Master of Desire

by Lacey Alexander

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  thought—hoped—that Ralen would not rule with such severity, and maybe he won’t, but if his reaction to your indiscretion is any indication—well, I might be wrong about that.”

  “You know him well. Do you have any advice for me?” It seemed smart to learn

  anything she could from her new maid—she was thankful Shaena was so forthcoming

  and seemed to wish her well.

  “From this point forward,” the maid said, “I would strive to be as obedient as you can. Even if that obedience is not in your heart, act as though it is. Try to please him until he softens to you.”

  She nodded. “Anything else?”

  “As for sex— well, I cannot say, since I don’t know exactly what he has in store for you, but…try not to fear, Teesia. Try to be open-minded.” Bella’s similar advice came to mind as Shaena leaned slightly forward, bringing their faces close. “It may not be so horrible as he intends for it to be, if you know what I mean.”

  “No, I don’t know what you mean,” Teesia admitted on a sigh of frustration. Here Ralen thought she knew so much about sex, but clearly she remained completely ignorant about it.

  Shaena smiled. “I won’t lie to you, Teesia—I have been in Ralen’s bed before. And things I once thought distasteful are now pleasing to me because of what he taught me there.”

  A short shock of jealousy struck, however insane, followed by more confusion. “Do you still…you and he?” In Caralon, it was within a man’s rights, even a married one, to fuck whomever he wished.

  “Not for a while now,” Shaena said with a reassuring smile. “Except for Banya, Ralen has not been a man to confine himself to one woman, ever. But I know he intends to be faithful within his marriage, so now it would seem that you alone shall reap the pleasures he can impart.”

  Teesia shivered. “Pleasures? Or tortures?”

  The maid cast a knowing smile. “I can only say that perhaps you will find being his

  slave is not such an unsavory thing.”

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  Chapter Three

  Ralen stood, dressed in black, watching as his bride approached. The sun set over the hills behind her, the shock of late daylight making her seem to glow as she crossedthe sand toward him in bare feet. The red silk wedding gown he’d chosen for her clung deliciously to her curves, reminding him of a frock of sea green that had fit her just as well. Wanton she may be, but she was undeniably comely, making his cock perk to attention within his leather pants even now. Her raven hair still fell in a long braiddown her back, a gold cord wound about it to match the thicker sash that bound herfrom just below her breasts to the flare of her hips.

  Bound, he thought. Did the sash make her feel bound? Did it hold her as tightly, mold to her flesh as warmly as he liked to think? Did it somehow give her even theslightest arousal? He narrowed his gaze on her. You’d best hope so, vixen, for there’s much more of that to come.

  Part of him wished things were different —that he’d never recognized her, that some other foolish man had fallen prey to her seductive charms in the hallway, so that he’d never know what a wanton little royal she was. Had he never met her beforeyesterday, he’d be very pleased with the thought of spending the rest of his life with Enrick’s middle daughter.

  And despite her transgressions, a girl so pretty would make any man’s bed awarmer place. Once her punishment was over, she would warm his nicely, too. Once hefelt certain she would never stray from him.

  “You selected a lovely spot for our marriage rites,” she said, smiling up at him as if they were a happy couple in love. “As a child of Myrtell, I love the ocean.”

  He replied dryly, making sure not to look into her crystal blue eyes. “Chosen before I knew who you were, I assure you.”

  The priest behind him let out a sigh of dismay, but Ralen ignored him.

  The ceremony was the drudgery he’d expected, although thankfully short. When the priest asked Teesia if she had a gift for her groom, she held out the bit of cloth he’dnoticed in her hand, fluttering in the sea breeze. Surprised she had anything—given that she’d had only a day’s warning before leaving home—he took it from her, smoothing it in his hands. To my husband. Yours forever, Teesia. The words were embroidered in thread dyed indigo, the edges of the cloth embellished with flowers ofyellow, red and fuchsia. He was surprised to find his heart softened—only slightly—by the feminine offering.

  “For you to carry with you when you must leave home, or if you are called to battle,” she explained. “A remembrance. A token of my affection.”

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  He didn’t plan to meet her sparkling eyes, but once he found her staring up at him so earnestly, he was trapped within her gaze—just for a brief moment before stuffing the cloth into his waistband and turning back to the priest.

  “Have you a gift for your bride?” the older man asked, the breeze ruffling what remained of his grayed hair.

  In response, Ralen reached down to a small leather bag next to him on the sand, extracting the extravagant jewelry he’d commissioned. Before he’d known he was wedding a woman in need of training and punishment, he’d intended the gifts to beseen as merely that—jewelry—figuring he’d reveal their real use sometime later in the marriage when he felt his new wife was ready for a taste of his darker appetites. Teesia, however, would discover the true purpose of the gift tonight.

  “Your wrists,” he said, indicating that she should hold them out. He locked first onethick, bejeweled bracelet around her arm, then the other.

  She gasped. “They’re exquisite, Ralen.”

  “Indeed,” he murmured tightly. But he did like the look of them on her, feeling they made her his in a way mere words spoken by a man of Ares could not. “There’s more,” he said, then stooped to clasp the matching ankle cuffs just above her feet. Valuablestones of red, green, blue and gold glittered beneath the rays of the setting sun.

  He almost felt sorry for the naïve little wanton as they left the beach to return to thefort. She was smiling, happy, thinking somehow that his expensive gifts spelled love, orforgiveness. But soon enough she would understand that nothing had been forgiven, that her indiscretion could only be forgotten through punishment, learning to obey.

  The feast was grand, every person in Charelton there to celebrate his marriage.

  Ralen made an effort to smile through it all, to pretend he was as happy as he’d hopedto be on this night. No one knew his stomach churned with a fear of betrayal—a betrayal that might take place if he didn’t quickly get his vixen bride in line.

  How many men have touched you already, my little wanton? He cast her a sideways glance as they dined on every manner of beast and fowl, fruit and sweets—thenswallowed back his disappointment along with a swig of dark wine, deciding it was of no matter. Soon enough she would know only him. Only him. Nothing else would exist in her world.

  As usual for a wedding of such circumstance, the region’s residents had turned out in their most revealing garments of fur and leather, awaiting the Rituals of Passion they thought were to come. He caught Laene’s eye, where he stood flirting with a girl who wore only two strategically placed strips of thick brown leather, and waved him over.

  “We are dispensing with the Rituals of Passion this evening,” he said when Laene arrived.

  His servant and friend of ten years blinked his shock. “What did you just say?”

  “You heard me. There will be no Rituals of Passion following the feast.”

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  Laene gave his messy blond mane a short shake, his eyes narrowing in confusion. “Then how shall she be made ready, Ralen? She is more than just a virgin, you recall—she’s a royal virgin. You know full well how clueless such girls are kept.”

  Ralen shook his head and spoke with low confidence. “Not this girl. She knowsmore than she’s supposed to, trust me on t
his. She’s ready enough for what I have instore. So carry forth with whatever entertainment was planned and if that does not please the crowd enough, find some willing females who might engage in a seductive dance for them. They expected Rituals of Passion, give them at least some passion,whatever you can devise to excite them.”

  Laene still persisted in questioning him. “It’s unheard of to forsake such tradition, Ralen.”

  Ralen’s reply came in a matter-of-fact tone. “My bride does not need the rituals, myfriend. She needs to be punished. No rituals necessary for that— I can handle it on my

  own.”

  * * * * *

  Teesia flinched as Ralen’s hand latched tight onto hers, his large fingers squeezing her smaller ones. “Let us go, bride.” His piercing look, along with his sharp delivery of the words, stunned her. Who was this man? He’d seemed so content during dinner—happy even— but now, in the time it took to blink, he’d turned cold and harsh once

  more.

  As he pulled her up from her seat, her emotions swung from pleasant to fearful—again. The dress he’d commissioned for her was lovely, as were the extravagant wedding jewels that adorned her, yet his fluctuating moods made it impossible to knowif he had perhaps started to forgive her—or if he simply hated her.

  As he practically dragged her toward the great hall’s exit, she realized the crowd looked stunned to see them departing so soon. “Where are we going?” she asked. The large wooden doors fell shut behind them, leaving her alone with him in a widehallway—much like the one where they’d first met. Even now, she shivered at the memory, her pussy tingling.

  “To begin your training,” he said, never slowing their stride.

  Her chest went hollow. “Sexual training,” she said to clarify.

  “Yes, vixen.” He didn’t bother looking at her.

  “But what about the Maran tiles?” she asked as he pulled her up a wide stone staircase. “Is it not time for me to play the Maran tiles?” Perhaps that explained the crowd’s dismay.

  He drew to a rough halt on the steps, turning to glare down at her. “You seem awfully eager about that. Most royal girls fear it, from what I’m told. Perhaps, like everything else, you know more about it than you should.”

  She cowered, feeling tiny beneath his accusing gaze. “No.”

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  A humorless laugh echoed through the fort around her. “Well, no Rituals of Passion for you, wanton.”

  She swallowed as they proceeded up the stairs. “Rituals…of Passion?”

  Only once they reached the top did he pause long enough to turn his dark, narrowed eyes on her again. “I’m sure you’ve heard of the pleasures to be had after the Maran game.”

  She could barely breathe. “Only…that, yes, there are pleasures.”

  “And you’d like that, wouldn’t you, naughty Teesia?” His expression hovered somewhere between aroused and threatening— then tipped entirely toward the latter. “Well, too bad, I’m afraid. For I have a whole different sort of training in mind for you.”

  * * * * *

  Teesia held her breath as Ralen led her into a large room filled with…Ares, so many exotic, erotic things that she could barely absorb it all!

  First, a large, ornate bed—unlike any she’d ever seen. Large posts rose from its four corners, the wood carved so that it appeared to twist ‘round and ‘round. Some six feet up, each post curved inward, the four winding cylinders of wood meeting in the center and then wrapping around one another until finally coming to a sharp point at the top. Above the bed—dear Ares—she saw a large viewing glass pieced together and mounted on the ceiling!

  Another spot in the room contained a small table, two chairs on either side. Nothing too heinous about that, but then came the next, larger table—or she guessed it was a table anyway. But it was covered, padded with soft, brushed leather. Expensive metal chains extended from the table’s four corners—she had no idea why, only the faint sensation that it looked forbidding.

  Beyond that lay a wall mounted with countless pegs and shelves and cabinetry, on which were displayed leather riding crops of various sizes and styles, and—oh my!—an assortment of the clay cocks Bella had introduced her to, and other items she didn’t even recognize. The sight of the play cocks tightened her chest and, Ares help her, her cunt. The entire chamber, hung and covered with rich silks and leathers, seemed made for a sort of fucking she could not quite comprehend—yet somehow she already felt it seeping into her. She knew instinctively that whatever happened in this room would change her, become a part of her forever. Her next shiver was not one of arousal, but of cold, stark fear. Fear of her new husband.

  It was then that he drew her firmly to him, his large hand closing over her bottomas he pressed a long, hard kiss across her lips. Her practice with Bella seemed useless in this instance as there was nothing to do but succumb to Ralen’s demanding mouth. Despite herself, his kiss and the very power behind it poured down through her like a rush of warm wine, and when his other hand closed over her breast, it was pleasure that shot to her cunt and made her gasp beneath him. He ended the passionate meeting

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  of mouths with a soft, sensual bite on her lower lip that seared her—and seemed to promise more to come.

  She felt dizzy by the time he stepped back to loosen the sash at her waist, slowly untwining it until the flowing red silk spilled straight down her body, no longer highlighting her curves. She felt almost chaste for a moment—until he reached for the shoulder straps, drawing them swiftly down until the whole dress dropped in a red heap at her feet.

  She suddenly stood naked before him, wearing only the colorful wrist and ankle bracelets he’d given her. Her skin prickled with the shocking sense of being put bluntly on display. She was torn between desperately wanting to cover herself and brazenly wanting him to see her. He drew back to look his fill, his eyes like flames, burning her skin.

  “As lovely as I imagined,” he said, but his voice was void of emotion, leaving her as uncertain as she’d felt since discovering his rancor toward her. “And now, your hair, wanton.”

  She swallowed nervously. She’d wanted it down so badly for so long, yet now, as he stepped behind her to unbraid it, his fingers in her tresses felt ominous.

  “You showed me your unbound hair on our first meeting,” he purred near her ear. “Do you remember?”

  She merely nodded, feeling her nudity—and fearing the loss of her braid would somehow add to it, making her even more vulnerable.

  “This time it will stay down,” he said firmly, reminding her that after tonight, noone need ever think her a virgin again.

  Once it had been freed, Ralen turned her to face him, then lifted his hands to fan his

  large fingers through her hair, spreading it across her shoulders. “Yes,” he said. “No

  one will be fooled into thinking you innocent any longer.”

  Taking her hand, he led her to the padded table with the chains. She drew in her breath, wondering what awaited her—but even in fear, her pussy began to warm with a strange, indecipherable longing.

  How could she want whatever tortures her barbarian husband would dish out to

  her? How could she desire him even now? Perhaps it was the dark mane of hair, or the eyes that seemed to match. Perhaps it was the raw virility that hung about him. Or maybe, maybe…it was even the danger.

  She’d seen it instantly on the night they’d met, had somehow instinctively known he was a dangerous man, and she’d wanted him because of it. It almost frightened her to think she wanted that even now—his danger, his punishment, whatever he had to give. But the truth was…she did. She wanted Ralen of Charelton, her beast husband. She wanted him however she could have him.

  “Lie down,” he told her, his voice as dark as the rest of him.

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  Her nipples beaded under his scrutiny as she climbed up on th
e table, her pussy as hungry as ever. A glance down reminded her it was as bare as the day she’d been born,and—dear Ares—the soft skin was parted of its own accord, revealing the pink flesh inside. She’d been yearning for him for two long years, and it would seem it took more than a little fear to squelch such deep-seated want.

  As she lay back on the soft leather, Ralen instructed her, “Raise your arms above your head.”

  She did as she was told, unflinchingly. Shaena had told her to obey, so she didn’teven think about protesting. Even when she heard two firm clicks and looked back over her shoulder to see that the chains had been attached to her jeweled bracelets. Which, she suddenly understood, weren’t really bracelets in the traditional sense at all. He’d given her gifts to aid him in chaining her up.

  Her heart seemed to sink to her stomach and it was difficult to breathe.

  Chaining her. He was chaining her to the table.

  All desire fled and her next impulse was to try to break away, somehow try to slip

  free of the bracelets and escape from the brute she’d just wed. But she knew already the bracelets were too tight—she was not a small-boned girl and they’d clasped snugly about her wrists when he’d put them on. Same for those at her ankles.

  She was trapped. Chained to a table, and Ares only knew what he intended to do to her—only that she would be totally at his mercy when he did it.

  Two more loud clicks and her ankles were locked as well, her legs spread toward the corners, her body making a perfect X shape on the platform. When she tugged slightly at her wrists, she discovered she couldn’t move them at all—she lay utterly helpless before him.