Saying nothing he looked at her, making her wait. In Caralissa’s mind the seconds passed like hours, each one a blow to her shattered nerves. If only the light were a little better, so she could read his expression more fully. Then again, even close up this particular man was a mystery. Why was he unlike all the others - the boys and men who panted after her in the court of her father, buffoons and charlatans, a thousand times her inferior, a million miles behind the pace of her racing thoughts?
‘Well?’ she blurted at last, unable to bear the tension. ‘What do you expect me to do?’
‘You may kiss me,’ he offered. ‘If you wish.’
She stiffened. ‘And if I do not wish to kiss you?’
‘Then it will show me that you are a man who wishes to be flogged and burnt with pokers and then impaled.’
Caralissa went to him at once. Avoiding body contact as much as possible she leaned in, intending to plant on his cheek a single peck. Somehow, however, it was his lips she encountered once more, the rim of his dangerous mouth. Her cry of foul play was dissolved as Varik possessed her anew, regaining all his previous ground and more.
‘You have twice more tried to kill me,’ he said, pushing her away at last, his hands gripping her forearms, her toes barely grazing the ground. ‘What should be done about this, female?’
The mention of her gender sent a chill down her spine. Between her legs she was wet now. ‘I should be punished,’ she managed weakly, the words emanating from stabbing breaths. ‘I should be punished by you - by your hand.’
Caralissa shuddered as Varik placed his palm on her buttock, casually, yet with obvious possessiveness. ‘With this hand?’ he asked.
‘Yes...’ she replied, drawing the word into several syllables.
‘You choose the disgrace of a girl’s chastisement over the honourable death bestowed an assassin?’
‘I do,’ she confessed, her voice an intimate waft of air onto his chest. It wasn’t just the horror of death that motivated her - she needed his hand, hard, firm, punishing. ‘I choose to be treated as a girl.’
‘As a naughty girl,’ he corrected. ‘One who, while she could be of no actual threat to a man on account of her being a mere female, has nevertheless annoyed him and shown him disrespect.’
‘Yes,’ she agreed, allowing her attempted act of noble sacrifice for her country to be trivialised, feeling the flood of shame, delicious and hot between her legs as she formulated the words. ‘I am a naughty girl. Please, Varik, please punish me.’
Varik’s hand cracked loudly upon her firm posterior and Caralissa cried out, clutching him in wide-eyed wonder. ‘Again,’ she heard herself say.
‘Not like this. Your punishment will occur on the furs, across my lap. But first you must relieve the pressure, so I can concentrate properly on your sentence.’
‘The pressure?’ she repeated numbly.
‘Between my legs,’ he said. ‘Must you be taught everything from scratch?’
Caralissa swallowed hard. Of course she felt it, the man’s sword, his natural one, swollen and hard, pressing against her thighs. But how was she to ‘relieve’ it exactly? ‘Varik, there is something I must tell you. I have never before - never before...’
‘By the gods,’ he grumbled. ‘Are you a virgin?’
‘Yes,’ she admitted, eyes downcast, never imagining such could be a deficit in a man’s eyes.
‘No matter,’ he shrugged. ‘It will only make punishing you more fun. For now, however, I shall make use of another part of your anatomy. At least that way I shall be freed of your incessant chattering for a time.’
Caralissa felt the words hit her like a brick. Her mouth. He was referring to her mouth. Did he intend to put his manhood down her throat? Was such a thing possible?
‘Will you - I mean how will I...?’ she began foolishly, only to find herself trailing off as Varik’s hands found her shoulders, sending electric charges down her spine as he pushed her firmly downward till she was on her knees.
‘There will be a discharge,’ he explained. ‘I am told it is without flavour, though there may be a large amount. When it begins swallow hard, several times in succession and you will have no problems. I will not expect you to take the length of me this first time, though I expect diligence, and over the course of time, improvement.’
Caralissa’s mouth hung open as she beheld the thick rod, inches from her face, bulbous and pulsing, its base crowned with twin sacs, flesh coloured. Improvement, he’d said, over the course of time. Which meant she would do this again, perhaps many times. Her heart thudded in her chest. Did he intend to keep her then, as prisoner, or even as - perish the thought - a slave? He’d said it was his right. If he wished to exercise it, who would stop him come the morrow when he swept aside the pathetic ranks of weaklings who made up her army?
She clenched her fists, imagining for herself the split second luxury of resistance. If only she were a man. If only her father were alive, in his prime, the Lion of Orencia, he and his stalwart guard, the last of the true men of her nation. Then this story would have a different ending.
‘Use your tongue on it, as if it were a sweet meat,’ he counselled.
A sweet meat her eye! Tentatively, demonstrating duress, she dabbed at the extremities, determined to tinge her obedience with a healthy dose of disgust. If he were any kind of gentleman he would become so ashamed by her performance that he would have no choice but to put a stop to it.
‘Not that way, Little Flame. Like this.’
Little Flame? What sort of a name was that?
Varik guided her head, his hand on the back of her neck, moving her into place. Caralissa gagged.
‘Mmm, better,’ he said, the head of his cock having pressed itself halfway. ‘Now use your tongue. Good. You are a natural. Perhaps I should offer your services to my men. What do you think? We would have to have raffles, of course, choosing representatives from each company. Five hundred or so in all. It would only be right. Rashal men share everything, you know.’
‘I hate you,’ she gurgled onto his shaft, the words dissipating in the warm pool of spittle surging between her cheeks. ‘I hate you.’
Varik sighed, running a hand over the top of her head, stroking her like a dog. Humiliated, naked and on her knees, Queen Caralissa continued her ministrations. Apparently her protests meant nothing, nor did her rights as a free sovereign.
Very well, she thought, let me bide my time. He must sleep eventually. Then I will finish what I came here to do.
‘Pay attention now, Little Flame,’ he lectured. ‘It will be soon. In my homeland a man’s semen is revered. Were a slave to fail to retrieve every drop of her master’s emission, she would be whipped.’
Caralissa longed to spit out the foul liquid when it came. In his face, in fact, which was where he deserved it. But she dared not, for there was a whip in this very tent. She’d seen it upon her entry, and thought with disgust that such a man as this would probably use it on his lovers. A lover. Is that what she was? Hardly! Unbidden her hand strayed between her thighs. The way he was controlling her, thwarting her will was making her twitch inside, inviting her to release. Would Varik whip her? He’d yet to even spank her, though he said he would.
‘Do not touch yourself, Little Flame,’ Varik chastised, pushing her shoulders back so she could no longer reach. Her back bowed, her neck exposed and arched, Caralissa received the promised flood. Varik’s emission was warm, palpable, slightly salty. Outraged, infuriated, aroused beyond belief, she swallowed, repeating the motion over and over till he subsided.
‘Go now to the furs,’ he instructed, lifting her limp body till he made eye contact. ‘Approach them on all fours. Kiss them with your lips but do not go onto them without permission. Do you understand, girl?’
Mouth open in rapt amazement, Caralissa nodded.
‘Good,’ he said, setting her down
on the ground like a pet. ‘Go then.’
Once again he delivered a stinging blow across her buttocks and once again she inferred it was something mild, a mere foretaste of what was to come. The journey to Varik’s furs seemed to last forever, each impression of her palms and knees in the dirt being a new lesson in subjugation. Never did she imagine such a thing even for her own servants, or even for the girls in the pleasure houses where she sometimes observed, gaining entry by disguising herself as a man. Certainly the girls who served the exclusively male clientele there were slaves, being frequently made to serve their bodies along with the beverages they brought, but there’d been rules, floors upon which to walk and dance, and clothes, skimpy but real which they were allowed to wear.
How many nights she’d thrilled to the pleasure-house scenes, hiding behind her moustache, watching in rapt fascination each and every detail of the girls’ ordeals as they submitted to the gropes, eventually letting themselves be led to the back rooms.
Afterwards, Caralissa’s morbid appetite for vicarious female degradation sated, she’d sneak back across the moat into the castle. Her miserable elder sister, Romila, chewed her out for this on many occasions, but their father never said a word. He’d thought it amusing, even courageous on her part. It was always that way with her father, which is likely why, upon his death he’d passed over Romila, leaving Caralissa the throne.
The furs were soft upon her lips. What new sensations for her this night! The lips and shaft of a barbarian and harsh animal furs all upon her mouth in one short time span. Lowering her head she reached back to unbind her hair, allowing it to cascade over her face to the ground. She needed to think. She was unravelling, threatening to burst apart at the seams.
Her mission, she must remember her mission. What means would she use to dispose of him, then? It was a few hours at most till dawn to complete the deed and flee from the camp, returning victorious to her cheering subjects, proving herself thereby the best, the wisest of rulers. There was a sword here, and an axe. Could she lift them?
Caralissa gasped, her thoughts shattering as she felt the soft fur on her fingertips. She was touching them by mistake! As if from a hot fire she pulled them back to the ground so that she might be fully in accord with Varik’s will. The action shamed her at once, for it was that of a captive girl, a mere slave.
And what if she were? said a voice deep in her head - the implications enflaming her between her clenched thighs. What if she were Varik’s slave already?
She shuddered as he moved by her, his calf muscle brushing her leg. Looking up, through the tangle of her hair, she watched as he knelt in the middle of the furs upon one knee. ‘Come here,’ he commanded, slapping his palm upon his thigh. ‘Lay yourself across me here.’
Caralissa crawled to him, painfully aware that by doing so of her own free will she was revealing herself to be not a queen, but a common slut. Varik lifted his arm so she could put herself into position. He made her slide to and fro several times, in ever finer increments till she lay exactly as he wished: her sex pressing directly onto his solid thigh muscles. Almost immediately she began to seep her fragrant juices onto him. When she tried to move to her knees he pushed her back up so that she was forced into the shape of a bridge, her feet and hands bracing her on the furs.
‘Widen your legs,’ he said, using his hand to induce her to spread herself. ‘Good,’ he praised, finding access to her wet opening, manipulating her clitoris till she whimpered. ‘Now we are ready to begin.’
Caralissa clawed at the ground. The magical fingers were gone and she was alone. ‘Varik, please don’t stop. I’m so close.’
‘I want you to count for me, Little Flame. Can you do this?’
‘Yes, Varik,’ she panted, having no choice but to find her pleasure in obeying him, in responding to his condescension.
Varik patted her twice, cupping her cheeks. Caralissa had never been spanked, never even been touched by her father or her nannies. Alinor, the young man who wrote so eloquently of her nipples, also composed verses on corporal punishment and on a few occasions he’d let her spank him as ‘punishment’ for his naughty words. But that was as far as her experience went.
It was, of course, no preparation whatsoever for the barbarian’s treatment of her.
Caralissa cried out with the first blow, the tears coming quickly to her eyes. Varik’s hand burned and it sent spasms up and down her body. The worst part, the really terrible thing, was that she couldn’t move, Varik having pinned her across his knee to prevent any escape. It was going to continue, on and on, as long as he wished.
‘You did not count, Little Flame. We must begin again.’
Varik’s second blow was as evil as the first. She swore she would die, that she would never make it beyond three. ‘One!’ she called out hastily, nearly missing the count a second time.
Two more blows followed and then she was begging, pleading for him to stop, promising him anything, anything at all for him to let her go.
‘Be careful what you wish for,’ Varik said, as if thinking out loud.
Caralissa didn’t have long till she understood what he’d meant. For in place of his firm spanks he now re-substituted the grinding of his fingers against her sex. Biting her lip and balling her fists, Caralissa was in no time begging again, this time for sexual release.
‘No,’ Varik said. ‘I do not give you permission to climax.’
Sweat beaded on her forehead. He was holding her back, as if on invisible chains, preventing her from reaching the point of orgasm. ‘I - I cannot bear this!’ she wailed as he worked her, stripping bare her nerves and laying her open as if she were a lute to be stroked, string by string. ‘Please, warrior, I beg mercy!’
‘I will stop,’ he informed her. ‘But the alternative is spanking. One or the other. You choose.’
Caralissa groaned, knowing herself defeated, utterly outwitted. ‘All right, all right,’ she cried a moment later. ‘Spank me again, only take your hand from me!’
She missed the count, which meant they would have to start again from one. The pain flared more quickly this time, and after the second she was forced to ask Varik to resume his caresses. She assumed he would have to ease up on account of her being so super heated, but it turned out there were more tricks up his sleeve. Using only the surface of his fingernail, he brought her back from her stupor, managing to rekindle the throbbing ache without pushing her over the edge to release.
With all her might, sweat-soaked, confused and wild-eyed, Caralissa convulsed against his hand, her motions careening her from Varik’s fingertip down to his knee and back up again. On and on, and still no relief.
‘Please,’ she croaked, fearing she might soon lose her voice or her sanity. ‘Spank me.’
Caralissa yielded to his blows, her body limp. In a ghostly voice she called the count. After three smacks he stooped his head to hear her faint request for yet another switch, to a renewed round of touching to her neglected loins. Sliding his hand over her burning cheeks he resumed his possession of her sex. This time she wailed, her very sensations of pain and pleasure having been undone, confused inexorably. ‘No more,’ she gasped, her head tossing to and fro, her lean body like a sinew, a wire stretched to breaking point. ‘Please, my lord, no more.’
Too late, Caralissa caught herself, the word ‘lord’ slipping from her mouth unbidden, a confession extracted under torture. Bracing herself she awaited the storm - whether from herself or him or both, she did not know.
‘It is time for you to answer some questions, my Little Flame,’ he told her, his hand on her back, soothing, reassuring.
‘I will not betray my people,’ Caralissa countered in a raspy voice, her cheek pressed to the dirt, her damp forehead sticky with dust. ‘You can’t turn my body against me.’
Varik trailed a finger up the inside of her parted thighs, stopping short of the simmering volcano of her sex
but still close enough to wrench from her a new round of spasms. ‘Why did you come here alone?’ he asked.
‘I didn’t - trust - anyone else,’ she spit through clenched teeth. ‘So I did - everything - myself.’
‘That was unwise,’ Varik told her, eliciting a moan as he ran the palm of his hand across her stretched calves. ‘Considering that a man came to us earlier today to inform us there would be an assassin sent from the castle.’
‘Then you knew!’ she exclaimed. ‘And yet you posted no guards?’
‘Death comes when it wills,’ Varik reasoned. ‘We do not frighten it off with our preparations. Senelek, my brother pleaded with me, but I gave him direct orders to drink extra wine to facilitate sleep. I did the same. In addition, I relieved the regular bodyguards and removed Ahzur, my tiger, for the night. I did not even allow prayers. A man must meet his own fate, without fear.’
‘Are you mad?’ she asked, trying to block the sensation of his knee as it shifted in such a way as to create friction just beneath her breasts.
Varik laughed. ‘I have been accused of such. Though if anything, I would say I am not insane but merely bored. There is in my life no challenge left. Perhaps that is why you are here, Little Flame. I have one more question for you then we shall try something new. If you were given the chance, would you lay for my entire army to save your kingdom?’
‘The question is not fair. Nor is any other when the person being asked lies unclothed across your knee.’
He patted her glowing cheeks, inducing a mild wince. ‘Well said, Little Flame. Now you may kneel upon my bed furs.’
Caralissa lifted her head, doing her best to extract herself from the man’s lap. Varik was cool, calm and collected, not to mention dazzlingly gorgeous. It was probably the effect of her captivity and his powerful domination of her will, but she was strangely attracted to him in a way not even Alinor the poet had been able to invoke in her.
‘I need to be relieved again,’ he explained, lying upon his back, revealing a second erection every bit as vigorous as the first. ‘I would like you to use your hand this time, though when it is time to finish, I will have your mouth again.’
Caralissa's Conquest Page 2