She'd penned the young animal away from the herd, then let the horse grow accustomed to her touch while she fed it choice bits of fresh green grass and handfuls of grain. He soon understood that all food and water came from her hand and that her touches were gentle, even pleasant. Within a few weeks, the colt would follow her like a dog, and when it grew to sufficient size, she had gradually taught it to accommodate her weight, then to obey a twitch of a rein or even the tap of a willow wand on its neck.
Now the same tricks were being used on her. Why could she not bring herself to resist?
Yet what good would it do? Aguilar could have her slain should she prove obstreperous. He could deny her food and water until desperation drove her to do anything he asked. How she hated to admit this, even to herself, but innate honesty offered her no options. She was his captive, his wild creature to be tamed to his command.
She waited patiently after the last bit of food had passed her lips, feeling his gaze moving over her body, abruptly finding herself past shame or shyness. A slave had no need of modesty, he had said. He walked around her and studied her from every angle.
"Stand," he said.
She rose, now not even having to think about the way to move in a fluid, graceful manner. Although her feet and lower legs were almost numb from kneeling, she got up in a single flowing motion. Naked and enchained, she held up her head and straightened her spine. It was not pride, but simply that she did not want him to see her spiritless and broken, a drooping, dejected creature. She took a deep breath and felt the action lift her breasts.
When he moved in front of her, he nodded, as if satisfied with what he had seen. She kept her eyes modestly lowered, another of Madame Tanith's lessons well learned. Yet feeling the weight of his gaze upon her, she found a tingle of excitement building beneath her skin.
Never in all her life had she been more totally aware of herself as a female, of another as male. The awareness built to a crackling tension in mere moments. He can do anything he wants to me or with me. I should be afraid, should be enraged, but instead, I anticipate. Nay, I actually desire...
Casually, he walked to the foot of the bed and sat there. Without meaning to do so, she turned to face him, still standing straight and holding an outward semblance of calm. His expression was bland, almost bored, yet his eyes held a banked fire, a gleaming coal of curiosity and interest. His angled lips curved into a faint smile.
"Come here, slave, and kneel before me."
She took two steps, which slacked the chains and brought her just short of his knees. She folded down in front of him, clasping her hands lightly in front of her thighs. His strong muscled legs beckoned, bare beneath his short warrior's tunic, the skin warmly golden and marked by only a few light scars. Shadowed beneath the hem of the tunic, which crossed the middle of his thighs, she sensed his male parts begin to stir.
She might be virgin and personally innocent to the ways of men, but she had witnessed the mating of horses, the coupling of dogs. Even the Eosterfest rites of the serfs and common folk in Cymrydda, by which the forces of nature were reminded of the manner in which new plants and animals must be produced. A sudden vision of his golden shaft impaling her sent a shiver of anticipation through her body. Would he mount her from the rear as did the beasts or lay her on her back?
Because he waited, she must wait. Hers was not to make the first move, she knew. She felt her nipples stiffen and tingle, felt moisture pool from the aching hollow beneath the triangle of coppery curls at the bottom of her belly. She licked her lips, which felt fuller and more sensitive than ever before, and fixed her gaze on his feet.
Aguilar's feet were solid and well shaped, golden as the rest of him, clean with the nails cut square and short. A faint banding of lighter color showed where the straps of his sandals traced a criss-cross path over his insteps and around each ankle.
"The slave may kiss her master's feet," he said finally.
Did he read her mind? Had he felt the pressure of her gaze there? She had to scoot back a little to obey his command. Then she bent forward to rest her hands on the floor, one on either side of his feet. Her hair drifted down to pool around her hands, sift across his feet and spread out upon the rug. She bent further until she could gently touch her lips to one foot, then the other.
His skin felt cool and smooth, while a faint scent of sandalwood lingered upon him. Surely he had come to her directly from his bath. This and an intuitive sense told her that he did not like to be dirty, that the dust and sweat of a busy day seldom lingered long upon his body after he arrived home.
She had never before kissed anyone's feet. As recently as a few hours ago, she would have scoffed at the very idea. But now, in the midst of that unlikely act, she found it the most erotic and exciting thing she had ever done. Her bare back was offered to him, her bare bottom lifted when she bent forward. She could visualize herself in that humbling and vulnerable pose. The image was shocking and yet stimulating. With sudden daring, she put out her tongue and touched the smooth cool skin just above his right toes. It was like the swift, submissive lick of a devoted hound.
Chapter 4
In The Bed Of Aguilar
* * *
"Enough."
Did she only imagine it or was there truly a hint of laughter in Aguilar's voice? She felt the weight of his hand on her head, then his fingers wove into her hair and he tugged to lift her head. Not hard enough to hurt, yet it made her rise quickly lest it become painful. She sat back on her heels, and on the encouragement of that trace of a laugh, raised her gaze to look into his face.
Yes, there was amusement in his eyes, more amber now than the black she had thought them to be.
He slightly tilted his head and looked back at her. "I think I will call this slave Jayla."
She struggled to contain her start. Does he know my name? Does he choose one so similar to taunt me or to comfort me? She sucked in a quick breath, filling her lungs with his sandalwood scent. The sweetness made her dizzy.
"In the care of Tanaya, you have learned the basics of control over your body. Now it is time for the reverse of that lesson."
"Tanaya? Who..."
"You know her as Madame Tanith. I forget."
Curiosity overcame her caution and she asked, unthinking, "Who, nay what is she?"
Then she gasped, fearful such daring might earn punishment. Her skin crawled at the thought. Madame Tanith's punishments had been painful enough. What would the Master's be? Certainly a slave should have no curiosity. But by the gods, she could not totally change her nature overnight or over the course of a mere few days. If a mindless twit was wanted, they should have chosen someone other than her!
To her surprise, he smiled. "She is my grandmother and also one of the last pure bloods of the ancient race of the East, the Djine. As a young woman she was a favored concubine of the last Emperor of the Djine. When the barbarians of the new race overthrew the Moon-Called Emperor, she fled with the captain of his guard into the western wilds. That was very long ago. The elder race were long-lived folk."
For a moment his expression had an inward-looking cast, his eyes unfocused and his stare passing her by. She digested the new knowledge and waited, not daring to push her luck with further questions.
As if he suddenly recalled where he was, Aguilar looked at her again. "Aye, it is now time to learn how to enjoy complete loss of control. Have you ever been with a man, Jayla?"
"How--er--no, not in that way. It was not permitted. I was to go pure into marriage with my father's choice for his successor as war leader. I was to be the ruler, but a woman could not lead the armies of Cymrydda into war. That much of leadership I must share with he who would father the next high king."
"So you are virgin, as the auctioneer said." He chuckled. "I suspected, but was not sure."
Jaelle'n cursed the fair northern skin that would not hide her blushes. She felt the radiant heat in her face and throat and knew her skin flamed bright. She should no longer be embarrassed,
but she was. "A slave has no need of modesty," he had said. "Not by my own choice," she snapped, "but by the necessity of custom. I know I am old for that state, but I was to be wed this high summer's day."
"And how old are you? I would say young in the span of my grandmother's folk, even in my own, since I have enough of that blood to lengthen my life."
"I am eighteen summers."
He nodded. "A good enough age with many fine seasons yet ahead of you. But we will not advertise your age to potential buyers since they have little understanding of these things. If you train well, they will see only your beauty and youthful appearance and be satisfied." He rose from the bed. "Stand."
As she came to her feet, she found herself almost touching him from shoulder to toes and took a hasty step backward.
Again he chuckled. "You have naught to fear, Jayla. Have you not yet learned that my touch does not burn you?"
He reached under the bed and brought out the other two filigreed bands with chains attached. Quickly, slickly, he clasped the bands around her ankles. Then, he reached again under the edge of the bed and came out with four chains--the opposite ends of those that were linked to her bonds.
"A good pleasure slave must know how to receive as well as how to give pleasure. As a virgin, I expect you have no knowledge of these things, so we must teach you all. It is best that you be restrained to get full benefit from the early lessons. If you do not resist, there will be no pain."
Carelessly holding the chains in one hand, he walked to the head of the bed. Jaelle'n followed, taking care not to let the chains pull tight. From her place at the foot of the bed, she had thought the head sat against the wall. She now realized that was not the case. He drew aside the curtains to reveal an alcove behind the bed. On the wall, she saw a series of rings mounted in the stone. Before she could wonder what they were for, she found out.
With a smooth and impersonal touch, he turned her and backed her up to the wall. He visually measured her height against the rings, selected two, near level with her shoulders, and slipped the chains of her wristlets through the rings, drawing them up until her arms were extended straight out from her body. Then he secured her feet, pulling the chains until she stood with her legs apart, the length of at least two of her feet between her ankles.
The wall at her back felt cool and smooth, almost damp. She leaned against it, weakness washing over her as apprehension built in her mind. What's going to happen? What is he going to do? Whatever it was, she could not resist or evade. Indeed, she could not move more than a few inches, and that only by arching her back or pressing herself tight against the wall.
As Aguilar turned away, he gave a sharp whistle. Within moments, three small golden-skinned women appeared. Two carried large plumes and the third a bundle of thin withes. He spoke to them in a language Jaelle'n could not understand. The three all giggled, clearly amused by his orders or explanation.
One went around the bed and returned with a padded bench. Aguilar sat on it, across the alcove from Jaelle'n. Then the three women approached her. One with a huge tawny feather raised the plume and brushed it across Jaelle'n's face. For a moment, she thought she would sneeze, but she controlled the urge.
All over her face the feather traced, tickling and yet tantalizing. Under her chin, down her throat, across her lips, then slowly down between her breasts and across her stomach. Her muscles drew tight, but she held herself still. By exercise of will, she would control her response.
"Too easy," Aguilar said.
He spoke again to one of the small women. She scurried out to return with a silken scarf. Aguilar took it from her. He stepped up to Jaelle'n and quickly wrapped the band around her head, covering her eyes.
What a difference that made. Blind, she could not guess where the next touch would be, the next tickle or stroke. Her skin quivered as she had seen a horse's hide move, trying to shake off a fly. Every bit of her skin tensed, awaiting the next touch. She shivered, gasped and fought to hold still.
Suddenly, sharp stings replaced the silky strokes, once across her upper thighs and again, just beneath her breasts. The strikes left burning tingles, not true pain, but a sharp contrast to the feather's touches. Then she recalled the withes, not just one, but a whole bundle of them. She could be switched to agony! She bit her lip to hold back a moan. This added a whole new dimension to her torment. Tickle or sting? She had no way to know what to expect, no way to prepare for the sensation.
Something that felt like a small animal's soft fur brushed across her stomach, followed by a stinging slash. A feather teased the soft inner skin inside her elbows, behind her knees. It was horrible, but also intensely exciting. Her breasts grew full and heavy, the nipples swelling and stiff. Hot, slick moisture pooled between her legs. She quivered, sagging until the chains pulled on her wrists. Then her whole body drew taut and tense, every muscle going tight, waiting, an aching awareness centering somewhere beneath the arch of her ribs, behind the dimple of her navel and above the moist heat of her nether slit.
She had no way to measure how long the delicious, distressing torture continued. Tickles and slashes, strokes and brushes and cuts. Finally a whimper broke free. "Please, please." She trembled so she could hardly stand, muscles aching with their tension, yet unable to relax. When she sagged slightly, it put painful pressure on her wrists, and her hands grew numb.
"Please what, Slave?"
Aguilar's voice was too close! She felt the whisper of his breath across her throat, her cheeks, now moist with the sheen of sweat. Then hands cupped her breasts, his, by the size and strength of them. He brushed his thumbs across her erect nipples. She felt the touch clear to her toes. He stroked his hands down her sides to her hips and back up to her breasts.
"Is your body awake now, Slave? Does it want, does it need something?"
His words taunted, yet caressed. Smooth, low, calm and husky. They seemed to create a rhythm that matched the slow movements of his hands over her body. The rhythm of her heartbeat, of the blood surging through her veins, of her breath, in and out. If her hands were free, she would have torn the scarf off her face. The need to see, to be able to anticipate, grew greater with each passing second, each unexpected touch, yet she could do naught to satisfy it. She could only wait and let them come as they would. Endure or enjoy--or perhaps both.
"The body of this slave has come awake to sensations." The words were torn from her, without her willing them to be said. "It desires the Master's touch, needs his hands as it craves food and drink."
His hands slipped over her flesh, smoothing, stroking, sliding and seducing. Her skin reached for his touch, her muscles quivered with it. She was so weak she could scarcely stand, and yet she strained toward him, her flesh seeking his. She could not breathe. Her mouth fell open to let more air reach her straining lungs. Then his mouth came against hers, his tongue slipping between her parted lips. Now she really could not breathe, yet she had no desire to withdraw from the pressure of his lips on hers, from the thrusts of his tongue as he tasted and explored her. Dizzy and melting, she felt her legs give way. The bonds on her wrists cut into her arms as she sank against the chains.
In an instant, his arms came around her, lifting and supporting. He spoke a single sharp word, after which she heard a scurrying sound, then a soft jingle. Her arms dropped as the chains released, spilling musically down the wall. He lifted her into his arms, one supporting her shoulders and the other beneath her knees. His body felt hard and hot as he gathered her close. She felt him shift and turn, heard the chains tinkle, dragging from her wrists and ankles as he carried her. The scarf still covered her eyes, but she sensed he left the alcove and went to the bed.
When his arms withdrew, she hung for a moment in space. Then her body sank into the silky covering of the bed. She lay as she fell, sprawling, too drained to move, and yet each cell in her body still cried for relief and release. Deep inside she felt a throbbing, an empty aching hunger. As a bit of strength returned to her limbs, she writhed on th
e bed. From somewhere above, she heard the low rumble of his chuckle.
"Nay", he said. "Not tonight. You may desire, but you lack the strength to endure any more. Sleep, little slave, and tomorrow perhaps your hungers and curiosity will be satisfied."
He caught her shoulder and turned her on her side, unknotted the scarf and drew if away. For a few moments, her eyes were dazzled, even by the soft light of the single lamp on the table at the bedside. She felt more than saw as he took the chains off her wrist and ankle bands and tossed them onto the rug at the foot of the bed.
"Tonight you may sleep in Aquilar's bed, Jayla, but only if you will be still and not disturb me."
"Her master's wish is this slave's command. He is wise; she is too weak to learn how to please him. Should she move to the foot of the bed to make more room for him?"
"It matters not." He blew out the light, and from the sounds, shed his tunic. The bed shifted slightly as he sat on the edge, then lifted his legs onto the mattress and stretched out with a slight sigh. "There is room for me and a half dozen more on this bed. Surely it will accommodate the two of us."
Jaelle'n slept badly. All night long she was aware of Aquilar, laying hardly a hand span away. She held herself as far from him as she could, tried not to squirm and toss to disturb his slumber. That was difficult, for she itched and ached, wanting nothing so much as to crawl close to him and press her body against his solid warmth. The air was merely cool, but she craved the heat his body radiated, for the chill of her nudity seemed particularly sharp. Finally, she curled up into a tight knot and fell into a fitful sleep, huddled along the foot of the bed as she had slept the previous nights alone.
THE TAMING OF JAELLE'N Page 4