Wild Kingdom

by Deanna Ashford

  The water dried quickly in the chill night air, making his skin icy cold, although he felt as hot as Hades itself as he looked at Zene, sitting there legs akimbo in front of the fire. She was dressed as any other warrior of Freygard in a tight-fitting leather jerkin, which cupped and cradled her breasts. Usually that was covered by a metal breastplate, but she’d not been wearing hers when they’d left. Her leather skirt was short, and her long kid boots reached her knees, leaving most of her upper leg bare, with only a thin strip of fabric threaded between her legs to cover her sex. Sarin stared at the dark valley between her shapely thighs, growing hotter and hotter by the moment. There had been no physical contact between them since they’d left the castle and he was beginning to feel very horny.

  ‘Are you going to wash?’ he asked Zene.

  ‘No.’ She tied her newly combed curls at the nape of her neck with a strip of leather. ‘I availed myself of the bathhouse in the village.’ A smug smile played around her lips as she added. ‘The water was very warm, and it proved to be a most pleasant experience.’

  Zene had told him how eager village maidens were to gain the attention of one of the Queen’s warriors – how free they were with their charms.

  ‘How pleasant?’ he snapped, a tight knot of anger forming in his stomach.

  ‘That’s none of your concern,’ she said coldly, her eyes glittering angrily because he’d had the gall to question her.

  ‘How many did you have, Zene?’ he grated, stepping towards her.

  ‘Why should I tell you?’ she flared, then grinned. ‘Only two. They were very eager to please. Does that satisfy you, sla –’ she faltered awkwardly.

  ‘Why not finish,’ he growled, striding forwards until he was looming over her. ‘Slave was the word you were about to use.’

  A flush of scarlet flooded her cheeks. ‘Only because you irritated me,’ she pointed out, staring at him rather warily. He had already demonstrated on other occasions how much stronger he was than her.

  Sarin drew back his lips in a menacing grin, certain that she was fearful now, and unsure of him. Power filled his thoughts, and it was a good feeling, a satisfying feeling. Sarin knew without a doubt that in no time at all he would be able to put his time as a slave behind him and regain his proud masculinity and fearless nature. ‘Only two of the village maidens attended you in the bathhouse,’ he sneered. ‘Why did you not have three or four?’

  Zene looked away, her fingers plucking agitatedly at the corner of the blanket on which she sat – an unusually feminine gesture for her. ‘Because there were only two maidens who were not spoken for. By my standards they were clumsy and unskilled, but good enough to temporarily satisfy my needs,’ she countered. ‘Now let’s see if the rabbit’s cooked. I’m very hungry.’

  ‘So am I,’ Sarin growled as he pounced on Zene, pushing her down on to the blanket as he leaped astride her waist. ‘Famished.’ His dark eyes were full of lust as he stared down at her.

  ‘Don’t you dare!’ she squeaked in fury.

  ‘I dare!’ he retorted, pushing his hand under her short skirt and ripping away the thin strip of fabric that protected her modesty.

  Sarin held her writhing body down as he fondled Zene intimately, his fingers exploring her sex, where the flesh was soft and warm but still relatively dry. Zene gasped in fury, yet she could do nothing to stop him, as his heavy weight pinned her to the blanket. Her nails were short, but she still managed to rake an angry red line down his chest. Sarin laughed at the discomfort and moved, trapping her flailing arms beneath his knees, rocking back a little so that he did not crush her completely.

  As he caressed her, easing his fingers gently inside her, the flesh gradually grew slippery with moisture. She wanted him, Sarin was sure of that. The soft pleasures of female lovemaking were nothing in contrast to the hot, hard flesh of a man. Zene would learn that soon enough, it was a lesson long overdue.

  ‘Soon we will be well away from Freygard,’ he told her, moving his fingers in a slow seductive rhythm, until she gave a muffled moan and ceased her struggling. ‘You must learn to behave like a lady.’

  ‘I’m no lady, you spawn of Mabon. May the gods smite you down, and worms devour you while you’re still alive.’ A string of even viler curses sprang from her lips, in a voice so loud it would have woken the dead if they’d not been buried deep below the grass of the clearing.

  She struggled harder, still cursing, so Sarin leaned forwards and stopped the spew of foul language with his lips. His kiss was powerfully passionate, smothering Zene’s attempts to fight him further. Her body grew limp and acquiescent as he employed all his considerable seductive powers to quell her resistance.

  He sat back, leaving Zene flushed and panting, opened his breeches and drew out his cock. It was already hard, but he still slid his hand up and down the shaft, caressing it lovingly, each movement of his fingers emphasising its girth and length. Zene moaned, whether from fear or desire, Sarin did not care.

  Her eyes were wide open in an expression of awesome surprise as she stared transfixed at Sarin’s cock. It was smooth, the skin stretched taut, bowing slightly towards the tip, just enough to increase her pleasure as he thrust it back and forth inside her.

  First, however, Sarin wanted to plunge it between her full lips and bury it in the warm cave of her mouth. In fact, in all their encounters he was the one who had done the pleasuring, not her. Now that was about to change.

  ‘You’re disgusting,’ Zene gasped as she found herself up close to a man’s sexual organs for the very first time. ‘Women are so much prettier and neater,’ she muttered, her eyes glazing as they fastened on the bulbous purplish head.

  ‘You are going to learn how to satisfy me with your mouth,’ Sarin said grimly.

  Zene grimaced in disbelief. ‘Take that thing in my mouth?’ she exclaimed in horror. All of a sudden her expression changed and a sly smile flashed across her features for just a moment. ‘If you wish it,’ she agreed, far too meekly.

  ‘You’ll not bite me, or even graze me with your teeth,’ he warned. ‘If you do I’ll kill you, Zene. I have no wish to do so, but the pain will force me to do it. I’ll not be able to help myself.’

  For once she appeared to believe his warning and when he eased his cock between her half-open lips she did not protest or resist, just shuddered in disgust.

  Sarin leaned further forwards, taking his weight fully off her arms. But she made no attempt to fight as he meshed his fingers in her hair and gradually eased his cock further inside her mouth. When his rod was half sheathed in the hot moist velvet, he gave a deep groan of pleasure.

  ‘Suck it, lick it,’ he commanded. ‘Give yourself time to get used to the sensation, it’s not like eating a woman. You may be called upon to do this again. Often,’ he added warningly, ‘if you do not please me fully this time around.’

  Zene did as he commanded, cautiously sliding her pursed lips up and down the long member, gradually taking more and more into her mouth. When the head nudged the back of her throat she almost choked, tears filling her eyes. Immediately Sarin pulled back; she would learn to accommodate the entire length given time, but he was more than willing to wait until she had honed her skills.

  Zene sucked on his cock, running her tongue round the rim of the head. Sarin shuddered; it felt wonderful, and his lust grew. It had been many months since he’d been sucked off. With every sensuous movement of Zene’s lips, his will and determination grew stronger. The psyche of a slave, which he’d been forced to assume, would be thrust aside and gradually become extinguished completely.

  ‘That’s good,’ he crooned, tensing in delighted surprise as the tip of her tongue dug into the tender slit on the head of his glans. Hot shivers radiated through his groin, and he felt his balls tighten in readiness as the sensations expanded.

  Knowing that he was moving far too close to orgasm, he hurriedly withdrew and slid down Zene’s body until he kneeled between her thighs. She lay there not moving at all now as he eased
open her thighs and entered her. She was warm and drippingly moist, and he heard her faint whimper of submission as her grabbed hold of her arse cheeks and thrust deeper.

  ‘Sarin,’ she mumbled, half in anger, half in passion, as she lifted her legs and hooked them around his hips. Sarin increased his smooth powerful rhythm, holding back on his own pleasure so that he could bring Zene to orgasm before he allowed himself to claim his own release. His prick seemed to grow larger, filling Zene’s tight hole as he ground into her with even more vigour. Then he pulled out and rubbed his cock-head vigorously over her clit, watching her pleasure climbing to the point of no return. As he sensed her orgasm about to erupt, he plunged back inside her. Then he felt her limbs grow rigid, and her internal muscles tighten around his cock, urging it to release its load. Zene’s entire body trembled at the strength of her orgasm as Sarin welcomed his own climax with a loud grunt of pleasure.

  The pain, anguish and suffering of the last few months drained from his body and were flushed away, sliding deep into the ground. As he withdrew from Zene he felt free as he shed the last remnants of his bondage. Zene had never allowed him to hold her in a comforting way before, but she made no sound of protest as he pulled her into his arms and held her close.

  ‘Why?’ she asked, her breath coming in short panting gasps.

  ‘Why not?’ he said in a gentle tone. ‘I wanted you, Zene. And you wanted me. Is it so hard to admit that?’

  ‘I don’t understand myself,’ she replied, her voice wavering. ‘The girls in the village. They were so eager, just as all the maidens are when one of the Queen’s warriors comes to their village. They did their best to pleasure me and yet . . .’

  ‘We are all different; just because you were bom in Freygard it does not mean you should not enjoy bedding men as well as women.’ Sarin suddenly realised how small and slight she felt in his arms, and her hair smelled of spring flowers. ‘You were raised to believe it was only right to enjoy being pleasured by a woman.’

  ‘That is how things are in Freygard,’ she insisted.

  ‘Do your farm animals only seek out their own kind?’ he asked her. ‘Of course they do not. Nature created men and women so that they could procreate, but nature also ensures that each enjoyed the experience otherwise they were unlikely to do it again.’

  ‘This is silly,’ she complained, but still did not try to pull away from him.

  ‘Coupling between men and women is an enjoyable experience Zene, the sooner you accept that the better. When you venture further afield you are bound to discover that satisfaction can be achieved in many different ways with either sex. You have a new life ahead of you, and I will be by your side as you set out on this journey of discovery.’

  Rianna waved the maid away, irritated by the fact that she suddenly felt so heavy eyed and muzzy headed again. She had woken early feeling quite refreshed until she had realised where she was and remembered the conversation she’d overheard between Niska and Leon. Despite her misgivings she still felt well and ready to face the trials fate had thrown at her; she was even hungry enough to tackle the substantial breakfast Niska’s maid brought her a few moments later. It was only a short time after she’d eaten that she had begun to feel strange.

  Rianna looked suspiciously at Tanith, who was busy packing up the bedding ready for it to be loaded into the baggage wagon. Could her food have been drugged, just like the potion she had drunk soon after leaving the castle of Dane?

  A sudden chill enveloped Rianna as all the fear and apprehension she’d suppressed overtook her again. Was Niska intending to slowly poison her? Did her former enemy intend to be rid of her completely, or was there some other nefarious reason for her behaviour? In future she must be consistently on alert. Niska’s mind was so twisted she could be planning anything.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to help you with your hair, my lady?’ Tanith asked, sounding a little breathless after her brief exertion.

  ‘No, I can manage.’

  Rianna began to fashion her long, newly brushed hair into a loose plait. She tied the ends with a silver ribbon as Tanith picked up a couple of bundles and vanished through the curtain. Rianna scrambled to her feet, doing her best to ignore the swimming sensation in her head, and followed Tanith. Relieved to find no sign of Niska in the main body of the tent, she paused at the entrance and watched the plump maidservant hurry towards the baggage wagon.

  The morning was icy cold. The soft grass of the clearing was now rock hard and a layer of frost covered the trees in a thick dusting of white. Each time she exhaled her breath hung in the air like thin plumes of smoke. The chill freshness was reviving, but Rianna still felt weak and not quite in full control of her limbs – as if she’d drunk far too much strong wine.

  From now on she would watch everything she consumed, only eating foods that could not easily be tampered with, and only drinking water – the most finely powdered herbs would be easily visible in that. She would starve if necessary in order to keep her mind focused and her wits fully intact. Rianna fought her fear, still uncertain of Niska’s plans or motives, wishing she could discover what they were. Tarn had left her in Leon’s care, certain she was safe, but he had unknowingly left her in peril. She took a few unsteady steps forwards, looking around the campsite for any sign of Leon, and it felt as if the ground was undulating slowly beneath her feet.

  Steadying herself on a pile of sacks and other baggage, she looked again for Leon, determined to find a way to speak to him in private. Unfortunately, she could see no trace of him, or any of his men, just an uncomfortably large amount of Niska’s mercenaries milling about the camp.

  Some of them stopped what they were doing to stare at Rianna, exchanging lewd comments about the beautiful, but pale-looking noblewoman. There was no respect in their demeanour, just a lustful curiosity about the shapely body that was hidden beneath her long dark cloak. Rianna tried to ignore their crude comments and the disgustingly obscene gestures they exchanged one to another.

  In the distance she noticed a man who towered over the others, his head shaven, his skin like polished ebony. A flicker of remembrance turned into amazement as she recognised one of the Nubian slaves from Sarin’s palace in Aguilar. There had been a number of these unusually dark-skinned men serving Sarin, each had his tongue cut out so that he could not disclose any of Sarin’s secrets to the outside world.

  There were chambers in the palace that only Sarin and the Nubians were allowed to enter. It was said that there Sarin had carried out his more bizarre sexual excesses, practices that he kept hidden from his wife and most of the members of his seraglio. Rianna knew that Tarn had seen the inside of these chambers many times. Yet he had never spoken of his experiences to Rianna, never allowed her to share the memories of the pain and indignity he had endured at Sarin’s hands.

  More memories came flooding back of Sarin, Niska and, most especially, Tarn. How she wished her beloved would appear right now – gallop into the camp, snatch her up and take her far away from Niska.

  Rianna was so caught up in these thoughts that she failed to notice the two men moving closer to her. One was a lean, dark man, with a bushy black beard, and a curved sword thrust into the grubby red sash round his waist. His companion was the man with frizzy, carrot-coloured hair who had been staring at Rianna in the carriage the previous morning.

  Blackbeard stepped in front of Rianna and grinned to reveal teeth like blackened stumps, which made him look doubly threatening. He stank of stale perspiration and Rianna’s stomach churned with revulsion as she went to back away from him, but she was brought short by the carrot-haired man who had positioned himself behind her to prevent her retreat. She found herself trapped between the two evil-smelling creatures as Blackbeard thrust his face closer to hers. Strangely enough his breath smelled surprisingly sweet, but it was overwhelmed by the fetid odour coming from his body. He spoke to her in a language she could not understand, rolling his eyes, and lewdly licking his thick lips while Rianna’s revulsion
increased as she saw the specks of uneaten food lodged in his beard.

  She shivered. ‘Don’t touch me,’ she said shakily, thinking him the foulest creature she’d ever laid eyes on.

  His grubby hand reached for her, but all of a sudden he was grabbed and hauled away from Rianna. A fist smashed in his face; nose and teeth cracked in a spray of red, before he was flung to the ground with a loud thump. His carrot-haired accomplice moved to his aide, swiftly helping the wounded man to his feet, as Rianna’s unexpected saviour looked worriedly down at her. ‘Are you harmed?’ he asked in a sing-song voice that was way too gentle for his hard looks.

  ‘No,’ Rianna said and gave an unconscious shudder as she saw the two men hurry away. Blackbeard was limping, blood running down his face from his broken nose. The other mercenaries displayed no sympathy for their compatriots, they just laughed and threw scurrilous taunts at the sorry pair as they disappeared from sight.

  ‘You should not wander around the camp alone. It is not safe. Most of these men are little more than animals,’ her saviour said very seriously. He was sumptuously dressed in a purple silk cloak, and unfamiliar garments, which included full black trousers gathered in tight at the top of his high leather boots. He was quite handsome in an exotically bizarre fashion, although Rianna found the deep scars on each cheek, which appeared to have been made deliberately, rather off-putting.

  ‘I did not realise . . .’ He made her feel a little uneasy. His slanted eyes were dark, a strange flat black, as if someone had sucked out his soul, leaving just the husk of a man.

  He smiled politely as he took hold of her arm. ‘Let me escort you to the carriage,’ he said, gently but firmly turning her in the direction of Niska’s coach, which was just behind the baggage wagon. ‘The baroness would never forgive me if you came to any harm, Lady Rianna,’ he said as he glanced around the camp. ‘I am Chang, the leader of these men,’ he added in a tone that made Rianna think he did not hold them in high regard.