by Loki Renard
Now he had a new reckless, lawless, stateless half-human to tame, and he had a feeling that she could potentially prove more difficult than any of those he had put down before.
There was no time to waste. Fingers of light were starting to creep over the horizon and he had a long flight ahead of him if he wanted to arrive before dark. He took the cage between his talons, beat his wings, and rose into the air, the cage dangling beneath him like a little trinket.
As Vitomir took flight, heralds sounded, triumphant roars breaking across the palace and then spreading across the royal city. It was curious timing, but it was not for him that they roared. They were announcing the birth of the royal heir—and just before the break of the new morning. A most auspicious birth time on a most auspicious day. Vitomir let out a cry and a flash of fire, joining the celebration even as he flew from the royal city.
He felt a strange mixture of joy, triumph, and concern as he sped toward the northern realms. How close this had all been to a grand disaster. The little half-human he had caged had almost thrown the entire kingdom into disarray. If Casimer had died in the night, it would almost certainly have led to civil war. A baby could not rule the dragon realm, so the sons of the older high lords would almost certainly have attempted to do so. There would be at least three warlords battling for the throne, and he, Vitomir, would have been forced to put them down like dogs.
He could almost taste the blood that would have been shed and it made some inner part of him tremble. This female prisoner, she was dangerous. Not because of her strength, but because of her timing. If he had been more superstitious, he would have imagined that something like fate had guided her to such a uniquely vulnerable moment in history.
He would be on his guard. He would ensure that she never had any opportunity to cause strife again. He would punish her for her wrongdoing and he would attempt to instill some kind of understanding of the world as it was, not as her bitter little heart imagined it to be.
* * *
Lilly felt a rocking sensation and the rushing of wind and assumed that the cage she had been put in must be being carried through the air. She wanted more than anything to spread her wings and take flight away from her captor, but everything was dark and the flow of flight had been taken from her. She was like other human girls now, 5′2 of nothing at all. How could she possibly hope to handle herself faced with the seven-foot giant Vitomir?
It took a long time for the motion to stop, but she was sure she was down again when there was a heavy bump that shook her out of the half-doze she had allowed herself to fall into. There was a loud scraping and then a rumbling as the cage was shifted across various surfaces and then the world got much darker. She hadn’t been able to see anything from the blindfold, but the sun had nevertheless managed to shed some of its glow through the fabric. Wherever she was now was far from the sun. There was no warmth on her skin, only the chill of air from cold stone.
For a while nothing happened. Then the door of the cage scraped open and she felt large, powerful hands pull her out.
“Do you need to relieve yourself?”
Lilly blushed at the question, but nodded behind her blindfold. She did. Badly.
She was picked up and carried, then put down. She felt blades of grass beneath her hands and knees. The chains that joined the shackles were removed, restoring her freedom of movement, but not removing the cuffs at her ankles and wrists, or the collar at her neck. The blindfold was then whipped off and she found herself under the unpleasant glower of Vitomir, the giant man with the fierce golden gaze. He was wearing a dark silk and leather doublet and trousers of similar material and hue.
The area she found herself in looked like a small walled garden, a little internal outdoor space. There were old stone walls and bushes that looked a little like roses blooming with purple flowers, and in the corner a little table and some chairs. It was very nice, but she had a feeling that nothing that was going to happen to her would be.
“If you need to go, then go,” Vitomir snapped impatiently.
Lilly felt a rush of heat suffuse her face. “Here?”
“You can pee on the grass,” he said.
“And if I…”
“You can do that too,” he smirked.
“No, I can’t. That’s disgusting.”
“What’s disgusting is trying to kill a king you don’t know,” Vitomir snarled down at her. “Now go, or I will take you back to your cage and lock you in and that will be the end of it.”
She wanted to cry. She wished she had never come to the realm. No. More than that. She wished she had never been born. But none of that changed what she had to do in front of those great golden eyes, narrowed down at her with stern demand.
Lilly spread her legs as far as she could to avoid peeing on herself and lowered her body to the ground, feeling the grass brush against the curls of her pubic hair as she relieved herself into the soft earth below. It was humiliating, but necessary. Her bladder was full to bursting. Fortunately she did not need to move her bowels.
When the hot trickle stopped, Vitomir clipped a chain to her collar and led her in. She knew better than to try to rise to her feet. She crawled over the grass and then over paving stones and then mercifully into a carpeted room. It was a very nicely presented place, far less ostentatious than the great gleaming white stone palace. It put her in mind of a country manor, the furnishings looking handmade.
Vitomir coaxed her over to a spot in front of a fireplace. Then he reached to a side table and took a leather lash in his hand. Keeping the leash taut on the collar to ensure that she stayed in place, he took a step to the side of her and brought the thick leather down across her bottom with a hard swat. The sound of it biting her bottom echoed against the stone walls, but she bit her lower lip and stayed quiet. It did not hurt all that much. It was relatively soft leather and it was the most padded portion of her anatomy.
He repeated the treatment on her other cheek, then back to the first, then to the other. Over and over the lash landed, heat and sting burning until she could not pretend that it did not hurt. It seared. It stung. Every fresh stroke made her jolt forward, but she was soon tugged back into position for another dose. Vitomir said nothing as he punished her.
Finally she let out a little gasping whine of pain. He stopped for a moment, crouched down in front of her, and took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look into his eyes.
“Understand me, pet,” he growled. “You’re an enemy of this realm. The only reason Casimer hasn’t sent you back to the human world is because your bloodline is treacherous and needs to be watched day and night. The only reason you haven’t been subject to capital punishment is because you’re too young to understand what you’re doing, and too ignorant to know that you’ve been used as a pawn in a dead man’s game. Casimer thinks you can be rehabilitated. I think you’re a brutal little bitch who needs to stay on a leash.”
When she didn’t say anything, the lash bit across her ass again, raising a wail in spite of her clenched teeth. She felt as though her ass was swollen to about twice its usual size. It was so sensitive even a light tap would have made her cry out.
“I hate you,” she hissed.
“Good. Hate me,” he said, releasing her chin to grab a thick handful of her hair. “Hate me all you like. Just don’t ever, even for a second, think that I will show mercy for misbehavior. You have earned no trust. You have earned no privileges. You have no good will at all.”
He pulled her back to the cage that sat in the corner of that room and put her in it before walking away. He was back a few minutes later with two bowls. He opened the door, pushed them both inside, then closed it again.
One contained what looked like clean water. The other was some kind of cooked meat. She was hungry. Had not eaten in what felt like days. But there were no utensils and obviously he intended for her to consume her food the same way she eliminated it—like an animal.
“You’re a bastard,” she hissed at
him.
“And you’re either hungry or not,” he replied. “I will take the bowls up in five minutes whether you have filled your belly or not.”
Tears beaded in her eyes as she ate from the bowl, ground meat seared with a little salt and nothing more. Simple, basic food. She was glad that the dragon realm didn’t have supermarkets and commercial dog food. She was sure he would have given her that if he could have.
She ate because she had to. Ate because she didn’t want to lose her strength. She was going to need it to escape this asshole. And she was definitely going to escape. There was no doubt about that. He wanted her for some reason. Wanted her alive. And she doubted it was because he wanted her soiling herself in a cage, even if he had put her through the embarrassment of peeing outside.
Maybe he was cruel, maybe he was even sadistic. But at some point, he would make a mistake. And she would be waiting to capitalize on it.
True to his word, he came back for the bowls five minutes later. He had a rolled-up blanket in his hand, which he tossed into the cage when he removed the food bowl. She was glad he left the water. He said nothing to her, simply walked away again, leaving her caged.
The cage was so small she could only stand up, turn around, and lie down on the blankets provided. They were scratchy and more like sack cloth than anything. She knew for a fact they had better products. This was all part of the punishment, being locked away like an animal, fed from a bowl, watered the same way.
She sat down in the far back of the cage and wrapped her arms around her knees, taking stock of her situation. There wasn’t much to really take stock of. She was captured. The heavy collar around her neck made it impossible to take the one form capable of doing any damage. And even if she could have taken her flight form, what good would it have done underground?
Her ass was blazing, made worse by the scratchy blanket. She tried squirming to the side, but it didn’t make it any more comfortable. In the end she managed to find a position that sort of worked, her collar pressed against the bars of the cage, her head resting against a bit of blanket she had managed to push between her hair and the bars.
She slept uncomfortably, on and off, waking at every small sound.
Chapter Six
He had not been kind to her.
He would not be kind to her.
Vitomir went upstairs to his bedroom, not before making it clear to his servants that nobody was to go into the garden study, or the garden itself. Nobody was to pass through the door under any circumstances. They knew him well enough to obey the order without question. If the cook wondered why he was suddenly being told to make plain meat instead of preparing his usual incredible meals, he had the good sense not to ask.
Vitomir laid back on his bed. It was very late and a day’s flight had made him tired. He let his eyes close as he thought about Lilly of Lazarus. She was pretty, and in spite of everything she had done, and all she had deserved, it was difficult not to give into the weaker impulse for mercy when he looked into her eyes.
He reminded himself that he had already shown her great mercy in saving her life. Twice, really. The first time, if not for his body sheltering hers on the floor of the king’s chambers, the royal guard would have torn her apart in seconds. The second time had taken place when he had petitioned Casimer to give her the girl for his own.
Casimer had considered it a very poor reward, but had granted his request. And now Vitomir had the most dangerous little half-breed whelp in the entire realm curled up in a cage hating him with a passion.
He was going to give her more than enough reasons to hate him. He had to. What she had said to Casimer made it clear that her head was full of fanatical nonsense. It could not be argued away. He knew that well enough. With fanatics, one could talk until every star in the sky blinked out of existence and still they would hold fast to their beliefs. He could only imagine the lies she had been told by her bitter exile father who had not raised her as a daughter should be raised, but instead sharpened her like an arrowhead and sent her flying toward King Casimer’s heart.
She had no doubt been hurt in the process. Pain was necessary to make someone like her. No pretty teenager threw herself at a king without having been tormented. And now he would become the tormentor, for very different reasons and in very different ways and she would learn to see the world in a new way.
Chapter Seven
Morning came and Lilly felt as though she had not slept a wink. When the door of the room opened, she jolted fully awake out of the non-sleep she had been in, a half-dreaming twilight that did not give rest or respite from her horrible situation. The bars of the cage remained as oppressive as ever, the blanket as unsatisfying and uncomfortable.
Vitomir’s leather-clad feet approached and she found herself scowling at his knees with loathing as the door swung open.
“Come here,” he snapped. “It’s time you were bathed.”
She edged out, eying him warily. The cage was terrible and she was glad to leave it, but given that she was leaving it in his custody, she was not so sure that her situation had in any way improved. Last time he had made her pee outside and whipped her. She could only imagine what humiliation he had in store this time.
As before, he insisted she crawl everywhere she went. He took her outside and once more she relieved herself on the grass. She did not even bother to protest this time. He was clearly not the sort of man who responded to complaints.
There was a tub standing on the paving stones near the door. She hadn’t noticed it at first, but it made sense. Of course she would be bathed outside like an animal. She was probably lucky that he had not decided to wash her down with a hose.
“Stay,” he said, pointing to a spot next to the tub.
As she sat there burning with anger, Vitomir leaned over the water and breathed upon it. He was dressed in black silk from head to toe and now he began turning the sleeves of his shirt up his arms until they were curled above the elbow, freeing the powerful length of his forearms. He tested it with the underside of his arm, and then she realized she had seen Lazarus do similar things. Dragons could manipulate the physical world in a way humans could not. He was heating the water, and making sure that it was not too hot.
She bit her lower lip, wondering if that showed some kind of care for her, or if he just didn’t want to ruin his fun so soon in the day by scalding her.
He turned and looked at her. “You can stand up,” he said. “Stretch.”
It felt incredibly good to rise to her feet and walk tall—though she was still very much shorter than this dragon, and feeling his eyes roaming her naked body left her embarrassed and vulnerable. She avoided looking at him, but she could sense his eyes on her.
“Get in,” he said after a minute or two. “It’s time you were washed.”
She stepped into the tub and sank down into the water. It was perfect. Hot enough to really make her muscles relax, not nearly hot enough to hurt. Her involuntary sigh at feeling warm water on her sticky, dirty skin drew a cruel smirk from her master.
“What? If I like it too much will you make it cold? Or will you scald me?”
“You would do well to hold your tongue, pet. Every time you open your mouth you make more trouble for yourself.”
She watched him from her warm marinade of loathing and bathwater as he took a knee next to the tub and reached for her.
She ducked away and he made a tutting sound.
“Come here,” he said, crooking his finger at her.
“Why?”
“I am going to wash your hair.”
“I can do it myself.”
“You will do nothing yourself, pet,” he growled. “Come here.”
In the end, she did not really have a choice. The tub was not so large it would allow her to flee, and it was an easy matter for him to grasp a thick handful of her hair and lock her in place. Squirming did nothing, and she refused to whimper for him.
He let her go for a moment and Lilly smelled the scent of her
bal shampoo being applied to his large palm and then felt him rub it into her hair, scooping water over her locks to wet them before working his powerful fingers over her scalp in a motion that would have been soothing if it were not coming from a cruel giant.
He washed her hair and rinsed it, then proceeded to wash the rest of her body too, his thick fingers roaming her form, soaping her breasts, her back, even down between her thighs, where the folds of her sex were soaped and cleaned as well—and then his hand slid beneath her and she felt a cloth playing between her cheeks, scrubbing at her bottom hole. She could not help her blushes, or her little embarrassed moans as the dragon with the golden eyes washed every inch of her, making it clear she belonged to him.
When he was finished, he bade her stand, helped her out of the bath, and picked up a towel. Just like the washing, he did everything for her. He dried every inch of her thoroughly, her nipples pink and erect as his large hands cupped her breasts, wicking water away from her skin as he worked the towel all over her body, her bottom and pussy receiving ample attention… all the way to her toes.
Her hair, he dried with a combination of his fingers curling through her dark locks and soft dragon breaths blowing through. The slight natural curl responded incredibly to his touch and soon her hair was dry and soft about her shoulders, dark curls and waves playing around her face and wrapping themselves around the collar that held her in this weak state.
“You are quite beautiful,” he said, his handsome but harsh features momentarily lapsing into admiration.
“You’re even worse than I thought you would be,” Lilly shot back, taking the opportunity to speak her mind. “You’re cruel. You treat me like a dumb animal. You humiliate me. And you think that will change my mind about what this realm and its rulers are about? You…”