Savage Surrender

by Deanna Ashford

  ‘Why not, Tarn?’ Sarin whispered. ‘You were not so reluctant a moment ago.’ He pressed his body even closer so that his penis was trapped between their hard, male bodies. ‘Despite your denials I now know that deep in your heart you do desire me.’

  ‘It’s a lie, you deceived me,’ Tarn groaned, feeling Sarin’s penis pulse against his hot flesh.

  The blindfold was eased from Tarn’s eyes. He blinked in the sudden light as he stared at Sarin, not wanting to accept that which he knew was true. How could he not have realised that it wasn’t Brigit touching him? When she’d first pressed herself against him, Tarn had smelt no perfume, and her hands were smaller and weaker than Sarin’s. The two men had spent enough time together in the past, so why hadn’t he recognised Sarin’s sweet musky scent? Pain constricted Tarn’s heart, his fear profound and all-encompassing. He had to accept that even if he had been duped he’d still been aroused by Sarin’s touch.

  ‘Your mind deceived you, Tarn, because you wanted to be deceived,’ Sarin told him with a self-satisfied smile. ‘I suggest you think hard on that.’

  ‘I cannot,’ Tarn said, filled with self-loathing.

  Sarin beckoned to Brigit, who crouched in the corner of the room staring at them. ‘Come here,’ he ordered.

  She approached Sarin and bent forward over the chair arm, parting her buttock cheeks with her hands, holding them so wide that both Tarn and Sarin could see her rosy nether mouth. It looked moist and shiny, as though it had already been well oiled.

  Tarn’s knees felt weak as he watched Sarin move over to Brigit. Soon it was likely he would be in her place, submissively offering his body to his master. His mind cried no, while his traitorous flesh almost ached with longing as he watched Sarin gently ease his manhood in Brigit’s nether mouth. She gasped, as if in discomfort, when Sarin first entered her. But as he grasped hold of her hips and pounded into her, she lifted her buttocks to meet each welcoming thrust.

  Tarn was aroused by the sight of Sarin’s red, shiny stem thrusting erotically in and out of Brigit. Would he one day appear so willing, he asked himself, feeling weak and trembling at the thought. He would betray himself and all he believed in if he willingly submitted to Sarin. Yet a moment ago he gained immense pleasure from the caresses of a man he professed to hate. Alone and enslaved, his life was crumbling around him as dark and light began to merge into one.

  He heard Brigit moan softly and Sarin grunt with pleasure as their thrashing movements became more frantic. She was bent low over the chair, her bottom high in the air. Tarn saw her hand slide under the chair arm and slip between her thighs. She fingered her sex, rubbing her nubbin while Sarin’s cock still slid smoothly in and out of her nether mouth. Tarn was transfixed, unable to tear his gaze away as Brigit and Sarin climaxed at the same time.

  As Sarin gave a satisfied sigh and withdrew from Brigit, Tarn lowered his eyes, not wanting Sarin to know how aroused he’d been while watching the hasty coupling.

  Dismissing Brigit with a casual wave of his hand, Sarin moved to address Tarn with a voice full of soft menace. ‘Now that you’ve demonstrated your true feelings, and the desires you’ve so far kept hidden, I can reassess our relationship and decide what will happen next.’

  Lamps, set in the interlaced branches of lemon trees, bathed Sarin’s private gardens in a soft light. The evening was warm, but still pleasantly cool after the oppressive heat of the day. Nearby, a caged nightingale sang sweetly.

  Time flowed like a never-ending stream in the palace, one day of indolent pleasure merging into another. The constant luxury, the exotic food and the sensuality of Sarin’s lovemaking, had captivated Rianna. She still thought of Tarn often, her remembrance tinged with guilt. So far she had done nothing to help him, and by willingly indulging in the erotic excesses Sarin offered her, she had betrayed her one true love. But there was no way she could escape the luxury, no way to avoid the constant pleasuring of her senses.

  She had been married to Sarin for almost three weeks, and in that time she had changed. Modesty no longer concerned her, and she felt comfortable in the scanty provocative garments she was obliged to wear. Also, she had learnt that gratification could be gained in many different ways. In the last few days she had been happy to welcome Yasmin in her bed along with Sarin.

  Tonight, she lay naked on a soft blanket in the lamp-lit garden, Sarin’s head resting on her stomach, while she watched Yasmin pleasure him with her mouth. The vision of Yasmin’s full, red lips sliding up and down Sarin’s engorged shaft, and the soft sucking sounds, were deeply erotic and infinitely arousing.

  Rianna bent forward and ran the tip of her tongue over Sarin’s mouth, kissing him with passion. He returned the kiss, before turning his head to lick her full breast. His lips closed around her nipple. She gave a faint moan as he sucked the teat, pulling at the sensitive nubbin. Rianna’s body was becoming conditioned to accept a constant diet of carnal pleasure. She thought about it all the time, constantly craving Sarin’s touch and eagerly joining him in his chamber at night. Often she dreamt of their lovemaking, but always in the background was Tarn, staring reproachfully at his lost love.

  She closed her eyes, enmeshed in her erotic daydreams. Her belly contracted as Sarin sucked harder, digging his teeth teasingly into her nipples. But as she heard the unexpected sound of movement, her eyes flew open.

  ‘Master.’ Niska knelt on the grass in front of Sarin, her head bowed.

  He frowned at the intrusion, but didn’t chastise her. ‘Don’t stop, Yasmin,’ he said harshly, as Yasmin ceased her ministrations.

  Yasmin returned to her task, expertly pulling his entire shaft into her mouth. Sarin closed his eyes and gave himself up to the pleasure. As his climax came he pushed Yasmin’s face hard against his pelvis and groaned loudly.

  There was a short silence, punctuated by the sound of Sarin’s heavy breathing. He let go of Yasmin and smiled at her with unusual warmth. ‘Leave now, Yasmin. But not you, Rianna,’ he added, before looking coldly at Niska. ‘What do you want of me?’

  ‘I come to beg your forgiveness, my lord.’

  Niska wore a provocative breast harness made of finely wrought silver that supported her bosom but left her silver-painted nipples exposed. A belt made of looped silver chains encircled her waist, the lower chain just reaching her naked pubis. She was dressed as a supplicant, her wrists bound at the front with ropes of white silk.

  ‘You have yet to be punished.’ Sarin took hold of the diamond attached to Niska’s nipple and tugged on it, stretching the flesh so hard she winced in pain.

  Niska bit her lip, enduring the discomfort. ‘I’ve been waiting for you to decide my punishment,’ she said softly.

  Sarin let go of the diamond. ‘I’ve stayed away from your chambers for nigh on three weeks. Do you consider that punishment enough, Niska?’

  Niska cast a sly glance at Rianna, then looked back at Sarin. ‘Only you can decide that, my master.’

  ‘As Rianna was wronged, perhaps I should let her decide.’ He smiled at Rianna. ‘How say you, my dear?’

  ‘I leave it in your hands, Sarin,’ she replied, fighting the need to cover her nakedness in front of Niska.

  ‘Then I’ll let you administer the chastisement.’ He beckoned to one of the ever-present, stony-faced Nubian slaves. ‘Fetch the red leather harness,’ he commanded.

  The Nubian ran swiftly off, returning only moments later with one of the strangest articles Rianna had ever seen. Two carved objects, made to resemble male organs in every detail, were joined at their bases by a replica of a scrotum. The two phalluses were bent upwards at a curved angle, and one had a leather harness at its base as though it was to be worn.

  Rianna coloured in surprise, imagining the contraption fitted to her groin. One phallus would nestle deep inside her, while the other would stand stiffly out, a lewd representation of an erect penis. She watched nervously as the Nubian placed the magnificent double dildo at Sarin’s side.

  ‘Put it on, Riann
a. You can punish Niska and pleasure yourself at the same time,’ Sarin said with a smile.

  ‘No,’ she shook her head. ‘I cannot do this, Sarin, not with Niska.’ Rianna wasn’t altogether repulsed by the object. Perhaps in the midst of desire she would be prepared to slip on the harness and play erotic games with Yasmin. But not here in the garden, in front of Sarin and his Nubians, and certainly not with Niska.

  ‘Your shyness becomes you,’ Sarin said indulgently. ‘Cast aside that now, my sweet. It would please me to watch as you do this. And would be a fitting retribution for Niska’s brutality at your deflowerment. I honour you, Rianna, by allowing you to exact such a punishment on Niska.’

  Rianna rose to her knees, and pulled her silk robe in front of her to cover her nakedness. ‘I’m sorry I cannot do this. Please do not ask me.’

  ‘I do not ask. I order,’ Sarin replied curtly.

  ‘Still I cannot comply,’ Rianna countered, her lips set in a defiant line. ‘I’m your wife, Sarin, not some pleasure slave.’

  ‘You are anything I say you are,’ he growled, suddenly angry. Ripping the robe from her hands, he tossed it aside. ‘Put the harness on, Rianna, and penetrate Niska. Despite your initial reluctance, you’ll find it a uniquely pleasurable experience. I think such a punishment most fitting.’

  ‘Look at her, Sarin, she wants me to do it. It will be no punishment,’ Rianna flared, having watched Niska’s response when she’d seen the harness. All the resentment Rianna’s indolent life had suppressed came to the fore. ‘I will not, and that’s an end to it!’

  ‘End to it,’ he growled, cruelly pinching and twisting her left nipple.

  ‘That hurts.’ Rianna pushed him away.

  She paled as Sarin’s face contorted in fury. ‘You dare lay a hand on me, woman,’ he said through clenched teeth. ‘Hold her down,’ he ordered the Nubians.

  The two huge slaves grabbed Rianna, one holding her arms, one her feet, as she was pinned face down on the rug. At first she was more angry than terrified, until she felt the first stinging pain across her buttocks. She gave a loud gasp of anguished surprise, hardly able to believe this was happening.

  Rianna caught sight of the thin leather riding crop in Sarin’s hand before he hit her again. The pain was worse, sharp and fierce. It sent a fiery heat through her buttocks and down into her groin. She pressed her face to the blanket, holding back her angry sobs, filled with a sudden, quite vicious hatred of Sarin. How dare he treat her like this; she was his wife.

  Her buttocks grew hot, the skin stinging painfully as Sarin continued to abuse her already inflamed flesh. He held her buttocks apart for one blow and flicked the tip of the crop against her exposed nether mouth. Unbelievably, despite the humiliating agony, she felt a sudden, spiked warmth fill her belly. It was as if the beating were arousing her senses, and the heat increased to a dull, pleasurable ache that sang enticingly through her veins.

  She remembered witnessing Tarn’s arousal when he had been similarly abused. The punishment, the pain she was enduring, and her steadily mounting desire, caused her to feel at one with her lost love. Like Tarn, she fought the unwanted sensations, knowing that if she gave in to the spiked pleasure she would be surrendering her soul to Sarin.

  Rianna caught her breath as she was forced to endure one last sharp, agonising blow. Tossing the riding crop aside, Sarin ordered the Nubians away and crouched between Rianna’s open thighs. He entered her with one powerful lunge that filled her completely, his cock head venturing so deep it pressed against the neck of her womb. Despite herself, Rianna’s passions were excited. She wanted Sarin, she welcomed his pounding thrusts, but there was no one she hated more at this moment in time.

  As he pressed his body against hers, she lifted her sore, reddened buttocks, relishing the slippery wetness as the shaft of Sarin’s cock caressed the walls of her vagina. Fiery heat speared her belly, consuming her in a whirlpool of lust as Sarin drove into her again and again. She felt him push the heavy fall of her hair aside to kiss her neck while he continued to brutally pound his body against hers.

  She shuddered as her climax came, washing over her in a tumultuous wave of bliss that merged with the glowing pain in her buttocks, turning into a kaleidoscope of painful pleasure. As her vagina pulsed around Sarin’s cock shaft, he trembled, and mouthed the nape of her neck, whispering her name as his own orgasm consumed him.

  Silently he rolled off her, and pulled her to her feet. Rianna could not bring herself to look at him. If she did she knew she would see no sign of sorrow or regret. He had enjoyed punishing and then pleasuring her.

  Rianna swallowed hard and brushed the unwanted tears from her cheeks. She glanced down at the double phallus still lying on the ground in front of Niska, vowing that she would never use it, no matter how many times Sarin punished her. Kitara’s warrior blood ran in her veins, and Rianna had never felt that as strongly as she did now.

  Niska appeared to have enjoyed Rianna’s humiliation. ‘Stupid bitch,’ she mouthed while Sarin wasn’t looking.

  Rianna ignored Niska and turned to glare proudly at Sarin, determined not to appear cowed. ‘I beg leave to depart,’ she said coldly.

  Sarin smiled. ‘Lesand told me that you were strong and self-willed. I never quite believed him until now,’ he said, appearing pleased that she’d dared to refuse him. ‘I admire that strength, Rianna. Once you’ve come to accept that I will always be in command, you’ll become a fitting wife and consort.’

  It was then that Rianna realised he was using her for his pleasure, just as he did every other concubine in his seraglio. Sarin considered her a challenge, but he would never truly care for her as a husband should his wife. She meant no more to him than any other pleasure slave in the palace; she existed only to serve him and do his bidding.

  Tarn strode briskly across Sarin’s private garden. It was good to be in the open air. He felt the sun on his back, and the soft breeze brush his long hair. For once he felt at peace, at least for a brief, fanciful moment.

  Tarn was only required to wear his harness for a few hours at a time now, in the privacy of his room, or Sarin’s pleasure vault. The rest of his day was spent in more normal pursuits. Sarin had deemed it necessary for Tarn to take regular exercise to keep his body in shape, his muscles taut and toned. Afterwards, he spent hours in the bath house being scrubbed, massaged and oiled, kept in the peak of physical condition so that he could be beautiful for Sarin.

  Now that Sarin had decided Tarn could be trusted a little, his hands had been freed from his chains, although the slave collar remained, as did the wrist and ankle bracelets so that he could be restrained at any time. In Sarin’s private quarters, Tarn had not been allowed clothing. Once he had been given permission to move about certain areas of the palace, Tarn had been given a thin muslin breechclout, and short, leather skirt to wear. The garments were similar to those worn by the other male slaves, and designed to accentuate his muscular physique. Some of the other slaves had their intimate body parts pierced, but so far Tarn had escaped that form of humiliation.

  Tarn had yet to see Rianna. He had no wish for her to discover his degradation, and yet he longed to lay eyes upon her again. Of late, he had attended a number of Sarin’s private entertainments. Having spent a number of years at court, he was well-used to the licentious excesses, but as a guest who could choose his pleasures wisely and not as a slave who was expected to do whatever was asked of him. Thankfully, so far Sarin declined to share him with any of his courtiers. Those whom Tarn had once considered friends often chose not to notice him. Others glared at him accusingly, but even worse were the few who threw sad pitying glances in his direction when he passed.

  Tarn did his best to ignore all those around him. His former life was over; his existence now revolved around Sarin and his visits to his master’s pleasure vault.

  Sarin appeared to be in no great hurry to vanquish Tarn. He worked on him slowly, breaking him like a horse to a saddle, not forcing him to accept the ultimate h
umiliation until the time was right. Sarin seemed convinced that eventually Tarn would submit all too willingly, but Tarn could not allow himself to think that was even remotely possible.

  However, he looked upon his times in Sarin’s vault with mixed emotions. Female slaves were often brought to pleasure him in front of Sarin. Sometimes Tarn was allowed his release, but often he was not. If he didn’t perform to Sarin’s satisfaction, he was punished. Sarin enjoyed inflicting pain, but he was subtle with his chastisements, and Tarn found himself experiencing the familiar spiked pleasure he’d first discovered during the beating he’d been given on the journey to Percheron.

  Tarn knew that Sarin was slowly winning the battle with his senses. Layers of reluctance were slowly being peeled away, but Tarn’s true needs and feelings were hidden deep inside him. It was a place that so far Sarin had failed to touch, but once he had come frighteningly close.

  A few days ago, Sarin had ordered Tarn to fall to his knees and pleasure his master with his hands and mouth. Tarn had refused. Surprisingly, Sarin had not threatened to hurt Cador; instead he punished Tarn with a tender caressing reverence that left him aroused and wanting. Sarin then stroked and teased Tarn’s helpless flesh, until Tarn could not find the strength to resist his lustful desires, reaching the point where he’d closed his eyes and welcomed the feel of Sarin’s mouth and hands on his body. When his climax came, in a sudden rush of illicit pleasure, Tarn was filled with confused self-loathing.

  Sarin now knew how much Tarn feared the dark desires that tainted his soul. With that knowledge came an awesome power. When Tarn faced the ultimate challenge, he had to accept the terrifying possibility that he would lose and be forced to surrender to Sarin.

  As Tarn entered Sarin’s private chambers, he smelt the familiar perfume that always made him think of Rianna. A number of the concubines used the same jasmine-based scent. He sniffed and smiled, reminded painfully of his lost love. What he did not expect was to find her standing in Sarin’s bedchamber.