by Tori Minard
“I’ll share her with you, up to a point,” Dario said. “But not with anyone who wants her. She’s my personal slave. I’ve put my name on her arm.”
Mateo pinched her nipple, making her shiver. “All right. After all, we have plenty to go around. Now, about that slap.”
His hand smacked her hard on her ass, right over one of the bruises from the night before. She cried out through clenched teeth.
“Mateo, she’s been beaten,” Dario said. “Her ass is severely bruised. Don’t hit her there again.”
“I apologize for that,” Mateo replied. “However, Tariza, you will not hit me or any other man, understand? If you do, you’ll receive a punishment.”
Her eyes watered. She looked away from him. His hand was still on her breast, making her feel weirdly aroused and furious at the same time.
“I asked you a question, Tariza. Do you understand?”
“Yes, damn you.”
“Swear at me again and you’ll get another dose of pain. Now answer me properly.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Yes, what?”
What else was there? What did he want from her? Oh ... that. “Yes, Master.” It was the first time she’d had to address a man other than Dario in that fashion.
Mateo petted her head. “Very good. You’re learning.”
If only she could bite off his fingers. Maybe then he’d learn something.
“Well, let’s sit for breakfast,” Dario said. “Tariza stays with me.”
Mateo grinned at him. “You’re determined not to share, aren’t you? You know, I haven’t had a woman for nearly a week. Don’t you think you ought to give her to me?”
“There are plenty of other, better trained females around here. Get one of them.” Dario tugged on her hand.
She followed him to the table. He pulled out a chair. A cushion had been placed next to it, and she knelt.
“Good girl,” Dario murmured.
The door opened. Tariza glanced toward it. From under the table she could only see the bare legs of the woman who came toward them. The legs went right to Mateo, who’d taken the chair opposite Dario. When the woman reached him, she also sank to her knees. It was Lola.
She flicked a glance at Tariza, her face smug. Tariza thought about slapping her, too, but that would probably only get her another spanking.
“What is your desire, Master?” Lola said in a nauseatingly husky, come-hither voice.
“Suck me off.”
Lola reached for Mateo’s trousers and unfastened them, allowing his half-engorged cock to spring out. Damn, he was big, as big as Dario. The blonde took his cock in her hand, rubbing it, and Mateo gave a satisfied moan.
“Good girl.” He moaned again. “Suck it, Lola. Show Tariza how it’s done.”
Lola flashed her another smug glance before taking Mateo’s cock in her mouth. Apparently the silly bitch thought she was something special because she was allowed to suck the crown prince’s cock. Didn’t she know it should be the other way around; that as a man, he should be on his knees before her? A sudden urge to laugh seized Tariza and she bit down on her lower lip to stop herself. Laughing would only get her in more trouble.
She’d thought that after her abortive escape attempt she’d never have Concordian thoughts again. She’d felt so beaten, so empty inside. Yet here they were again, mocking her with what ought to be instead of what was.
She’d never really seen a woman sucking cock the way Lola was doing it. Concordian women did it to tease the men under their control, to torment them. Lola went after it wholeheartedly, as if she’d get a prize for giving Mateo the quickest orgasm possible.
Her blond head bobbed up and down, wet sounds coming from her mouth, along with little gasps for air. She was taking him deep into her throat, so deep her face was almost pressed into his groin on the down strokes. Mateo’s hand rested on her head, stroking her as he moaned and sighed.
Tariza’s sex began to stir, aching at the blatantly erotic display before her. She was a weak woman, unworthy of her position in Concordia if she could be so easily aroused by these disgusting barbarians. Yet her pussy seemed to be uninterested in politics or the necessity of female domination. It simply wanted to be fucked.
Mateo rocked his hips in time to Lola’s bobbing head. She couldn’t see his face – the table blocked her view – but his groans grew louder and more frequent until he grabbed Lola’s head, holding her all the way down as he shouted his pleasure to anyone within hearing. The blonde swallowed convulsively, drinking down all the come he spewed into her throat.
Tariza glanced up at Dario. He was sitting in his chair, looking bored. He probably could see less than she, given his position. But there was a thick bulge in his trousers that told her he was less bored than he seemed.
Mateo patted Lola on the head. “Good job.”
“I am honored to be able to please you, Master.” Lola wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
“You may remain next to me for the meal.”
“Thank you, Master.” She shot another look at Tariza, one of triumph.
Tariza merely stared back until the blonde dropped her gaze. If Lola thought she’d impressed the Concordian, she was sadly confused.
“Damn you, Mateo, now you’ve got me going again,” Dario said, laughing.
“Well, do something about it.”
Tariza could see the crown prince’s hand stroking Lola’s bent head as the blonde slave knelt beside his chair.
“Hmm,” Dario said. “Yes, I think I will.”
He turned his chair to face her and opened his knees. “Suck my cock, Tariza.”
A narrow-eyed glare rose up in her. She fought it down. There was no point in courting another spanking, or something even worse.
Her hands trembled slightly as she freed him. His cock was already fully engorged, the broad head almost purple with excitement. A drop of pre-come glistened at the tip.
Could she get him as far back in her throat as Lola had Mateo? The other time she’d taken Dario into her mouth, she hadn’t gotten his cock so deep.
Tariza leaned forward and licked the tip of him. He tasted salty, even somewhat familiar. Dario’s breath gave a little hitch. She did it again and ran her tongue around the flange at the base of the head.
“Take the whole thing in your mouth,” he said, his voice husky.
She opened her jaws and took him in as far as she could, until he pushed against her palate. Any farther and she’d choke. God, was she really doing this? Was this really Tariza Concordia, naked on her knees before a man, with his cock in her mouth? Arousal and humiliation battled inside her as she moved her mouth up to the tip of him and then back down as far as she could bear it.
“Deeper.” He pushed down on her head.
She tried. But when his cock shoved past her comfort zone, it made her gag loudly, her stomach heaving. Tariza choked and he allowed her to withdraw.
“Use your hand, then,” he said. “Like you did before.”
She clutched the base of him with one hand, using her mouth on the tip. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Lola smirking. The blonde obviously saw Tariza as incompetent and for some idiotic reason it annoyed the Concordian.
Rubbing and sucking him furiously, she tried to make him come as quickly as possible. The faster he came, the sooner she could stop. Her jaws ached from the unaccustomed position and she felt awkward – even more so than the first time – but Dario seemed to be enjoying it, judging by the noises he made.
Mateo got out of his chair and walked around the table to observe. She flushed, her skin burning all the way down to her chest. He probably thought she was incompetent, too.
Dario threw back his head with a deep groan. “Swallow it, Tariza.”
Hot come spurted into her mouth. The weird gelatinous texture of it made her want to gag again. But the threat of a spanking made her swallow it down.
“Good girl,” he murmured, petting her head. “That was ve
ry good.”
“She doesn’t know what she’s doing,” Mateo said. “I would have made her deep throat me.”
“She’s not ready for that yet.” Dario continued stroking her. His gentle touch and defense of her to Mateo made her eyes sting.
“And she never will be at the rate you’re going. You’re too easy on her; you’re spoiling her, and she’ll never learn her place.”
Dario glanced up at his brother. “You deal with your slaves in your way, but she’s mine.”
Mateo sighed. “All right. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
As the crown prince turned away, Dario rolled his eyes. Tariza bent her head and pretended she hadn’t noticed. The two obviously had a major difference of opinion on how to treat their slaves.
“She made me come,” Dario said, stroking the crown of her head. “That’s good enough for now.”
Under the table, Lola smirked even more openly. She wouldn’t look like that if Tariza slapped the smile off her face. But that would assuredly get her another severe spanking. She gave a surreptitious sigh.
The dining room door opened to admit a stream of servants carrying trays of food, which they set on the table before the men. The savory scent of eggs and sausages made Tariza’s mouth water. The food here was exceptional. They might be able to break her simply by using their food as reward.
“Tariza must wait until we’re finished to eat,” Mateo said.
Dario’s hand stilled. “She’s hungry. She needs food.”
“Well, this is my table,” Mateo belatedly countered, “and I say she waits until you and I are finished before she gets a bite.”
Tariza couldn’t see Dario’s face, but his other hand clenched in his lap. “You have a mean streak, brother.”
Mateo laughed. “How do you think I get such perfect obedience from my girls?”
Her stomach let out a loud growl, demanding food.
“It will teach her a valuable lesson,” the crown prince said. “Slaves wait until their masters are finished, unless the master decides otherwise.”
Under the table, Mateo offered a bite of sausage to Lola. She took it from his fingers with her mouth, looking sideways at Tariza as she did. Then she chewed it slowly, staring at Tariza and smiling.
The hollow space in Tariza’s stomach roared. Her hands began to tremble. She looked down at her knees. If she didn’t look at the blonde monster, she couldn’t be angered by what Lola did.
“Tariza has earned her breakfast,” Dario said. “Either she eats with us, or I take her back to my rooms.”
Mateo was silent for a moment. Lola’s mouth thinned, her lips pressed together as if she’d bitten into something sour.
“What’s going on with you?” the elder brother said. “I’ve never seen you this way with a slave before.”
“Will you allow her to eat, or do we leave?” Dario said.
“Very well.” Mateo gave an aggrieved sigh. “Let her eat.”
“Thank you.” Dario immediately offered her a bite of egg.
Lola glared at her from under the table. Something told Tariza they weren’t going to be friends.
***
Not long after they returned from Mateo’s quarters, someone knocked on Dario’s door. He called to enter and a servant came in carrying a guitar. Tariza looked up in surprise, momentarily forgetting proper slave posture. The servant carried the instrument to Dario and handed it over with a bow.
When he’d left, Dario held the guitar out to her.
She looked up at him with wide eyes. “For me?”
He smiled broadly, an expression that only served to emphasize his white teeth and those damned charming dimples. “For you.”
She picked up the guitar, ran her fingers over the smooth, glossy wood of the sound box. It featured delicate inlay in a stylized floral pattern. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
He leaned toward her, bent his head and nuzzled her cheek. “You’re quite welcome, sweetheart. Would you play for me?”
She lifted the guitar to her lap and plucked the strings, testing how out of tune the instrument was. A musician must have prepared it for her because she could find no fault in its tuning. Now, what to play? Not the song she had already sung for him. It was too embarrassing in its subject matter, and besides, he’d already heard it. Instead, she chose a paean to the beauty of the Concordian countryside.
He watched her intently as she began the introduction to the song. It had been a long while since she’d performed and she had never been so closely observed by a male. But the song was one of her favorites and she’d played it many times, had even performed it for her mother’s friends, so her fingers moved confidently over the strings. The tune suited her voice well. It was one of the reasons she liked it so much; she didn’t have to make her voice artificially low.
During the third repetition of the chorus, she glanced at him. His face was rapt, a little smile playing about his lips. She bent her head over her guitar so as not to distract herself overmuch, but in her heart she was saying he likes it; he’s enjoying my music. The flush of pleasure that followed this thought disturbed her. Wasn’t he the enemy? Wasn’t he the one who’d enslaved her? She shouldn’t care for his good opinion, yet here she was glowing because he liked her song. She ought to be ashamed of herself. Yet when she finished the piece and he applauded, smiling, she could not contain the glad smile that burst over her face.
“That was wonderful, Tariza.”
She flushed, her face burning. “You really liked it?”
“I loved it. Would you play something else for me?”
Tariza fidgeted. “I really don’t know what to play.” All the songs she knew were Concordian and they were bound to offend him at some point.
“If you’re concerned your lyrics will offend me, don’t worry about it. I understand.”
She glanced at him doubtfully. “Are you sure about that? You haven’t heard many of my songs yet.”
He leaned over and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “I’m sure. But if you’re that worried about it, just sing the melody and ignore the words. I only want to hear the sound of your voice.”
She flushed even more hotly. There was something strangely intoxicating about his enjoyment of her music. Under his intense regard, she sang one Concordian song after another, until her voice began to grow tired. And then she became foolish. Before her voice failed, she wanted to sing one more song. It was one she had written, not long after meeting Dario all those weeks ago at the Bellerenic embassy. She’d been thinking of him when she’d written it.
Blushing fiercely, she began the song.
Your eyes, proud warrior, dark and fierce,
Burn into mine as you lie beneath me.
What joy to own you.
What delight to hear your voice pleading for my possession.
When the last note had died away, she risked a glance at him. He was watching her intently, a thoughtful, even speculative expression on his face. “Is that a traditional song?” he said.
She began an intimate study of the inlay work on the guitar. “No, it isn’t.”
“Who wrote it?”
Her face felt as if it might burst into flames. “I did.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“I’m glad you liked it,” she said faintly.
He brushed a falling lock of hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. “Were you thinking of someone in particular when you wrote it?”
“No.”
“I see.”
She took another peek at him from under her lashes. He was smiling – a knowing smile, as if he’d guessed the inspiration for her song – which must have been absurdly obvious. Her stomach took a sickening lurch. Yet there was tenderness in his smile as well. Was it possible that he felt a real affection for her?
Some mistresses in Concordia became attached to their slaves, their favorites. Some even spoke of loving the men whom they’d singled out for attention. Perhaps it was the same in
Saturnios.
No. She mustn’t think that way. It was dangerous. If she believed that he cared for her, she would let down her guard. She might not be able to make the hard decisions she’d need to make if she were ever to escape. Besides, what kind of Concordian was she if she could care even a little for the kind regard of the Saturnian who purported to be her master? To soften toward him would be a betrayal of everything she’d ever believed in; indeed, it would be a betrayal of her whole nation.
She set the guitar aside with an irritated frown. “My voice is tired. If it please you, Master, I must stop and rest now.”
“I greatly enjoyed the concert,” he said mildly. “Thank you.”
“It is my pleasure to serve.” She was merely parroting a line from the speech of male slaves in Concordia.
It seemed to please him, because he smiled. “Good.”
A young slave dressed in a plain black leather collar arrived with lunch on a rolling tray. Once again, Dario made Tariza kneel beside his chair to eat. He was generous with the food he offered her, holding nothing back. Still, her position rankled.
After lunch, he told her to dress in the same clothes she’d worn on the trail the day before. Puzzled, she followed orders. At least he didn’t expect her to prance around naked like the other slaves in the palace. That part would come soon, she was sure.
When they were both dressed, he took her by the hand and led her from his chambers. The grand corridor outside his rooms looked no less grand in the daylight. Elaborate landscapes and portraits of Saturnian men marched in an even line down the hall, punctuated by candle sconces hung with crystals. There were no paintings of women here. Tariza glanced at painting after painting as she and Dario traversed the hallway.
“My ancestors,” he said.
“They look very fierce.”
“They were.”
“Is your father among them?”
“No. These are kings of Saturnios, and my father was neither a king nor the heir to the throne. There is a portrait of him and my mother in my rooms.”