‘It’s knotted and tangled. I’ve had little time to tend it on our journey,’ Rianna replied. When they had paused to rest, if they weren’t eating or sleeping, she and Tarn had been making love.
‘I’ll try not to hurt.’ Danara unpinned the red-gold locks. Gently, she began to run a wide-toothed ivory comb through the tangled strands.
‘Has Tarn been made comfortable?’ Rianna asked, wincing as the comb caught on a knot.
‘I did not lie,’ Danara gently chided. ‘He’s been given one of our best chambers and a nourishing meal. By now he’s most likely asleep.’
‘Life had been hard for him of late,’ Rianna confessed.
‘We heard he was captured by Lord Sarin’s troops after his rebellion failed. I was surprised to discover he was still alive. We have heard much of Lord Sarin’s cruelty and excesses. It is said that he keeps both male and female slaves to pander to his strange desires. Marriage to such a man could not have been easy. If you ever feel the need to talk, I will be happy to listen.’
‘Some time, perhaps.’ Rianna felt a need to unburden her soul. If Danara learnt more about what Sarin had done to her and Tarn, she might be more sympathetic to their plight. She intended to ask Danara to grant them safe passage through Freygard, when the time was right. ‘Not tonight. The pain is too fresh in my mind.’
‘I understand,’ Danara said gently, as she fastened Rianna’s hair at the nape of her neck with a thin ribbon.
‘I’m weary. I should rest now,’ Rianna said sleepily.
‘First, I have a gift for you.’ Danara took a small wooden box from the bedside table and handed it to Rianna. ‘All our warriors are given these when they reach maturity.’
Curiously, Rianna lifted the lid of the box. Initially she thought the pair of exquisitely wrought silver clamps with dangling chains, tipped by tear-shaped sapphires, were meant to be worn on her ears. She looked up at Danara, who smiled and pushed aside the front of her robe to reveal one perfect breast. Her nipple was teased into a firm peak. Attached to the tiny cone was a similar silver clamp, the chains tipped by sparkling pink stones.
‘I never imagined . . .’ Rianna murmured, wondering what it would feel like to have her nipples constantly compressed by the snug clamps.
‘These are only worn in private, when we are with those closest to us,’ Danara explained. ‘Here,’ she said as she picked up one of the clamps. ‘Let me fit it for you. Kitara had some almost exactly like these on her sixteenth birthday.’
She pushed the towel away from Rianna’s breasts and teased one pert, rosy nipple between her finger and thumb until it hardened. Danara carefully attached the clamp, then turned to do the same to Rianna’s other nipple.
‘It feels strange.’ The pinching caress of the clamps imprisoning her nipples caused a warmth to dart through Rianna’s breasts. Her cheeks flushed and her breathing quickened as she looked down at her decorated teats.
‘They look so pretty,’ Danara said in a low, husky voice. ‘You’re beautiful, Rianna. So like my beloved Kitara.’
‘What do you want of me?’ Rianna asked breathlessly as Danara gently pulled down her towel. Danara’s eyes roved the soft curve of Rianna’s belly and the denuded mound of her sex.
‘What every other warrior would want if they saw you like this,’ Danara purred hungrily. ‘To give you pleasure. To show you what sweet bliss life here has to offer you.’
‘I know what it’s like to lie with a woman,’ Rianna confessed as Danara’s hands glided tenderly over each curve and hollow of her body, setting her nerve endings on fire. Rianna did not have the strength to resist this gentle seduction. Curiosity about her heritage drove her onwards. Perhaps the need for this was in her blood?
‘Maybe so, but you’ve never been pleasured by one of your sisterhood.’ Danara touched Rianna’s naked sex. ‘Without its fleece your pudenda looks so innocent, the pretty pouting lips so very tempting.’
‘Sometimes one of the concubines would join Sarin and I in bed. My husband liked to watch us pleasuring each other. When he became sufficiently aroused, he would pull us apart and insist we pleasure him instead.’
‘How cruel,’ said Danara in disgust. ‘I cannot imagine how terrible it must have been to be forced to pleasure a man, and to submit to all his vile demands on your flesh.’ She shivered. ‘How you must have suffered. Now lie back, relax. Let me show you what bliss we can share.’
‘But, Danara,’ Rianna protested.
‘Hush, my sweet,’ Danara said, as she tugged at the cluster of chains attached to one of Rianna’s nipples. The pulling sensation caused a responsive tug deep in the pit of Rianna’s belly.
‘So tight,’ Rianna gasped.
Danara pushed her back on to the pillows. ‘My only desire is to please you,’ she murmured. Her fingers stroked the sensitive skin of Rianna’s inner thigh, then drifted higher to brush the swollen lips of her vulva. ‘See how eagerly your body welcomes me.’
She squeezed one of Rianna’s breasts, close to the nipple, increasing the pressure on the imprisoned teat. The aching bliss magnified the moist heat between Rianna’s thighs. Then Danara slipped her fingers between Rianna’s labial lips and tenderly stroked the damp cleft. ‘Is that not better?’ she whispered.
‘Yes,’ Rianna groaned, as Danara leant forward to pull an imprisoned nipple into her mouth.
She sucked hard, drawing the soft flesh deeper, increasing the pulling and pinching sensations until Rianna whimpered. The sweetly tearing agony was sending her wild with lust. Her sex felt molten, like liquid fire. She lifted her hips as Danara stroked and teased the root of her pleasure bud. Grasping it between her fingers, Danara eased the tiny hood backwards and forwards, putting constant friction on the sensitive pearl beneath. By now Rianna was desperately craving her release.
‘Danara,’ she murmured, restlessly moving her hips.
‘My sweet.’ Danara slid her bunched fingers into Rianna’s vagina to caress the silken walls. As she increased the pace and depth of her thrusts, she sucked on Rianna’s breast and rubbed her pleasure bud with the pad of her thumb.
Rianna’s arousal began to peak as pain and pleasure merged into one. She closed her eyes, as an image of Tarn, naked and aroused, invaded her fevered mind. Now it was his lips and hands passionately caressing her flesh.
‘Tarn,’ she gasped, as the powerful climax washed over her.
Tarn awoke with a start as someone touched his arm. ‘What?’ he growled, jumping to his feet, pulling the sheet with him to cover his nakedness.
‘I’ve brought you food.’ The middle-aged man backed fearfully away from Tarn. ‘Milk and honey cakes.’
‘Milk?’ Tarn queried with a grimace, as he glanced at the platter left beside his bed. ‘That’s for babes and small children.’
‘Not here,’ the man replied. ‘We only have ale and wine on special occasions.’
‘Where are my clothes?’ Tarn asked. He’d slept well and felt surprisingly refreshed.
The man pointed to a blue tunic on a nearby chair. ‘The mistress had them taken away to be washed. Eat, then I’ll be back to take you to the stables.’
‘I won’t leave without my own clothes,’ Tarn insisted. ‘I can’t travel in a garment like that.’ The tunic appeared to be similar to the one the middle-aged man wore. His garment was sleeveless and barely reached his mid-thigh, revealing a pair of scrawny, hairy legs.
‘Travel?’ the man scoffed. ‘You’re not going anywhere. You’re to work in the stables. The mistress says only light duties at present.’ He looked Tarn up and down, noting the handsome features, the perfect physique. ‘Though I doubt you’ll have to work there for long. The mistress has yet to see you. When she does she’ll probably insist you spend most of your days and nights in this chamber.’
‘I prefer not to spend all my time in the guest quarters.’ Tarn glanced around the room. It was comfortable enough, but he’d rather work for his keep than laze around here.
The man gave a
harsh laugh. ‘Guest quarters,’ he repeated mockingly. ‘This is a coupling chamber, stranger. You’re no guest, you’re a slave just like all the other men in Freygard.’
‘You’re mistaken,’ Tarn insisted. ‘Queen Danara herself granted us sanctuary. We’ll soon be on our way again.’ Even as Tarn spoke he had the uneasy feeling the man might be right. Tarn hadn’t trusted the Queen from the moment he’d laid eyes on her.
‘Think what you like,’ the man replied. ‘You’ll learn the truth soon enough. You’re not the first stranger to stray over the border by mistake and find himself enslaved. I’ll be back in a moment,’ he added, stepping over to the door. ‘I was told to bring the largest tunic we had. But the mistress didn’t know the size of your feet.’
He stepped outside and shut the heavy wood door. As Tarn heard the bolt slide into place, he strode over to the window and pulled open the shutters, only to be faced with a thick metal grille. Anxiously, he wondered if Rianna was in a similar position. He could only hope that because of her heritage she at least would be safe.
Tarn grinned wryly. So they thought to make him a stud, constantly coupling to help breed children. He supposed some men might enjoy such a fate, but he wanted only two things, his freedom and Rianna. He intended to have both. Tarn had endured enough enforced sexual pleasure to last him a lifetime.
Deciding there was no point in starving, he hungrily consumed the honey cakes, and drank the milk, finding it more palatable than he’d expected. He was prowling the room restlessly, when the door opened again.
‘Aren’t you dressed yet?’ the woman snapped, throwing a pair of sandals at his feet. Her lean, rather gaunt figure was accentuated by her tight-fitting leather trousers and snug leather jerkin.
‘You’re the mistress, I presume?’ Tarn looked her up and down in the same derisive way that she’d just examined him. ‘The woman in charge of the male slaves?’
‘I am,’ she confirmed, her mouth set in a grim line. ‘You’ve yet to learn respect, slave.’
‘Others have tried to subjugate me, but not succeeded,’ Tarn responded confidently. ‘I doubt you’ll have any more success.’
‘Bold words for a mere man,’ she sneered scathingly, as she tapped the thin cane she carried on the palm of her gloved hand. ‘Now dress,’ she paused and smiled coldly. ‘Or do I have to bring some slaves in here to do it for you?’
‘I’ll do as you ask, for the moment.’ Tarn smiled, which only served to irritate her more.
‘Hurry,’ she snapped, stepping forward to slap the cane against his bare arm.
Tarn picked up the tunic with a derisory grimace. He pulled it on over his head, making sure he was adequately covered before he removed the sheet from his waist. The tunic wasn’t Tarn’s idea of proper clothing. He had worn less as Sarin’s slave most of the time, but this felt different. Now his sex hung loose under the ill-fitting tunic, making him feel acutely vulnerable. Because of his height, the tunic was very short. If he bent too far in any direction his manhood would be exposed. Swiftly, he pushed his feet into the sandals, then stared challengingly at the mistress.
‘Follow me,’ she said curtly.
She strode from the room, with Tarn following close behind. Through an open doorway at the end of the short passage, he saw the slaves’ quarters, a long barrack room with pallets ranged along each side. They didn’t go that way, but left the building by the entrance he’d used last night, and walked across the bailey. As far as Tarn could see, there were still only a few warriors guarding the walls. But he did notice a number of men in blue tunics similar to his. Most of them looked cowed and pathetic, barely men at all.
The stables were large and airy, filled with many splendid horses. His and Rianna’s mounts were housed in two stalls side by side. One man was moving bales of hay in a corner, but there was no one else around.
‘You know how to care for horses?’ the mistress asked.
‘Of course, I’m a warrior,’ Tarn replied.
‘You’re a warrior no longer, just a slave,’ she said irritably. ‘The sooner you accept that the better. You may tend the horses. Ensure they are fed and groomed. I’ll inspect your work later. If it’s acceptable, you’ll eat tonight.’ She paused and stared at him sternly. ‘Remember, don’t leave the stables without permission.’
She turned and strode away, Tarn staring at her retreating figure in surprise. He’d expected to have someone watching his every move. The warriors apparently felt no need to guard their slaves too closely. Centuries of oppression must have completely subjugated the men of Freygard.
Tarn knew that he needed to know more about the layout of the castle, and discover where Rianna was before he formed any plan of escape. For the present, he must appear compliant. He was just tending to the needs of a large black stallion, who appeared far more highly strung than the other animals, when he realised that he was being watched by a number of female warriors who had just entered the stables.
‘So you’re the new slave,’ a tall, pretty brunette said, as she moved towards Tarn. He ignored her as he stepped away from the stallion’s stall. ‘You reply when I address you,’ she ordered. She strode forward and slapped his shoulder with the leather crop she carried.
‘I’ve only recently arrived here,’ he said condescendingly.
‘This one is bolder than the other slaves,’ a woman with copper-coloured hair said, appearing amused. ‘And far more handsome.’ She looked Tarn up and down. ‘Very well favoured. Take off your tunic, slave.’
Tarn stared at her coldly. ‘No, I prefer to remain clothed,’ he said stubbornly. There were six women, all heavily armed. Too many for him to handle with ease. ‘Now please excuse me,’ he added. ‘I have work to do.’
As he went to move, the brunette stepped in front of him, barring his way. ‘When you’re told to do something by a woman, you do it without question.’
‘Not where I come from,’ he said challengingly.
‘I am due to visit the coupling chambers,’ the copper-haired vixen said, with a soft laugh. ‘I’m going to tell the slave mistress I want him. This slave is bold and arrogant, his seed will produce fine daughters.’
‘Why wait, Zene?’ asked the brunette, glancing back at her companions. ‘Let’s try him out now and see how bold he truly is.’ She pulled her dagger from her belt and went to cut the shoulder laces of Tarn’s tunic.
‘I think not.’ He grabbed hold of her wrist and twisted the dagger from her grasp.
‘Damn you!’ She reddened in fearful embarrassment.
‘Damn yourself,’ he replied with a defiant grin. ‘I’ll not strip for your pleasure.’
Tarn turned, pulling her with him, to confront the others, holding the dagger loosely in his hand. Unfortunately, the copper-haired Zene was swift on her feet and she managed to dart behind him. He froze as he felt the point of her sword dig threateningly into the small of his back.
‘Drop the dagger. I don’t want to kill you, slave,’ she said with soft menace. ‘I can think of far better punishments.’
As Tarn reluctantly dropped the dagger, the point of the sword moved lower, lifting his tunic to slide menacingly between his legs until it touched the exposed sac of his scrotum. He took an unsteady breath and let go of the brunette. She picked up her dagger and moved angrily away from him.
‘On your knees if you don’t want to lose your manhood,’ Zene ordered.
Tarn nodded. As the sword point moved away from his sex, he sank to his knees. Zene moved closer and grabbed hold of his hair, pulling his head first to one side then the other, so that she could slice through the shoulder laces of his tunic. The blue linen slid downwards to pool around his knees.
‘You’ve chosen well,’ one of the women commented, as they feasted their eyes on his broad, muscular chest, flat belly and generous sex. ‘I’ve never seen such a specimen. His seed will be of the finest quality.’
They pushed him forwards on to the trampled straw, while the tunic was pulled from his l
egs. A hot excitement formed in the pit of Tarn’s stomach, a mixture of fearful lust, tinged with sweet helplessness – much like the emotion Sarin always managed to arouse in him.
‘That’s for your disobedience.’
A sharp, stinging pain seared Tarn’s buttocks. The second blow caught the side of his hip as he rolled swiftly over. Before he could spring to his feet and defend himself, hands caught hold of his wrists and ankles. They were surprisingly strong for women and, despite his best efforts, he was pinned spread-eagled on the prickly straw.
Zene stared down at him with lustful dark eyes as she unbuckled her leather skirt. She wore only a thin scrap of dark fabric between her legs to cover her intimate parts. Jerking it away, she stood over him. Tarn stared at her dark, coppery fleece and the thin red line of her sex. A dull heat flooded his groin and his cock began to harden. Tarn could smell the sweet herbal scent of his oppressors, feel their warm breath on his flesh as they leant over him. He wanted to fight, to resist them, but there was a lustful ache building in his loins, an eagerness that could not be denied. Despite everything, part of him now craved the excitement of enforced sexual submission. Sarin had trained him far too well.
‘His manhood is huge,’ gasped the brunette. She leant forward to examine his sex more closely, pinning his arm down with the weight of her knee. Her hair tantalisingly brushed his chest and the sensitive skin of his armpits.
Zene smiled and crouched down between Tarn’s outstretched thighs. ‘It will grow even larger,’ she said huskily. She ran her fingers slowly along the shaft, watching it twitch and stiffen even more. ‘The touch of hands and lips arouses them just as it does us,’ she laughed. ‘Do you suppose they pleasure each other, like we do?’
‘Do you?’ the brunette asked Tarn as she stroked his muscular chest, pausing briefly to rub and squeeze his nipples.
Tarn didn’t deign to answer, yet the memories of Sarin’s erotic attentions caused two spots of high colour to stain his cheeks.
Savage Surrender Page 24