by Mlyn Hurn
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Warning:
The following material contains strong sexual content meant for mature readers. REBEL SLAVE has been rated NC17, erotic, by three individual reviewers. We strongly suggest storing this electronic file in a place where young readers not meant to view this ebook are unlikely to happen upon it. That said, enjoy…
Chapter 1
Location: Planet Tagynot
Time: Future
Drakkor entered the large reception hall with his highest-ranking officers behind him. As they had done many times before, he and his men were returning victorious. Only this time, the victory was much sweeter than ever before. He nodded his head towards certain people, ignoring most of the fawning women who anxiously sought his attention and favor. He knew his physical attributes attracted female attention, and his power now drew women to him for the sexual excitement and because of what he could possibly do for them.
Drakkor ascended the small dais at the front of the room. His top commanding officers were seated to his left, and the senior statesmen to the right. He signaled for the celebration to continue. While food and wine were distributed freely to the merrymakers, the music started once again. Beyond the castle’s walls, he could occasionally hear the rowdier and more ribald partying of his soldiers. He would much rather be partying with his men than with the wealthy and powerful of the kingdom. But such things were no longer possible. With his father’s death, he was now liege lord, and others paid homage, owing their loyalty to him now.
After today’s final victory, their battles were over. His soldiers would return to their lands and families, if desired, or remain here as his guards. His soldiers and officers were all feeling victorious, and truly were deserving of their celebration. The victory, which should have tasted sweet after many months of searching for remaining rebel bands, only left a bad taste in his mouth now. Taking prisoners was never pleasant, but today had been done without his usual graciousness and generosity of spirit, even though all protocols had been closely observed.
“Drakkor!”
Drakkor turned at hearing his name being called. He recognized the voice instantly. Only one person still called him by his first name. It was his cousin, Banndor, who served as his first officer, after refusing countless offers to be promoted. He preferred being close to his cousin, who was now the leader of their lands, rather than advance through the ranks and attain more power. He was a few years older than Drakkor and the two had grown up together. They had shared many pranks as young boys, and wild adventures as young soldiers.
Still, it was only Banndor who was truly aware of the shock that had been felt by their lord Drakkor today when he had faced the prisoners. The last stronghold of rebels had been taken without bloodshed, for a change. The war had been won many months earlier, but small renegade groups of rebel forces had continued to elude the well-organized, expansively equipped and skillfully trained troops of the liege lord.
“It’s time for the presentation,” Banndor told his cousin softly. Drakkor met his eyes, and nodded slowly. Banndor signaled to the guards at a door off to the side of the room to begin.
A moment later, the doors opened, and the prisoners, or rather, a select few of the prisoners, were brought forward. The prisoners would now be sold into a term of servitude, which would essentially be their imprisonment for their crime against the state. While it might not be the best system, it had suited their people for a very long time, and prevented the need for prisons. Of course, only the most attractive of prisoners would be presented at court tonight. The less intelligent, less attractive and less skilled captives would be presented to the people tomorrow, to be purchased at a much more reasonable price.
The crowds parted as they became aware of the “future slaves” now amidst them. A murmur began and spread through the people as they caught sight of some of the prisoners. They had been cleaned up properly, and were now dressed attractively.
At the center of the room a raised platform had been placed. An elderly man, whose job this had been for so long no one could remember anyone else ever doing it, took the platform. He made a small bow towards Drakkor, and then turned his attention to the crowd. The cagey old man was well used to the reactions of these noble people to the presentation of slaves. Sometimes the noblest of bidders would act with less composure than one of the common people during their auction for slaves, which would follow tomorrow. When it came to matters of the flesh and sex, everyone’s basic instincts would overtake their haughty educations and wealthy upbringings. He indicated for the first slave to be brought up beside him.
The first prisoner was a tall, broad-shouldered man, who could easily have matched Drakkor in size and strength. The man looked much more presentable than he had when first captured. He was now dressed in soft, silk pants that fit low on his slim hips, and were loose and full cut until they reached the cuffed ankles. He wore across his chest a leather band, draping over his right shoulder and down to his waist. But what caught the eye of the beholder was the silver chain that essentially held it in place, and was attached to nipple rings, which were his newest adornment. The man was handsome and held his blond head proudly.
The bidding went fast and furious, until a noble woman, who couldn’t keep her eyes off the man, insisted on examining the auction piece up close. The whole audience quieted as the expensively gowned woman walked around him.
“His name?” the slightly older woman asked quietly.
Old Adolfus nodded and replied with his head bent low to hide his smile. “I see her ladyship appreciates a fine piece of male meat.”
The crowd erupted suddenly with laughter and ribald comments. Adolfus knew that if the crowd got rowdy and worked up, it always made for a much more profitable auction. This, of course, made his profit much greater as well.
“Please, my Lady Anselm, feel free to inspect the slave to your satisfaction!”
Drakkor glanced over once again at the raised dais. This time he saw the wealthy widow, Anselm, who was known for her sexual proclivities, reach down and fondle the man-slave’s cock and balls. This was no shy, hurried touch, but a slow squeezing and caressing of the man’s private parts, concealed beneath his thin trousers.
Drakkor paid little attention as the auction continued. But he was aware the instant that one particular slave was moved up onto the platform. He had been waiting, after instructing the old auctioneer, Adolfus, to ensure this woman was last. He could have claimed her for his own, but he didn’t want to invoke his liege rights. Instead, he had arranged to have his cousin bid on the woman for him. Drakkor turned his head to see where Banndor had moved to the side of the platform, listening as Adolfus extolled the virtues of this woman.
As was the custom, the woman had been clothed in a concealing cloth, covering her head, wrapping around her body. Drakkor watched as the old man reached out and slowly began to peel away the cloth.
“See the beauty concealed within! Place the first bid and I will reveal even more of this luscious female. Just imagine spending the night between this slave’s thighs! Her face could easily have graced our ancient statues.” Adolfus extolled the virtues as he continued to unwrap the woman’s body.
Drakkor heard the gasp of the crowd as the beautiful woman was revealed. Her face was finely formed with a perfect nose, lips and eyes. Her eyes were green, beneath black brows and surrounded by long, thick black lashes. Her hair
was black and fell to her waist in a long, lustrous abundance of curls. He saw she wore the same loose, hip hugging pants as the man had earlier, and as all the slaves offered thus far. The difference was that these were diaphanous, and the sheerest of green material. Drakkor realized that he, and everyone else gathered for the celebration, could see her firm, round buttocks only lightly concealed by the filmy material.
Adolfus had her turn slowly, and as she turned towards him Drakkor felt as if a sword’s razor-sharp blade pierced his stomach. Her body was perfect, with very full, firm breasts that tilted upwards pertly. Her nipples were hard, pointed and had been pierced by matching gold rings. A golden chain joined the rings and dipped down about several inches. Around her waist was a matching, very fine golden chain, which dipped low over her belly. Desire shot through him instantly. She was more beautiful than he had recalled, and just hours earlier had been buried beneath several layers of grime and raggedy clothing when he had first seen her after the end of the short battle.
He shook his head as he realized how high the bidding had gotten. He looked around and saw that his cousin was bidding against a senior statesman, who he knew was nearing sixty. The other bidder was a very wealthy farmer who had several children and no wife. He realized the farmer was determined to possess the beautiful slave. Drakkor looked at Banndor who was silently questioning if he should bid higher. Against his better judgment, Drakkor stood and bid three times the farmer’s last offer.
Silence immediately overtook the crowd as they became aware that he had bid. The farmer shook his head, refusing, quite wisely, to bid against his liege. Adolfus closed the bidding quickly, and then turned the woman to face him. But she didn’t look up into his face; her eyes remained downcast to the ground.
Drakkor stepped forward, knowing that no matter what he did now the gossip wouldn’t stop or change. He walked to the woman and reached out to grab the woman’s upper arm. He tugged her forward and began walking out of the reception. The man who had been auctioned first stepped in front of them abruptly. Drakkor saw the anger in the man’s face, which was staring not at him, but at the woman at his side.
He didn’t understand the anger the man was so obviously directing at the woman. He could have understood it directed at himself, if the slave had been the woman’s mate, but his physician had assured him that the woman was untouched. His guards were instantly there, but he signaled them aside. Something changed in the man’s face a moment later and he looked away from her. He moved out of their path. Drakkor didn’t pause but pulled the woman with him out of the reception area.
* * * * *
They reached his quarters a few minutes later and he dismissed the guards from his door. Inside the room he released his grip on her slender arm, ignoring the red mark left behind. He walked across the room to the table where a bottle of wine and fruit had been set. Pouring himself a glass, he drank it down quickly. He sat on the long sofa, piled high with pillows, and looked at the woman who stood a short distance away. As he looked at her, she slowly lifted her eyes to meet his.
Drakkor held her gaze for a moment, and then insolently dropped his gaze to her full breasts, rising and falling heavily with each rapid and unsteady breath. When he looked back into her eyes, he saw the angry glare directed his way, accompanied by a bright flush on her cheeks. He smiled slowly.
“You should have surrendered a year ago, Jocienne. I would have accepted your surrender and allowed you the most generous of terms. But to drag this out for a year—well, my lovely lady, you left me no choice but to pursue your band of rebels to the very end. Your friend looked angry enough to do you bodily harm a minute ago.”
Jocienne shook her head in denial of his words. She wouldn’t acknowledge he might be correct. “Now what, Drakkor?”
“What, no ‘my lord’?”
Jocienne shook her head at him. “I think this charade has gone far enough. I demand my release.”
Drakkor leaned back on the sofa, propping his feet on the low table. “You have been sold, per the law of the land, princess. So, from now on, until your period of servitude ends, you belong to me, body and soul.”
Jocienne shivered at his words. She had assumed he would return her to her father’s home, once he had played out his game of power. She had nearly died of embarrassment as he had her paraded nearly naked in front of all those people. There had been some faces and names she’d recognized from her early years, but none had seemed to connect who she had been with the slave on the auction block. She looked down and was again reminded of how her body had been changed for the slave auction. She had thought when they shaved her pubic hair, as well as any remaining underarm and leg hair, that that would be the worst. But then they had numbed her nipples and held her down and pierced them, attaching the gold chain.
“Do they hurt, my sweet?”
Jocienne looked up and saw that Drakkor was watching her look at her breasts. She shook her head. “Not now, but earlier they did.”
Drakkor stood and came around the table walking towards her. He stopped directly in front of her, reaching his hand out and catching his index finger under the chain. He lifted it a little, yet he was careful not to pull on the distended, newly pierced nipples. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle with them until they heal completely.”
Jocienne couldn’t hide the shiver that shook her body at his words. She had feared that he wouldn’t be buying her to work in his kitchen. It was completely permissible to use your slave for sex. She was sexually attracted to this tall, broad-shouldered man, which only fueled her desire to fight him. But if she fought him now, she would be breaking more than the law. There were certain things held sacred, and obeying the basic credos, such as the slave laws, were just a few. They had been created to maintain order, and they had done so for generations before them.
Drakkor reached his hands towards her waist, and deftly he released the catch holding up her pants. The soft material fell to her feet and caught at her ankles, until she stepped free of the cloth. There was no going back and no denying what was going to happen. Somehow, she knew it had always been inevitable, from the first time they met. Drakkor moved her across the room and pressed her back onto the bed. It only took him a few seconds to cast off his own clothes and he came down on the bed beside her.
* * * * *
Drakkor kissed her face and slid his hand between her thighs. His fingers skimmed over her hairless flesh and found her lips wet. He held back his groan of approval, knowing she would only see it as acknowledgement of her weakness. He didn’t care. He wanted her, and he needed desperately to be inside her.
Still, he knew that if he took her now, without arousing her passion, her anger and resentment would be directed at him. But if he could bring her body into climactic release first, then those feelings would be directed inwards. Cupping his hand over her mound, he pressed his index finger between her soft folds until he found her clit. The unmistakable jerk of hips told him of his success with his first maneuver. Looking at her face, he saw the stubborn, set look on her. Wiggling his finger a little and pressing upwards, he smiled.
“Lift your arms up my sweet, to lie on the pillow.”
Drakkor watched as she obeyed, which lifted her breasts into amazingly full round globes mounded on her chest. Her nipples were taut and distended as he lowered his mouth to the closest one.
“No…please don’t!”
He heard Jocienne pleading softly a second before he tenderly began to lick, encircle and generally entice to become even longer and harder. The soft groan, as well as the increased movements of her hips warned of his success. Beginning a soft, suckling motion, he moved his hand down and slid two fingers inside her pussy. His thumb began an even more earnest dance against her clit until seconds later he witnessed what he was positive was Jocienne’s first orgasm.
Drakkor watched as she cried out loudly, almost screaming. Her entire body had jerked spasmodically against him, and now he felt her cunt muscles squeezing on his fingers. To
rn between wanting to watch her succumb to her passion and knowing this was the best time to enter, he paused.
Her breasts were jiggling and the one longer, wet nipple seemed to be demanding more attention. Shaking his head, he moved over her body and wasted no more time. He thrust into her, breaking the thin barrier that had proclaimed her innocence. She was now his!
He held himself still for as long as possible, just savoring the muscles of her cunt spasming around his cock. When he could hold back no more, he began thrusting in and out of her sweet flesh. Over and over, he moved within her heat, feeling the tight pull of her lips around his cock. Her cunt sucked his cock in even though he knew she didn’t do it consciously. She would fight her body’s responses, and deny any passion she might feel. Drakkor knew that he would have to be patient, if he wanted to unlock her true passion.
He could hold back no longer and shot his seed deep into her body. He moved his hands under her hips, tilting her to receive his seed deeply and completely. He wouldn’t say the words out loud, but he wanted their mating to bear fruit. If she bore him a child, she would have to stay, beyond the terms of her enslavement. Any child born would belong to him alone. At the end of her term of servitude, she would be completely free to leave, but without her child. The child was considered fruit of the contract, and therefore a possession of the owner.
Drakkor sensed that she was not the kind of woman to leave her child behind. There would be no going back for her then, which is just what he wanted. He slid from her body with a loud, wet squelching noise as his large cock slid from her small hole. He grabbed a pillow and pushed it under her hips before he pulled the covers up over their bodies. He fell asleep a short time later, after he heard her breathing slow and calm into a restful slumber.
Drakkor awoke three times that night, and each time he pulled Jocienne beneath him and filled her body with his seed. And each time, he propped her hips on the pillow. If she didn’t get pregnant, it wouldn’t be for lack of trying on his part.