to fight. Apologize.”

  “What? No!”

  “Apologize.” His tone cut like a whip.

  “You didn’t hear what she called me.”

  “I don’t care what she called you.” He shoved her forward, forcing her down to her knees. “Apologize.”

  Lola was snuffling, her blue eyes red-rimmed. Her jaw was starting to bruise. She looked helpless, pathetic, an unworthy adversary.

  Tariza clenched her teeth. “I’m sorry.” She had to push the words out.

  Lola stared at her for a moment. Then she spat. The glob of spittle struck Tariza on the chin.

  The men laughed. Lola smirked. Tariza wiped Lola’s spit off with the same hand she’d used to punch her.

  Saturnios hadn’t laughed. He hauled her to her feet and dragged her backward, away from the clot of others. She couldn’t see where they were going. Her feet slipped in the snow. He jerked her upright and kept going.

  Chapter 8

  The darkening sky and gathered Saturnians disappeared abruptly behind the red canvas of his tent. It wasn’t the big field tent but a smaller, wedge-shaped one just big enough for a bed and a couple of trunks. He spun her around and sat down on his camp bed, throwing her face down across his knees.

  “What are you doing?” She struggled to get to her feet.

  Saturnios pinned her to his lap with one heavy arm while he dragged her skirts up with his free hand. Cold air kissed her bare skin.

  “I’m spanking you.”

  “Don’t you dare!” She got her elbows beneath her and tried to lever herself off him, but he merely leaned on her and kept her in place.

  “You don’t seem to understand your status, Tariza.” He smacked his palm hard against her ass. She winced at the sting. “You’re a slave. If I want to spank you, I’ll do it.”

  He delivered a series of blistering strikes on her ass, alternating cheeks to create a blur of pain. Tariza bit down on her lip, squirming under the blows. She would not cry out. She wouldn’t make a sound.

  Even though he was hurting her. And humiliating her. Tariza’s eyes began to water. Her skin felt like it was on fire. No-one had spanked her since she was ten years old. Only males were spanked as adults.

  In Concordia.

  Saturnios quit slapping her and began instead to squeeze and fondle the sore globes of her ass. “You’re no longer a princess. You’re my slave. I can spank you and fuck you wherever and whenever I like. Understand?”

  She grimaced, hating him. “Yes.”

  “Do you?” He pinched her.

  “Ow! Yes. I understand.”

  He had the nerve to laugh, a low sound that made her want to bite him. “I doubt that. But you will, because I’m not going to let you forget it.” He smacked her again. “I’m going to remind you several times a day, Tariza.”

  Hate him. Hate him. Hate him.

  The smacks ceased. His fingers swept lazily over her cheeks before slipping between them.

  “You’re quite wet,” he said, smug male satisfaction in every word.

  “I am not!” She couldn’t be after what he’d done.

  “Oh, but you are.” His forefinger moved slickly between her folds. “Feel that? You’re dripping for me. You want to be dominated.”

  “No.”

  “Yes, you do. Admit it. All those poor slave men bore you. They’re so predictable and weak. You want a real man, one who won’t let you boss him around.”

  She forced a laugh. “I suppose you think you’re a real man?”

  Saturnios smacked her again – once, twice on each cheek. An involuntary squeak escaped her.

  “Speak to me with respect or I’ll continue to punish you.”

  “I’ll never respect you.”

  Another set of smacks brought tears to her eyes. The moisture rolled down her face. She pressed her lips together until they were numb, to stop herself from making any pathetic noises.

  He quit spanking her to shove her thighs apart. “This is what you’re for. You’re a slave, not a fighter. Don’t ever let me see you hit anyone again.”

  Once again his fingers boldly explored her cunt. Yet he touched her so gently there, never hurting her, never tearing at the tender flesh the way she’d once feared that he would.

  Instead, he probed her wet sheath, worked the cream in luxurious strokes all over her pussy, a barely audible moan issuing from his throat. Tariza quivered.

  “You want me,” he said, his voice thick.

  She opened her mouth to deny it, but the words refused to leave her. Because he was right. She ached for him, her lashes fluttering, eyes rolling up at the exquisite sensation of his touch on her.

  Saturnios lifted her off his knees, so the bed supported her upper body. She didn’t fight him. What would be the point? There was no escape from this place; not at the moment, anyway.

  His clothes rustled behind her. Then his mouth descended hot and wet on her pussy and she gasped. His big hands spread her wide for the explorations of his lips and tongue. He seemed to know exactly how to kiss her to inflict the most pleasure on her.

  He moaned again, his tongue plunging deep inside her. Tariza gave an answering moan. She couldn’t control herself with him, couldn’t stop her fingers from clawing at the bedding or her legs from opening even wider, wordlessly begging for more.

  He removed his mouth from her body and she nearly cried at the loss. More rustling ensue
d. Large hands grasped her hips, steadying her as the thick, blunt head of his cock probed her cunt. He was going to mount her like a stallion mounts a mare – like a male slave mounts another male slave.

  “No!” She tried to crawl away across the bed. “Not from behind!”

  “Hush.” He pressed her into the bed, keeping her still while he rubbed his cock against her dripping folds with a soft groan.

  His weight oppressed her, the hot press of his body unbearably arousing. He was too strong for her to fight, his maleness unchained, dominating her, and that realization made her tremble with fear and yearning. Goddess, perhaps she did want to be dominated.

  “Please,” she whispered. “I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can, slave.”

  Tariza whimpered against the red wool blanket. He shoved his way into her, just an inch, giving another of those low-voiced moans. She gasped.

  He flexed his hips, rocking against her as he worked himself deep inside her. Delight bloomed in her, sharp aching bursts of it as he pushed deeper and deeper.

  “So tight,” he rasped. “So damn tight.”

  A final thrust put him as deeply inside her as he could go. She cried out, clutching at the blanket, helpless. She couldn’t see him, could only feel his hands grasping her hips, his pelvis bumping rhythmically against hers.

  And his cock, impossibly big, spearing her mercilessly, over and over. She couldn’t stop her cries of ecstasy. This position allowed him to penetrate her so deeply, made the pleasure so intense her cries turned to shrieks and sobs.

  Saturnios reached around, one-handed, to search between her legs. He found her clit and Tariza exploded in a punishing orgasm.

  His thrusts picked up speed and force, growing wilder as he groaned her name. The sound of her name on his lips excited her so much she lifted her hips to him, thrusting back against him as the pleasure coiled tighter and tighter, rising toward a second climax.

  Dario shouted, his voice rough and deep as his fingers bit into her hips. Another orgasm burst gloriously over her. He groaned, his movements slowing.

  He’d decimated her, slain her, laid her waste. She lay panting into the covers on his bed, not knowing whether to cry or rage. He panted, too, his breath blowing in soft, warm gusts against the back of her neck. And then he bit her there, his teeth gently scoring her skin.