by Morgan Henry
Cella didn’t care how sympathetic he was, she was not getting on a damn horse today.
“How will it possibly make things easier tomorrow? My legs are just starting to forgive me.” It was true. She had woke this morning only marginally painful, and the stiffness was now gone. It was mid-morning and Cella was noting some thoughts about her shield enchantment down in her workbook.
Arto looked at the ceiling then back at her. “I don’t know why it works this way, but if you ride today, just for a little while, you won’t be as sore tomorrow as you would if you didn’t ride today.” He frowned. “I’m not sure that makes sense, but it’s true.”
Arto perched on a chair in front of her and tried again. “Cella. Sola. Please believe that I have only your best interests in my heart. I would like you to ride with me for a short while this morning.”
Cella was still appalled at the thought of getting on Marta again, but she had to admit, Arto seemed to have her care uppermost in his mind. He seemed to take his promise to look after her seriously.
But ride again! Her muscles all started to quiver as if they were going to cry.
“Really?” she whispered, almost whined, actually. Inwardly she was revolted. She was not a whiner.
She looked down at her notebook, knowing she would do as he asked, but resenting that she had to leave this cozy library and her notes. “I almost can’t believe I trust you enough to let you talk me onto a horse today.”
Arto gave her a smile that seemed both relieved and smug at the same time. “Go change, Cella. I’ll meet you at the stables.”
She changed swiftly. The maid that was assigned to her, Kyna, had a riding habit ready for her that apparently the young lady of this grand estate had grown out of. It fit her fairly well. Cella was grateful for the additional clothing, but a little ashamed that she had brought so little with her.
She muttered something about paying for the clothing, but the maid was horrified.
“My Lady! It was sitting upstairs in the attic waiting for a use. Lady Lovina was delighted someone came along who could wear it with almost no alterations.” Kyna’s hand was on her belly, as if she were ill. Cella wasn’t sure if the thought of payment or the waste of the clothing was the cause.
Cella quite liked the young lady and didn’t want to upset her further, so she hurried to the stables.
Wandering among the stalls didn’t give her the sickly, anxious feeling it used to. She supposed she had Arto and his lessons to thank for that.
She could now recognize the noses thrust over the stall doors as curious instead of threatening. The ears that were pricked forward were interested and seeking a treat or attention, not tracking her to rear and stomp on her body.
The smell of the stables was not really that offensive, she mused. The sweet green smells of the hay and straw were pleasant. The manure really wasn’t that bad, not nearly as overwhelming as that of cattle or pigs. Moreover, when it wasn’t in her hair, the odour of the horses made her think of Arto.
Her body remembered the feel of Arto’s body against hers the night he had kept her warm. At the time she was too sore and exhausted to really appreciate the sensation.
But now, every time she lay in bed, thoughts of how his arms felt around her, how the hard planes of his made a strangely comfortable backrest, and how the bulge in his groin seemed much larger than any other male of her experience.
As if her erotic thoughts summoned him, Arto strolled into view. The light was behind him, placing his body in almost a silhouette, but she would recognize him anywhere now. The long lines of his body were perfect and she would know that gait anywhere.
He strode forward and wrapped his arms around her. Cella started a little, but settled quickly into his embrace. It felt wonderful—safe and warm. He gave a rumble that made her think Arto was holding her for his own pleasure as much as to reassure Cella.
Slowly, he broke the hug. “I want to practice some more advanced skills with you today. We’ll stay in the ring.”
That made Cella’s anxieties rear their ugly snakeheads again. Each of them was like a little viper in her belly, the most imminent ones rearing their little head up and poking her chest. One was named falling off, another was called being dragged, and one was being trampled. There were a few others, but those were the biggest.
She wanted to run. To say she changed her mind and go back into the house. He wouldn’t force her to stay, she knew that.
But Arto would be disappointed and she wanted his approval. She wanted more than his approval, if she was completely honest, but that really shouldn’t happen.
So, the approval-seeking part of her beat back the snakes and said, “That sounds fine.” There wasn’t too large a squeak at the end.
Arto barked out a chuckle. “I know it’s not ‘fine’ with you, but we’ll try anyway. You are capable of being an excellent rider and I would love to see you easier in the saddle.”
They walked out to the large practice area. Merlo and Marta were saddled and waiting.
The practice area was a sandy rectangle. It was bordered with a short, loose fence and had small trees at intervals around it. There were jumps, barriers, and obstacles scattered around the space. At the farthest end, Cella could see some dummies for lance and sword skills lying against the fence. At least they weren’t out. She didn’t think she was up to dodging war equipment yet.
She mounted Marta by herself. As sad as it sounded, she was happy she could get on and off her own horse now, without help from Arto or anyone else.
She guided the mare over to where Arto and Merlo waited at the very far end of the field.
“I would like you to be more comfortable guiding Marta around obstacles when you’re going a little faster.” Arto gestured at the various obstacles scattered on the field. “I’ll demonstrate.”
He spurred Merlo into a gallop. Cella could admire the way Arto made it look so easy to stay on the warhorse as he weaved masterfully between the obstacles. He was so good, it almost seemed as though she was watching a centaur, not two creatures. He thundered back to her, halting Merlo several feet away then approaching more slowly. Merlo was dancing a little, eager to run again.
“I don’t think I can go that fast.” Cella’s hands tightened on the reins and Marta shifted.
“I know.” Arto’s voice was as calm, and as unyielding, as ever. “But you’ll canter and as you get better, you’ll go faster.”
He proceeded to instruct her on how to keep her seat more firmly and how to guide Marta properly.
Marta, surprisingly, was extensively trained. She could weave her way in and out of the obstacles, jump, and spin as well or better than some warhorses. Cella wondered if the mare was wasted on a lump like her. But then, Arto could easily sell her when Cella was gone.
Cella was shocked to realize that hurt a little. Did it hurt to think that she would no longer be able to ride the mare? Or was it that she didn’t want to leave Kerban and Arto?
She put those thoughts aside and concentrated on her lesson.
By the end, she was weaving around the obstacles at a slow gallop. She had a better understanding of Marta’s capabilities and that her horse didn’t really want Cella to fall off.
She dismounted and patted the mare’s shoulder affectionately. The groom nodded to Cella and left to care for the mare. Merlo and his groom followed the two, the big horse’s ears pricked forward, closely following what he now considered his mare.
“You did very well, Sola.” Arto’s deep, sensuous voice dripped into her ear as his arm wrapped around her waist.
“Thank you.” Cella’s heart sped up. “Thank you for the lesson, Ar—Arto.” Why had she stuttered like that?
Arto pulled her into an empty stall. There were no other humans in this wing of the big barn right now. Cella’s breath came a little faster as his tall, lean body caged her against the wall. The smell of dust and hay and the spicy scent of Arto were in her nostrils as her vision was blocked by his capture.
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“Mmm, I’ve wanted this since I saw you dishing up stew in Ascar’s camp.”
Cella was flat against the wall as Arto bent down to press his lips to hers. She inhaled deeply as his rough lips explored hers. He nipped her bottom lip and she gasped.
Arto took advantage and slipped his tongue into her mouth. She couldn’t help but give a little moan at that.
As he explored gently, one hand gathered her wrists in its strong grip behind her back, while the other wrapped her braid around his fist. She was completely controlled and at his mercy, and her body went limp against his.
A small part of her brain was confused at this turn of events. Why did it feel so good to be controlled?
And it did.
His domination ramped up her arousal by a large margin. She actually felt moisture seep from her slit and dampen her underthings. Her nipples bulged against her bodice and all her clothes suddenly felt too tight and too rough on her skin.
Arto pressed his body against hers, not letting go of her hands or head. She could feel the bulge of his erection against her as he slid his tongue against hers. He twined his tongue around hers and then fucked her mouth with it.
She shivered. She pressed her body against his, rubbing against him, loving the feel of her soft parts squishing against his hardness.
All too quickly, Arto weaned his mouth from hers. He broke the kiss, but not his hold on her. His lips rested lightly on her cheek, both of them breathing heavily. For several long moments they stood like that, body to body, Arto in control.
“Ah, sola,” he finally whispered. “You are even more enticing than I thought.”
Cella didn’t know what to say to that, so she kept silent.
With a deep rumble, he released her slowly. His eyes were dark and filled with something Cella would tentatively call lust.
“Your maid should have a hot bath ready for you. Go,” he said firmly. “I will see you at dinner this evening.”
Still breathing too heavily, Cella left.
* * * *
Arto leaned against the stall wall. His cock was painfully hard and begging for release. It had been years since he was so randy, he had to jerk off in the stables.
Cella had enticed him with her lush beauty and sweetness, but when she melted so completely into his small amount of control, he was lost.
Arto liked to be in control in the bedroom. He couldn’t care less what a woman wanted outside of it, as long as she was safe. His past lovers had been nobles, healers, mages…many different duties. But he enjoyed it most when they submitted to him for mutual sexual pleasure.
Thank the god and goddess that Kerban was sexually liberated. Their culture allowed for and embraced sexual diversity.
Arto’s minor predilection toward dominance was well within the limits of Kerban’s tolerance. He liked a bit of bondage, some spanking, and the use of sexual toys. He knew other men and women that were more demanding of their lovers, but he didn’t feel any need to take control to the levels some of his acquaintances did.
He was now even more eager to get little Cella into his bed.
Her completely unconscious and positive response to his control almost had him taking her against the stable wall. He’d actually like to do that one day, but was at least in control enough to realize that would not be ideal for their first time together.
Besides, he had not set up such an encounter with the stable staff. As much as he would like Cella to think they were in a semi-public place, he didn’t want anyone else watching his little sola come apart on his cock.
Those thoughts didn’t too much to relieve his erection. He went back to the manor house to clean up and arrange for the next leg of the journey.
After an excellent dinner, the party settled in the library. Several of Arto’s men played cards with Lord Hirt, their low voices and masculine laughter comfortable sounds in the room. The fire crackled, warming the space against the cold night and heavy frost that was sure to be on the grounds tomorrow. Arto lazed on the couch, content to be still.
Lady Lovina was at her sewing hoop while she chatted with Cella.
“Lady Lovina, I truly do not wish to poach any of your servants. I really do not need a maid. His grace is being overly worrisome about my care.”
“Lady Cella, you must have a maid. A woman in your position has certain standards to maintain. You are not living a cloistered life anymore where the only appearance you need make is to your students. You simply cannot look after your clothes and gowns as a maid would.” Lady Lovina stabbed at her needlework with more force than truly needed.
“But surely Kyna does not wish to leave her home,” said Cella, tapping her cup quickly.
“My dear, Kyna is quite happy and excited to be taken on as Lady’s maid. She’s too smart and hardworking to be satisfied with being a housemaid.” Lady Lovina patted Cella’s knee and went back to her needle. “She’s our blessing to go and see what the world has to offer her.”
“What if she is unhappy with me? What will happen to her when I go back to Jorval?” Cella leaned forward, her hands clasped tightly together.
“I sincerely doubt she would be unhappy with you, but if so, then she is welcome back here. When you leave, she will have quite a bit of experience and likely get a position with another lady at court.”
Lovina set aside her threads and took one of Cella’s hands.
“This arrangement benefits Kyna greatly, don’t doubt that for a moment. She’s a good young woman, steady, smart and knows she wants more in life. We look after our servants. If I thought for one minute that you and his Grace wouldn’t look after Kyna properly, I wouldn’t be letting her leave so easily.”
Cella sighed and Arto watched the stiffness leave her. “I will look after her. I just needed to know that she wasn’t leaving a lover or a family that needed her.”
“Kyna’s not with anyone special, and her family will be happy to see her get on, according to our head housekeeper.” The needle went in and out of her tapestry. “Really, Lady Cella, you need someone to look after you properly.”
Cella gave a private little smile at that. Arto well knew that Cella was capable of looking after herself, when she wasn’t half crippled from learning to ride the hard way.
“I, too, am glad Cella will have a maid. I was looking like a poor escort, not looking after her Ladyship’s needs.” Arto couldn’t help but tease Cella a little. “I want my man back to look after me, too. Tors was getting a little too comfortable brushing out skirts. I was starting to worry he’d abandon me for a prettier employer.”
“I can’t see Tors leaving you for anyone. I definitely don’t think he has an eye for the ladies,” Cella noted.
Arto chuckled. He wasn’t sure if Cella had picked up on the fact that Tors was homosexual, though the man didn’t try to hide it. Arto had no leanings that way, and Tors didn’t find Arto attractive, so their positions as Lord and Valet didn’t suffer.
Arto stretched his long body, balancing precariously on the edge of the couch. “I am heading to bed. We’re leaving early tomorrow, and I will be taking advantage of every moment I can spend in your comfortable guest bed, Lady Lovina.” He stood and bowed to his hostess, and turned to Cella.
She stood and bobbed a curtsey to Lovina. “Thank you so much. It is entirely possible my legs would have fallen off if we hadn’t stopped here.”
“We’re delighted to have met you. I doubt I’ll be up to see you off, so safe journey, my dear. Do write us when you get to Kerfaen and let us know how Kyna is getting on and whether or not you are enjoying yourself.” Lady Lovina stood and kissed Cella on the cheek.
“I will. Thank you.” Cella smiled at Lovina with that smile that made Arto think the sun was rising.
He escorted her back upstairs to her room. She looked nervous, her eyes darting around the empty hallway and her breasts moving attractively with her increased breathing.
Arto couldn’t resist. He pinned her again, this time against the wall in
the hall. His hand went around her ribs, the thumb stroking the underside of her breast gently. He stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers and was pleased with the little hitch in her breath.
“How many lovers have you had, Sola?” he whispered.
“One.” Her voice was shaky.
Thank the goddess. Arto wanted her first time with him to be about pleasure, not the pain of taking her virginity.
“Did this lover make you tremble in anticipation? Did he make you scream with pleasure as you came all over his cock?” Arto’s mouth was next to her ear as he spoke and he nipped the lobe.
Cella made a tiny, high-pitched sound. “No,” she choked out.
“I want to be your lover, Cella. While you’re in Kerban, I want you to be mine. I will tell you, I like to play games with my lovers in bed. I like to tie them up, make them come over and over. I like to spank them. I want to do all these things and more to you, Cella.”
She shuddered and gave a tiny whimper.
“Nothing more than what you are willing, I promise. Our mutual pleasure is what I seek. I want to watch you fall apart.” Arto’s lips had trailed up her cheek and over her forehead as he spoke.
By the soft moan and involuntary tilt of her hips toward him, Arto hoped that Cella would be a willing participant.
“Think about this, Cella. I don’t want you to make a decision in the heat of the moment that you will regret later.” The hand Arto was leaning against the wall with reached down to cup her buttock and pull her little body against his raging erection. He was breathing heavily now. “I would take you to my room and love you all night long, but I don’t want you to have any regrets in the morning. Good night, Sola.”
“Good night,” she whispered.
He let her go, though, by the God, it was difficult. He wanted to make her come so many times she would be unable to stand, let alone sit on her horse in the morning. He wanted to taste her sweet pussy, feel her lips around his cock, and hear her cries of passion as took her over and over.
But he did not want her to have any regrets. He wanted her willing, making the decision to enjoy his brand of loving with a clear head. He did not want her swept along by a combination of inexperience and the need for release.