Conquering the Queen

by Ava Sinclair

  Cynric observed everything—expressions, body posture, glares, knowing glances—so when he saw Xander discreetly massaging the bandaged finger of his right hand, he knew there was some connection between the injury and the spectacle he’d seen earlier from another part of the castle: the bare red bottom of a former queen.

  The advisor wasn’t surprised that Xander had punished Avin in this way. He knew the two had a history, and Cynric feared what had made it unique could easily undermine the very thing Xander was trying to achieve.

  “I hope you have the physician cleanse the wound.” The room had cleared out when Cynric approached the king. He gestured to the bandaged finger. “A human bite can be quite serious.”

  Xander looked up, surprised. “Who told…?” Then he paused. “I forget sometimes, even now. No one has to tell you a thing.” He looked down at the finger. “How did you know?”

  “You looked pained when you clutched it, but not physically pained,” Cynric said. “You look like a man more hurt at having been bitten, than by the bite itself.”

  Xander sighed. “She won’t yield, Cynric. I beat her pretty bottom until it was red as a summer cherry. I put her on display, exposing her punished nates to her former subjects. I’ve used a rod. I’ve used leather. I’ve used humiliation. And yet she defies me.”

  “She submitted to you once. Remember?” Cynric arched a brow. “I do.”

  “Don’t look so uncomfortable, Xander,” the advisor continued with a sly smile. “It’s always been my job to know what is going on. The desire to submit to strength is, perhaps, strongest in strong women. In you, Avin once found a man who gave her what she needed most.”

  “She was only pretending then, Cynric.” Xander glanced solemnly toward the tower that held his imprisoned former lover.

  “How many women have you been with, Xander?”

  Now it was the king who chuckled. “Don’t you know?”

  “Humor me by pretending I don’t.” Cynric grinned.

  “Dozens. More, maybe?”

  “And you stand here and tell me you don’t know when a woman’s reaction is real? Some things can’t be faked. I’ve never been with even one woman, and yet when she visited Ravenscroft, I could tell that the sounds coming from her chamber rang with true passion. She responded to your correction, and to your touch. You had her submission once. So get it back, but not through brute force. That only earns the pretense of submission. To get the real thing will require the caring domination she craves.”

  “Caring?” Xander walked a few feet away and barked a mirthless laugh. “How can I care for a woman who hates me?”

  “But how can you expect to win the submission of a woman who cannot respect a man afraid to face his fear?”

  Xander narrowed his brow. “What is it I have to be afraid of?”

  “Do not pretend you don’t know. Simply face it. If you don’t, her resistance—even collared—will speak more to her strength than yours.”

  Cynric nodded and turned away. He knew the time for his words was over. The debate now was within the man who’d yet to tame his deposed queen.

  Chapter Five

  Was it his imagination, or was she even paler than when he’d escorted her back to her room? She was definitely weaker, and Xander silently cursed the stubbornness that had her refusing the food she needed.

  The meal he held this time had been especially prepared with what he remembered to be her favorite foods—lamb in wine sauce, tender fiddlehead ferns, plums, and a cup of milk infused with honey.

  Again, he set the food on the bedside table before firmly lifting Avin from the bed where she lay staring toward the window. Again he pushed her to kneeling. She raised her eyes to him in defiant silence, but she couldn’t stop them from darting toward the plate. Despite her denials, she was hungry.

  “You kneel so prettily, Avin,” he said, using her name for the first time. “You will be rewarded.” He’d leaned down then, scooped her into his arms, and sat on the edge of the bed. Placing her in his lap, Xander ran his hand gently down her back.

  She remained silent as he picked up a piece of the lamb. It was warm from the oven. He held it close to her mouth, knowing she could smell the tender meat, the sweet wine it had basted in.

  “This is for your own good,” he said, and saw her eyes flash with recognition at the simple statement. How many times had he said that to her before putting her over his knee at Ravenscroft? How many times had she sweetly cried, knowing it was true, before offering herself to him? The juice of the lamb was running down his fingers, tempting her appetite. He swallowed hard, remembering how her juices had flowed after a spanking, tempting his.

  His punishments had been for her own good. So was food. She needed both. He had not forgotten. She realized it. He could see it in her eyes now. She was fighting to resist. She was losing. She opened her mouth and allowed him to pop in the morsel of food. She did not bite him. He reached for another.

  “Good,” he said, his voice deep and thick. “Very good.”

  Xander studied her as she chewed. Avin was as beautiful as he remembered, but the trusting innocence that once animated her features was no more. In its place was a guarded reserve that made her sculpted face, with its high cheekbones, pale green eyes, and full lips, look like a haunted marble statue.

  She took another morsel, and he could tell by the third bite that her body had awakened to its need for food. This time, she sucked the juices off his finger in eagerness, and while Xander knew it was unintentional, the mere sensation gave him an instant cockstand that had him hastily shifting his enslaved former queen to one of his hard thighs, lest she feel it poking into her.

  Xander fed her a bit of plum, watching as her lips came within an inch of the bandaged bite. She was careful to avoid the injury she’d given him as she focused on the offered food.

  “Slowly, slowly… the physician says you must not eat too quickly. Here.” Xander lifted the cup of sweetened milk. Avin grabbed it, pulled it to her mouth so quickly some sloshed around the edge. He started to reach for it, but instead let her drain it, waiting a moment before taking the empty cup from her desperate grasp. He offered her another bite of plum, slipping it between full lips ringed with creamy milk. More memories, this time of her lips dripping with a different kind of cream. His cock bobbed painfully against his breeches.

  Avin looked disappointed when the last bite was gone. Now was the moment of truth. Xander reached into the pouch on his belt and pulled out a small lemon cake. These had always been Avin’s favorite. Her eyes were fixed on the treat. He’d seen women look with less longing at precious gems.

  He broke a piece off. She opened her mouth.

  “Kneel.”

  She looked him in the eye. The flash of defiance returned.

  “I know these are your favorites. Remember how they tasted? You once said the tart and the sweet together were perfect complements, just like…” Like the two of us. His voice trailed off. He would not finish the sentence. He would let her finish it in her mind, and remember. “Kneel.”

  He could see how conflicted she was as she looked at the cake. It was still warm, still fragrant. Avin slipped from his lap to the floor. Then, rising to her knees, she looked up at him and opened her mouth. Her expression said it all. I have given. Now you must. It was not full submission, but it was a start. He popped a piece of the cake into her mouth and she closed her eyes, relishing it. He relished her relishing it, and had to restrain himself from picking her up and crushing his mouth against the one savoring the treat.

  He’d been with so many women since Avin, trying to forget. But none had excited him with their bodies the way this deposed and defiant queen excited him by kneeling at his feet in exchange for a bite of cake.

  It was gone too soon. Avin remained kneeling as Xander reached down and wiped the milk and crumbs from her lips with the pad of his thumb. Then he stood and lifted her into his arms.

  “You’ll sleep now,” he said.

 
“No,” she replied.

  He smiled to himself. It would be yet another victory; he’d had a sleeping draught put in the milk. Already her eyes were getting heavy.

  “You will sleep,” he said. “And I will sit here. If you get out of bed, I will spank you beyond tears.”

  She looked up at him as he pulled the coverlet over her. The draught was taking effect, making it difficult for her to mask her emotions. He saw something akin to longing in her hooded eyes.

  “You don’t want me to spank you, do you?”

  Did she moan? He could not tell. She was already asleep. He watched her lying there and wondered…

  He had to know. Xander pulled the coverlet down and reached under the gown of his sleeping prisoner. Her long, shapely legs had fallen apart. His fingers encountered the curly blond fleece. The curls were wet. So were the insides of her thighs. Xander withdrew his hand, looking down at the slick coating of arousal on his fingers. He put them to his mouth, sucking her essence away as eagerly as she’d sucked away the juices from the lamb.

  He stood, lowered her gown, covered her up, and left the room before he lost control and took her then and there.

  Chapter Six

  “You will obey, Avin.”

  “No. I won’t.”

  “You will.”

  She was face down on the feather mattress, her ass in the air. Xander was behind her, squeezing one freshly spanked cheek, then the other, before pulling them apart. She moaned, knowing he could clearly see the dusky pucker of her bottom hole.

  “This is the last time I tell you, Princess.”

  “No! And I don’t care how hard you spank me. I am the princess, and I will not apologize to a servant I don’t even know!”

  “She’s not just a servant. She was my old nanny. And you hurt her feelings. She only wanted to meet you. You could have spared the time.”

  “I wanted to ride my horse!” she objected.

  “And what did that get you, not showing up? A sore bottom.” He squeezed again, causing her to yelp as his hand compressed a welt left by his leather strap. “But it’s not sore enough.”

  “How can you say that?” She looked at him from around the veil of hair that spilled down her shoulders to fan across the bed. Her face was tearstained and her bottom lip was quivering. “It hurts so badly.”

  “Oh, I’m sure it does. The outside of your bottom has been firmly punished. But the inside…” Xander reached down, and Avin gasped as she felt the pressure of something hard, slippery, and cool sliding into her bottom. He’d pushed something inside—some sort of little wooden dowel. And whatever coated it was starting to tingle.

  “Ow! Ow! Ow!” She began to gyrate her hips as the tingle turned to a sting. “It burns! Oh, Xander! What have you done to me?”

  “Surely after all the time in the wood picking herbs you’d know the effects of a cream made from nettles.”

  Her eyes grew wide. “No! No! You can’t mean it!” But she already knew the signs. The sting, burn, and itch combined with an intensity. And all in a place she could not reach…

  “Owww!” She reached back to pluck out the offending object, but Xander caught her hand. Avin moaned pitifully and wagged her bottom back and forth. She moaned again, this time with shame, as she felt his hand slip between her thighs.

  “Wet,” he said. “Even with this, you are wet…”

  “Up!”

  A voice and sharply clapping hands awoke Avin. For a moment she was disoriented as her mind shifted from the dream of a past memory to the present.

  “Up!” The order came again as the nurse clapped her hands just inches from Avin’s face. She blinked rapidly as the sensual fog of the dream lifted, leaving her cold.

  She was glad for the nurse’s ugliness, glad to start the day with the kind of harshness that hardened her weakening armor. Her mind flashed back to the prior evening, to sitting on Xander’s lap and eating from his hand. She recalled how he’d shifted her when she’d sucked the meat juices from his finger. She’d felt the swell of his cock, even though he’d tried to hide it. She’d felt her own pussy clench. Even now, after all this time, their bodies were drawn one to the other’s.

  But it could not be. Regardless of what his body said, he hated her. He blamed her for betraying him. And she was his prisoner.

  Her day began with another cold bath endured as she stood looking out the window. Once again, the nurses scrubbed her skin too hard, especially the still-tender skin of her bottom—more of their petty punishment. Avin ignored it. She would remember them, too, when this was all over.

  They brushed her hair, jerking her head when they found a sleep-tangled knot. She said nothing, made no noise. By the time she was dressed in a simple green gown—her thick blond tresses plaited down her back, her skin tingling in places as if stung by bees—the pain from their rough handling had succeeded in supplanting any good feelings that lingered from the night before.

  “You slept well?” Xander arrived, sending the nurses away.

  When she didn’t answer, he approached her. He carried a plate of food. Bread. Salt pork. Apple. He walked over and sat down on the bed.

  “Come kneel and eat, Avin.”

  She looked over at him. “No.”

  He regarded her thoughtfully. “Not hungry this morning? That is regrettable. You need sustenance.”

  “I will not accept food from the hand that tricked me,” she said. “And don’t deny it. You gave me a sleeping draught. I felt the signs when I awoke. The fog of mind, the taste of valerian still on my tongue.”

  He set the plate aside. “It was for your own good.”

  “Yes,” she said. “As is this drafty tower room.”

  His next words surprised her. “I agree that this room is not suitable, which is why I am moving you.”

  “Where?”

  “Back to your former bedchamber. It’s warm there, and it’s next to mine. I can more readily train you if you are closer.”

  Avin felt her heart flutter. “I need no training.”

  Xander stood. “You do.” He walked over, stopping when he was just inches away from her. His proximity meant she was forced to look up at him. Her heart fluttered faster. She had always been a statuesque woman, but beside her former lover, she still felt small. “I thought correction alone would be enough to remind you of your place, but it is clear that you need the steady feel of your master’s hand…”

  “You are not my master…” Her voice was shaking as she said the words that went ignored as he spoke over her.

  “…so that you will not have time to build anger and resentment.”

  “And just how are you to tame me and run a kingdom?” She paused. “Or will your father run Windbourne as you merely play at being king.”

  His face hardened. She’d struck a nerve. Avin allowed herself a satisfied smile. It was one thing they both had in common—overbearing fathers. She remembered how Xander had bristled at Lord Reginald’s attempts to maneuver him. Now she waited for his retort, but before it could come there was a rap at the door.

  When Xander answered it, Avin immediately recognized the visitor as a physician, but not hers. Her physician had been among the first in her inner circle to betray her, leaving the castle one cold evening never to return. Avin later learned that he’d sought sanctuary with the invaders.

  This man was blond, handsome, and not much older than the king. By the familiarity afforded him by Xander, it was clear they’d known one another for some time.

  Avin narrowed her eyes suspiciously as she watched them quietly confer. An uneasy feeling came over her as they stopped talking and approached her.

  “I asked the physician to come to see to your overall health, Avin,” Xander said.

  “I need no physician.” She backed away, hoping her words did not convey the apprehension she felt.

  “I disagree.” Xander stepped forward and took hold of her and she struggled to free herself.

  “Avin, you will be examined, and in light
of this morning’s renewed defiance in taking food, you will be treated for your flagging appetite.”

  “I will not, you usurping bastard!” She moved to bite his hand again, but this time, Xander was ready, spinning her around and pinning her back against his chest. Reaching for the top of her gown, he pulled it down and off as the physician urged her to remain calm.

  “Will you lay quietly, or do I need to tie you?” Xander had pulled her to the bed, where he was forcing her to lie down.

  “I will never submit to this!” she cried angrily.

  “Very well.” He nodded to the physician. “I suspected as much. Fortunately, we came prepared.”

  The physician reached into his bag and produced several lengths of rope that were used to bind Avin to the bed hand and foot. She cursed them both, knowing that those in the courtyard below would likely hear her, but did not care. Let them talk. Let them say they had heard the former queen call her king every foul manner of thing. Let it be known that even if they willingly knelt to the king, she never would.

  “As the king, I alone should touch my slave.” Xander waited until Avin’s voice was exhausted from screaming insults to address his physician.

  “I understand.” The physician nodded. “Her breasts. You should check them for lesions and lumps. These can be discovered by gently squeezing.”

  Avin closed her eyes and looked the other way as her former lover’s large hands closed over her breasts. He’d once said they were made for his hands—pert, firm globes that filled his palms to overflowing. The dark pink nipples hardened against those palms now. He was taking his time, massaging, kneading. He slid his hands down, allowing the callused hands to graze her nipples. They began to ache with the same needful throb that was developing between her clamped thighs.

  “I feel nothing amiss,” Xander said, and she could hear the thickness of his voice.