“Use your mouth.”
With hands that shook from pure want, she clasped his upright shaft and rinsed him. She held his cock steady as she rimmed its fat head, lubricating it with her saliva. As she sucked him into her mouth, his abdomen contracted and he grunted a softly murmured expletive that she did not quite catch. His large hand tightened in her hair, but he didn’t force her down onto his cock, as she had feared. Rather, his tight grip on her hair stabilized her head and set a rhythm to her sucking pulls. His flesh tasted clean. His satin skin filled her mouth completely, pressing her lips against her teeth. There was no way she could take the whole length of him and she added her hands to her stroking. His hand held her firmly down and with a choked off moan, he came, flooding her mouth. She swallowed convulsively. He tasted bitter and salty and...delicious.
He held her there for a few moments, and then ran his fingers through her hair in a gentle caress, pulling her away from his receding organ and pressing her head to his thigh. Finally, he released her entirely. He sat back into the warm water and closed his eyes. “Go to bed, Steffania. It’s been a hard day. I’ll join you shortly.”
Water ran down her legs onto the floor as she climbed out of the tub, dried her body and walked nude to their bedroom. She removed the remains of her makeup and the comm-disc. She climbed into the luxury of the huge bed and waited for him, frustrated and resentful. Her body ached with a firestorm of unreleased arousal but she could do nothing about it. Ram could walk into the bedroom at any moment, and she didn’t want to reveal her anguished need for the release only he could give her; no mere hand or tool could replace what she had seen but a moment before. But it had been a long day and fatigue finally claimed her.
~ ~ ~
Steffania awoke to a soft grey morning. Ram’s hand gently played with her left nipple ring, sliding the dainty gryphon charm back and forth on the delicate circlet of precious metal. The previous night’s arousal returned with vicious heat when his fingers gently rolled and pinched the hard pink bud of her nipple. She lay on her back with Ram’s weight pinning her right side, his heavy thigh swung across her pubic bone and his torso, weighing down her right shoulder. A hot, hard erection branded her abdomen. The sensation of being held down and controlled just fucking does it for me. The comm-disc gleamed on the low table near the bed. Good. Don’t want to share that thought.
She closed her eyes again and surrendered to the want building between her thighs. If she could have moved Ram’s heavy weight pinning her thighs together in the deep down of the featherbed, she would have opened her legs in wanton invitation. Desperation tinted her need for Ramsey. Honesty forced her to admit that the sense of obligation and duty to Verdantia and Ari DeTano that figured so prominently in her decision to participate in this charade played no part in her physical response to this man. She was doing this for her own gratification. God help me.
His right hand abandoned its play at her breast and drew delicate circles on her abdomen then meandered in a slow, taunting slide down to her groin. Ram’s knee opened her thighs to make room for sure fingers that ran lightly along the swollen, slick flesh between her legs. One delved gently between the hypersensitive tissues, capturing her moisture, bringing it up to circle her pulsing clit. With a soft moan, Steffania opened wider. Ram’s face nestled into the crux of her neck. He began to place soft kisses up the side of her neck to her ear.
“You will accompany me to the training ground and socialize with the other slaaf. Find out anything you can about Veacon Narr and Lady DeAlbero. When was the last time anyone saw her with him? We need any rumor.” The harsh reality of his whispered words stripped the sexual haze from her mind but did nothing to quiet the clamor of her body.
“What?” She tried to sit up. His strong hand wrapped her neck and he shoved her back down and then covered her with his body. His hard cock slid into the warm crevice of her slick folds and teased her with the promise of its thickness.
“Vidcorders, remember,” he whispered against her lips. “Submit, woman.” Then his mouth closed on hers, biting and sucking at her lips, claiming her air, stealing the thoughts from her mind. She rose up, welcoming his kiss, wrapping her arms around him, pressing him to her with hands that clawed at the muscles of his back. Fuck duty. I want this man. She didn’t resurface from submersion in his kiss until cold air washed her front. Her eyes blinked open. Kneeling between her legs, Ramsey grinned down at her, rubbing a hand up and down his fierce arousal.
“Up with you, wench. We have a busy day ahead.”
“But, but,” she stammered. “Aren’t you going to – aren’t we going to –” Steffania didn’t care how needy she sounded. Damn it all, man. You can’t leave me like this!
“I fight better when I’m a little ‘on edge’, sweetheart. Frustration makes me mean.”
Well, it sure as hell doesn’t improve my disposition. Steffania tried to wipe her angry dissatisfaction from her face but she was sure her attitude slipped out.
Ramsey lifted a lip in a humorless smile. “Get dressed and find me something to eat. Oh, and Steffania, don’t forget to wear all your jewels.” He leaned forward as if to kiss her jaw and whispered, “I’d hate to miss anything going on in that lovely mind of yours.”
Chapter Four
A chauffeured air-car took them the short, ten-minute trip to the training center. The gladiatorial training grounds adjoined the Dominion Games’ coliseum and consisted of multiple, sand-floored, rings. Hallways of raw stone columns still carrying the mark of the stonecutter circled the entire complex. The halls’ deep shadows and ornate wall fountains offered the gladiators and the visitors the only respite from the glare of light and oppressive heat on the ground level. Steffania’s eyes wandered, absorbing another expensive, expansive version of ancient, old-Earth Rome. Someone is caught up in their fantasy.
Shaded by a gaudy red canopy, she sat apart from the other slaaf in the second-level visitors’ gallery and looked down on the entire scene. A steady breeze billowed the canopy’s stiff, opaque material, making a soft whoomp, whoomp, but otherwise the only sounds were the clashing ring of steel and the animal grunts of effort from fighters below. In spite of the breeze, Steffania could feel perspiration pool between her breasts. Why doesn’t this place have environmental control? But she supposed the lack of modern amenities was all part of the attempted ‘realism’. Figures. My first time off Verdantia in years and I’m stuck in a flawlessly accurate rendition of ancient Earth.
Steffania effortlessly picked out Ram as he engaged in mock battles with a diverse variety of contestants – some more humanoid than others. The archaic weapons seemed an extension of his body, his strikes and feints assured and practiced. During the Haarb wars, Steffania had fought beside Ramsey and knew him to be a supreme killer, but she’d never had the leisure to observe him until now. She’d been engaged in a similar life-or-death battle herself. When you fight for your life, it tends to give you tunnel vision. Time passed unnoticed as she became lost in fascinated scrutiny of an apex predator. Like the great silver megaton sharks in the seething oceans of Aquarion, everyone was Ramsey’s victim but Ramsey was no one’s prey. The sun had shifted the shadows considerably when a woman’s voice broke her reverie.
“Your master is mentioned frequently by the vidcasters. They say he is a favorite in the games.” The gentle voice of a lovely brunette with near-violet eyes broke the quiet in the viewing box. Steffania hadn’t wanted to seem pushy, so other than smiling at the women around her when she first entered, she had kept to herself, hoping their curiosity about a stranger would prompt them to make the initial contact. “You belong to Dominus DeKieran? Yes? The beautiful man with the eyes of a wolf?”
Steffania snarled inwardly. I ‘belong’ to no man. “Yes.” She nodded, forcing a smile. “That is one way to describe him. And who is your master?”
A slender hand pointed out a large, brutish male, swinging a heavy blade at a much smaller opponent. “There, Dominus Mestrios.”
&n
bsp; “My name is Steffania.” She smiled warmly at the lovely young woman. “What is yours?”
“They call me Pansy. Are you here only for the games?”
“Yes, this is our first time to this planet. Its customs are…intriguing.”
Steffania struggled to “chat” with Pansy, racking her brain for topics of discussion. How in the hell do women spend their lives talking of mindless drivel? Give me an invasion to plan any day. Finally, she introduced the only subject in which she had any real interest. “Do you know what sorts of prizes go to the winner of the games?”
“Oh, the usual things – money, a lucrative contract for a fight-vid, popularity on the celeb-circuit for a while.” Pansy shrugged. “Slaafs are told little of our dominae’s duties and privileges. I have no knowledge of what’s involved in the contracts beyond what I see broadcast in the strictly edited, info-vids that play on the only channel deemed suitable for slaafs.”
“I have heard the parties given for the winner continue for days. Has your dominus ever gone? Are the parties as wild as they say?” Steffania looked at the other woman expectantly.
“No. I have never gone. I have never wanted to go. Dominus Narr always gives the winner’s celebration on his estate. No slaaf would ever willingly go there.” Pansy shuddered delicately. “Of course, slaafs go where our dominae require we go.”
“Dominus Veacon Narr? Oh, but that would be wonderful,” Steffania gushed. “I might be able to see my friend, Alessa. Do you know of her? Alessa DeAlbero?”
The other woman looked at her with an unfriendly expression and stood. “It was a pleasure speaking with you, Steffania. I see a close friend of mine, please excuse me.”
And so began one of the most frustrating days in Steffania’s memory. Each time she brought up the name, Veacon Narr, conversation ceased. Whomever she spoke with simply stood and moved away. When Ram came for her that evening, he found her sitting alone. He beckoned her to his side with a nod.
“Back to the villa, my dove.” Ram ushered her toward a waiting cab.
Climbing in, Steffania again sat near his feet. {I hope your day was more productive than mine.}
Ram looked down at her and idly played with her hair, running his hands through its thick lengths. “When I came for you, you sat alone. Are the other women unfriendly?” {Were you able to find out anything?}
Steffania moved into his hand without thought, finding pleasure in his caress. “They are friendly enough.” {Every time I mentioned Veacon Narr or Alessa DeAlbero, all conversation stopped. By the end of the day, no one would come near me.}
Ram grunted. “You will see them again tomorrow. Try not to be so prickly.” He leaned back into the soft upholstery of the cab and groaned. “It has been a while since I practiced eight hours straight. I will require some pampering this evening.”
In the privacy of their cab, Steffania glared at him. {Prickly? Pampering? Don’t push your luck, DeKieran.}
He just grinned and closed his eyes as his head lolled back into the headrest.
When they reached the villa, Ram strolled in and went immediately to the bedroom. “Run a bath for me, Steffania, and then bring me something to eat.”
She lowered her head in acknowledgment. “As you wish.” {My lord and master.}
Even through the comm-disc, his response held reprimand. {And don’t forget it for even one moment.}
Steffania carried a platter heaped with savory, meat-filled pastries and slices of fresh fruits into the bath and placed it on the wide edge of the small bathing pool. A small army of servants must service these villas, evidenced by the always freshly prepared food in the hot and cold keeping boxes in the kitchen and the immaculately clean master bedroom and bath furnished with crisp linens and fluffy towels. When she returned a few minutes later with two flagons, one of water and one of wine, Ram languished in the bath. He lay back against the edge, his eyes closed. He looked utterly spent.
“Do you want me to wash you?” It came as a surprise to her, but she was willing to perform this service. She’d spent all day teased by a low hum of sexual arousal. She wanted him still. Sexual need, that is all it is. At the end of this mission, they would go their separate ways.
His eyes opened and Ram regarded her seriously. “Yes.”
She felt his eyes on her as she unpinned her skirt, slipped the thong down her legs and tied her hair on the top of her head. He offered her a hand as she stepped into the bath water. For the next few minutes, his eyes never left her as she slid a soapy sponge over his hard body. When she finished, the shaft between his legs had risen, fiercely erect.
His fingers traced her lips. “You are truly exquisite.”
Steffania dropped her eyes, made shy by his sincere compliment, and whispered, “Thank you.” She promptly hated the warm, womanly surrender Ramsey’s comment inspired and lifted her jaw, meeting his gaze squarely.
Ram picked up a meat pastry and consumed it in one bite, chewing slowly, thoughtfully, his eyes dwelling on her with a tactile presence. Her nipples hardened as his eyes lingered on her breasts and gooseflesh stood the hairs on her arms straight as if his hot gaze stroked her physically. His stormcloud-gray gaze rose to her lips and stayed there as she dampened them with the pink tip of her tongue. With languid fluidity, he selected a pastry and offered it to her, holding it to her mouth as she neatly bit into it. He teased her lower lip with a piece of soft, fleshy melon and watched intently as she licked off the juice before consuming the fruit, and so it went. They ate their meal in a living silence of carnal promise. She found herself inhaling in deep draws and exhaling in sharp pants. Edgy punches of foreboding roiled ever higher in her the longer Ramsey’s wordless observation continued.
“Go to the bedroom and get on the bed. Kneel. No clothes.”
Steffania glanced at Ram, uneasy. {What are you going to do?}
{Don’t question me. Just obey.}
She did as he ordered, her heart pounding in her throat. When he walked through the bedroom door, he carried multiple lengths of scarlet rope.
“Kneel down, knees apart, forehead on the bedding. Extend your arms above you, elbows together.”
Ram began at her waist. Each coil around her torso following closely on top of the one below it, he methodically bound her upper body in a rope corset of intricately inter-looped lengths that ended just below her breasts then resumed just above. It took him some time. As each curl of the brightly dyed hemp wrapped her, he placed a knot over her spine and laddered to the next binding above. He entwined her shoulders and upper arms in a web of Gordian complexity. He continued to her elbows, binding her lower arms together in a continual flow of scarlet rope, interspersed with interlocking loops similar to those along her spine, and then finished at her wrists.
When complete, Ram had immobilized her from the waist up, cocooned her in an artistry of scarlet bindings – and she was hopelessly aroused. He had yet to touch her in an overt sexual manner, but waves of wanton sensation flooded her as slowly, precisely, with careful thought, Ram removed her ability to do anything but submit. Ram restrained her upper body, from waist to wrists, leaving her lower body open for whatever sexual use he desired. The unspoken craving she had never voiced bloomed into reality. Steffania relaxed into the firm embrace of the roping and gave up all control. She surrendered to the simplicity of pleasing Ramsey.
“You should see yourself, my sweet slaaf. You are a carnal fantasy bound in scarlet hemp. I won’t even attempt to resist.”
Ram’s deep, husky voice tickled her ear and his weight bore down briefly against her back. She felt the press of his hard thighs against her buttocks and his hands lifted her hips. His knees spread hers wide, opening her to him completely. The velvet-covered strength of his erection probed at her slick core. He surged into her forcefully, pulling her hips to his, and then stilled when he had breached her completely.
“I knew I would find you wet.”
A small mewl of gratification left her mouth. The sensation of his hea
vy cock filling her defied description. The knowledge that he controlled her absolutely sent her arousal rocketing into the stratosphere. She panted in shallow breaths. The roping hugging her ribs and abdomen prevented anything more. The slick, stretching slide of his cock shuttling back and forth seemed to last an eternity. She lost herself in time. There had never been anything but the penetrating dominance of a male organ opening her, using her, inflaming her. Each heavy surge brought her to the edge of climax. The force of his hips slamming into hers rubbed her nipples against the bedding in a blaze of added sensation. Any small stimulation to her clit would finish her. After the tease of the last two days, Steffania craved that culmination with an unusual desperation. But even more than the physical pleasure, she craved the knowledge she had pleased Ramsey. I’m one sick puppy.
Ram grunted with each slam into her, his fingers biting into the flesh of her hips. She must have made some needy sound. “Do you want to come, sweetheart?” he rasped.
“If it pleases you. Oh, god, yes,” she panted.
“It does please me.” One hand slipped forward and found the small bundle of nerves at the apex of her sex. His careful fingering tripped her over, and she shattered into a million brilliant pieces. The elegant bedding muffled her sobs of completion.
She regained awareness as Ram pulled his softening cock from her in a slow flood of cum and her own fluids. She made an involuntary sound of protest. His low, masculine chuckle vibrated in her ear.
“I agree, but I must get you out of these bindings. You have been in them long enough. Longer and you risk injury.” A slow hand caressed her hair. “That is not permissible.”
Steffania lay quiescent while Ram unwound his artistry. The tracks of the rope marked her skin in an interesting pattern of short, parallel, diagonal lines.
{Who taught you to do that?} She was finally free enough to look up at him.
A dark eyebrow arched but his glance held good humor. {You are the perfect subject for téad de ghrásta. I’m surprised you are new to it.}
Hers To Cherish (Verdantia Book 3) Page 4