Knight Nostalgia

by Joey W. Hill

  “Not wise, slave. My guards would stop you.”

  “How?” she retorted hotly. “You forbade any of them to touch me.”

  He grinned. Sharp-minded and using his own words against him. She shoved at him, but he ducked under the move, and folded her over his shoulder, straightening and lifting her off her feet. She spat several curses at him, as he enjoyed spreading his hand over her quivering buttock. He dug his fingers into soft flesh revealed by the convenient parting of the golden strands of chain. She might have great strength of spirit, but she was no match for him physically.

  Striding to the center of the tent, he put her down before the support post there. When she attempted to yank away from him, he grasped her wrists and hooked them to one of the chains hanging from the post. The dangling jesses were the long ends of straps buckled around her wrists, and the cuff part of the straps had D-rings that allowed for the quick attachment. The chain had some slack, but not enough to let her go more than several feet from the sturdy pole. Even with the mask blocking her sight, she could likely figure out how to unhook the chain, but he wasn’t going to give her enough time and space to work that out.

  “That’s one punishment earned,” he said. “You should save your strength. I’ve survived enemies gutting me with poisoned spears.”

  “Give me the same weapon and opportunity,” she said, baring her teeth in a saccharine smile. “I’ll succeed where they failed.”

  He believed it. The words were backed by a steel core. Thanks to her bastard father’s influence, he suspected over time that steel had become too inflexible, and it had imprisoned her. But now, freed of the negative effects of it, she would use the ferocity in other ways. She was a warrior. He wanted to give her the chance to prove it.

  Gripping her nape with a firm hand, he returned his other hand to her thighs again. She made a quiet noise of anger and protest, but knowing she couldn’t escape, this time she chose to go rigid as a board. He rubbed his fingers against her smooth labia and eased his fingers between them. She caught her bottom lip in her teeth, and the golden waterfall rippled from her reaction.

  “You are despicable,” she said tightly.

  “You, my slave, are wet.” He withdrew his touch from her body but continued to hold the back of her neck as he brought his fingers to his mouth. “And your honey is sweet.”

  “It’s the oil the slaves put inside me to ease your passage.” Her voice dripped with scorn. “They wished to look after my comfort. I told them I doubted you were of a size for it to be necessary.”

  “I will have them beaten for their interference.” He tasted the light honey flavoring of the lubricant, but he also tasted her. However, he stepped away to pick up a cloth and placed it in one of her bound hands, tightening his grip over hers when she would have dropped it. He hardened his tone. “Get rid of it. The only honey between your legs will be what my touch creates.”

  The mutinous set to her mouth was enhanced by the mask. It made him want to force her to her knees and put her lips to other uses. Grasping her chin, he dipped his head close enough to speak against her ear. The hood was thin enough to ensure her hearing wasn’t obstructed. “Do it. Or I’ll use my mouth to remove every drop of their honeyed oils. When I’m done with you, you’ll be dripping with your own, unable to deny it. You’ll also be moaning from my kindness to your tender flesh.”

  She turned her head, quick as a snake, her teeth snapping. He drew back in time to save himself from being bitten, but that was a distraction. The slack in the chains that would allow her to reach between her legs with the cloth allowed her another attack angle. She brought her hands in front of her, clasped them together, and swung the doubled fist into his body.

  He expected she’d been aiming for his balls, but her lack of sight hindered her. Instead, she hit his abdomen with admirable force. His captive followed that up with another swing. She was doing a blitz attack, moving forward until she ran out of chain.

  That was easy enough to counter. He simply stepped out of range. When she realized it, she stopped, though her fists remained clenched, her mouth a hard line.

  “That just drove your number of punishments up past where I can count,” he noted.

  “I’m surprised you can count at all.”

  “That would be unfortunate for you, because then I’ll just keep going until my arm tires.”

  She spat more curses at him. Foul words he wouldn’t tolerate from her. Warrior she might be, but she wouldn’t talk like a common soldier.

  He pinned her to the pole, his fingers wrapping around her slim throat. Her breath suddenly shortened as he leaned in and let her hear menace in his low voice.

  “There’s nothing you can do to hurt me, my lady, that will cause me to hurt you back the same way. I won’t injure you or take your life. What I’m going to do is something you’ll think is far worse. At first. I’m going to make you cry out with pleasure against your will, over and over, so all my men will know your body is mine to command.”

  Her lips curled in a sneer, as if she were about to retort, but he tightened his grip on her throat and captured a sound there he knew was erotic response. She was proud, an incomparable prize, but she desired surrender. Most submissives couldn’t help but react strongly to their Master’s hand collaring their throat, and this queen was no exception, no matter how she tried to hide it. He lowered his voice even further, a whisper against her fair cheek.

  “Before this night is done, you will willingly give me both a slave’s obedience and a queen’s heart. The type of torments you’ll experience at my hands are the kind that will have you begging. For the mercy of my touch, for my cock to fill your emptiness. For me never to leave your presence, because you will not feel complete except when I am in your sight.”

  She’d stilled, and he touched her lips with his thumb. “You push me, and you’ll find out how ruthless I can be. You’ll stay in that falcon hood for days, taking food and drink from my hand, until all you know is the care of your Master and no will of your own that doesn’t obey mine. If you think I can’t do it, that I can’t find the way to your soul, you should think again. When I’m done with you tonight, you’ll need me to carry you, for your legs will no longer support you the way my arms can.”

  Her skin had flushed, her lips parting. He traced her temple with his lips and moved down to her neck. When he bit, he heard her draw in a breath, make a little moan. Fuck, she’d made him hard as a rock, how still she’d become. He’d gotten through. He was a Master. He wouldn’t be played with, and she was his. His only.

  He skimmed his fingertips down her back, over her buttocks to her lower back, pushing the curtain of chains out of his way. Resting his thumb in that dip just above the crease, he spread out his fingers to cover, stroke.

  “Your father gave you to me, thinking it would save his precious kingdom,” he muttered. “If you were mine, they would have had to tear down my castle, brick by brick, overthrow my empire, kill me. Go to the afterlife and destroy my soul, before they could get to you. Even then, I would make whatever deal with the devil was necessary to protect you from harm. And to keep you as my own.”

  “So I would be in hell with you,” she said sullenly. She’d rallied. His lips curved.

  “It would be warm there. But you can find warmth here, in my arms.”

  “Sugared words from a man wanting to rut between a woman’s thighs.” She tossed her head, the feathers on the mask fluttering. “As meaningless and quickly gone as his seed spilled upon them.”

  “I’ll spill that seed in you, my love, and fill you with my child. Our child.”

  She quivered, a reaction he felt low in his gut. They’d been trying. If they conceived here, Matt couldn’t imagine a better outcome to their fantasy. He wanted her to bear his child. He wanted to cherish and raise the life they created together.

  Matt bent, sweeping her hair to the side to bare her neck, fingering the heavy collar. “This is beautiful, but you’re mine now. I want to adorn yo
u in other jewels.”

  Beneath the collar was a slightly thicker chain, the true support for her glittering dress. When he released it, leaving the wide gold collar in place, the waterfall of strands slid down her body, over her breasts, out from under her arms, to land in a pool around her feet. The sound was like a shower of coins.

  He took two steps back, to better appreciate the view. And to reach for and pull on his polished calf-length black boots, a prudent defense against any other attacks from her agile feet.

  As he did that, his gaze moved down her body. Proud, firm breasts, the pink nipples drawn taut. Flat abdomen, gently swelling hips. As he’d already felt, her sex was smooth, the neat folds reminding him of a furled flower he wanted to probe, tease. She was almost a foot shorter than him, and a blessed amount of her height was her long legs.

  While he expected his captive was well aware she had a face and figure men would find attractive, her father would have taught her it was a tool. She was heartbreakingly unaware of her sexual appeal. Or how, combined with her many other amazing traits, she was a treasure a man would want to love for his whole life.

  Moving back to her, he unhooked the chain from her wrist jesses and turned his hand palm up before her. “Put your hand in mine, in front of you. Let’s get that punishment out of the way first.”

  When her lips tightened, he injected warning in his tone. “Easy or hard. Up to you.”

  She seemed to consider that. Setting her chin, she reached out. Yet as he closed his hand over hers, she threw her weight back against his and tried her best to land a groin kick with one of those wooden-slippered feet.

  He turned fast enough to deflect it, though he could hope Savannah hadn’t intended an exact hit. But she didn’t like to lose; he knew that.

  That made two of them. Snapping to his full height, he shifted his grip to her wrist and spun her toward the pole, pinning her other arm behind her back.

  “You bastard, you’re not going to—”

  He put his body up against hers, making sure his intention was solidly pushed against the seam of her bare buttocks. She drew in a breath. “Yes, that’s all for you, my lady. You’ll be taking every inch of it before the night ends, in whatever orifice I choose. Because I am going to do whatever I want. You are mine.”

  She snarled at him, and he turned her back around, just as quickly. He pressed her between him and the post, so that she couldn’t use her knees again. Taking her wrists, he twisted the jesses together to bind her hands before her. Their bodies were so close together, her knuckles pressed against his groin. Realizing it, she twisted her hand around, trying to grab at or claw his more vulnerable parts. In response, he stepped back and hauled on the jesses, making her stumble forward, toward him. He kept moving, using the same repeat tactic to bring her toward the couch. All while his hand was a breath away from her body to steady her. He kept her off balance while not letting her fall.

  Not until they were at the couch. Then he sat down and yanked once more, this time putting her down over his knees. Her snarl was interrupted by a gasp. He pushed her down even further, her face toward the floor, her gorgeous ass centered over his lap. The tangled jesses dragged the ground and he stepped on them to hold her in that position.

  “What are you…” She bucked, looking gloriously angry. She was a sight for a conqueror to salivate over, her pale buttocks writhing and quivering, her breasts rubbing against the side of his leg, her lovely legs struggling for purchase. He caught one ankle and pulled off the shoe, tossed it, then did it for the other kicking foot. No more danger to him from those.

  Whap! The first blow he landed was a solid smack that left a crimson hand print on milk-white skin. She squealed indignantly and tried to bite his calf. Since it was now covered by his boot, he was protected. He proceeded to administer a very thorough and satisfying spanking. He knew the stinging sensation was intensifying when her legs were shifting restlessly, and she was muffling her aroused cries by latching onto his booted calf again, for a different reason this time, an anchor point. When the pain level increased, testing her threshold, the cries began to be broken by little yelping notes.

  As her soft flesh received his punishment, he could see her arousal marking her thighs, as clear as his handprints on her ass.

  “I heard you curse me again when I started this, my lady,” he said, with a mildness he didn’t feel. “Still being far too discourteous. I think in addition to punishment, you need a deterrent against future bad behavior.”

  Crudity was a defense. A way to push him away from her, or pretend what was happening inside her wasn’t. And he’d never abide that.

  Holding her down with one hand, he reached between them and freed the heavy belt. She went still again. Doubling over the strap, he trailed it along her flesh. Gooseflesh followed the movement.

  “No,” she whispered. But he knew what lay behind that no, and it wasn’t a desire for him to stop.

  “I told you I’ll do what I want. Until you know who your Master is.”

  When he brought the belt down on her ass, he knew the impact sent an arrow of pain slicing through her arousal. Yet her strangled cry held longing, need…and a desire for more.

  He gave her ten strikes, turning her already reddened buttocks crimson. Her struggles were balanced by the clawing hold of her fingers, her mound pressed hard against his legs, telling him she was absorbing the desire throbbing there. It was a temptation he couldn’t resist.

  Setting aside the belt, he gripped her ass hard, making her stiffen and hiss from the discomfort. He slipped two fingers inside her cunt.

  “You’re slippery as that oil now. You’ve made me hard, slave queen, with your squirming. Behave, or you’ll be fucked even sooner than you dread it happening.”

  “No worse than I dread being in your presence now,” she managed. A whimper caught in her throat as he pushed those fingers in deeper. Her voice was shaky, a reaction to the force of the punishment, but still impressively derisive. “You may be able to do whatever you want to my body. But that’s all you’re getting.”

  “Think you can hide from me, somewhere deep inside? Inside that fortress you’ve built for yourself, far stronger than the walls your father built?”

  Hearing the words said out loud gave Matt pause. Despite his desire to keep this about the fantasy he wanted to give her, such a statement resurrected a shadow impossible to ignore. The one that lent too much truth to the image of a queen sitting on her horse next to her father, her expression fixed as her sire offered to hand her over to a brutal barbarian to save his own ass.

  Savannah turned her head. Even with the falcon mask hiding her eyes, he could tell she’d sensed his mood shift.

  These were emotions he’d dealt with, but which still had the ability to resurrect themselves with the right triggers. But Matt wouldn’t let himself be used by his own head. He’d use those emotions the right way. For her.

  His fingers still penetrating her silken heat, he leaned over her, bringing his mouth to her neck, her shoulder.

  “I won’t harm that fortress,” he murmured. “Not a single brick. I will build one all the way around it, so you can open the doors and windows, come out and still be safe. Until you know for certain you don’t need your walls anymore.”

  Her lips parted. He thought she might have whispered his name, the way she said it when her heart spoke to his. Matthew.

  She felt that overlap, too, between past, present, and this. But he wanted her to have the best of all of it, so he changed his tone, bringing her back into the fantasy. “I’ve heard you cry out from my belt, slave queen. Now I’ll hear you cry out in pleasure.”

  “Never.” The cold scorn in her voice brought a smile back to his heart.

  “You will deny me nothing.” He stroked his thumb over her clit as he began to move his two fingers in a slow, thrusting rhythm, slipping another finger in to add to the sensation. His other hand, spread out over her back, moved up between her shoulder blades and then to her nape
, curving over it and holding her down at that point, a pressure that added to the reminder that she was overpowered. Dominated.

  When other sensations started to rise within her, she started to struggle again, resist the arousal. He tightened his grip. As he kept fondling her, she found and clutched his booted foot, still pressed down on the tether to her wrist cuffs. He kept fucking her with his fingers, teasing her clit with feather-light brushes of his thumb. A moan escaped her.

  “Your cunt is clenching around my fingers, my lady. It knows what it wants. What do you want? Tell me you want me to make you come. Call me Master.”

  “I…would…rather…die.”

  Despite the words, she was so aroused, she needed little else to bring her to the brink of orgasm. The desperate note to her defiance revealed it.

  “I’ll settle for hearing you scream. Be sure and call me a bastard again as you go over, my lady. If you dare.”

  She didn’t, though he expected it was because she didn’t have the time or focus left to test him. Her voice broke over cries that grew in volume, his thrusts and the rubbing pressure on her clit becoming even more aggressive.

  As she teetered on that edge, he shifted his hand from her neck, sliding his touch beneath her hips to lift her off his lap, enough that he could dip his head and sink his teeth into the globe of her enticing buttock. He didn’t miss a single stroke with his fingers from the adjustment.

  He tightened his jaw, increasing the clamp, and she broke. Her cries transformed into that scream he craved and demanded. Her pussy rippled over his fingers and gushed further cream as the climax gripped her. He held her firmly while she writhed and bucked, her hands all the way around his ankle and calf, a counterpoint to his grip around her hips and between her legs.

  As much as he loved to come inside his wife, he thought he might love this even more, listening to her lost to a mindless pleasure she couldn’t control. She didn’t need to do so. She could give herself to it fully, not fight it, because she knew she was safe. She could trust him, trust being under his control.