How dare she?!
He crouched in front of her again and lowered his eyes to her breasts. Lush and full, the size of ripe peaches, her small nipples invitingly erect and begging to be sucked. Her waist was slender and elegant, the tiny swell of her stomach enhancing her sensual feminine allure. He stared at her perfectly smooth, hairless vulva, prepared for him by the skilled Katrina, his cock jerking with anticipation at the magnificent sight. Talia was perfection, and she belonged to him. He raised his eyes to meet her desolate turquoise gaze. There was no shyness or embarrassment there, only overwhelming sadness. He was feverishly aroused, irritatingly connected… and furious.
“Show some enthusiasm, Talia, or I will give you to the stable hands to satisfy their brutish desires. I have no interest in your inert body.”
She flinched, but her eye contact with him did not.
“Please, Your Majesty, not like this… I cannot bear it.”
She tugged impotently at the chains and stared imploringly at him, her eyes begging his soul for a mercy it did not want to give. His heart sank; how could he do this? He was not a rapist and that was most definitely what this would be if he persisted now. Talia was unwilling, she was rejecting her king. He would never give her to another man, but she didn’t know that. An evil plan took shape in his twisted mind.
“Talia, I will give you a choice: me or my stable hands. When you have made your choice, you will embrace it wholeheartedly, whatever it may be. There will be no reprieve, no changing your mind. You need to be sure you make the right decision.”
He stared menacingly into her eyes, manufacturing as much hatred and vitriol as he could muster. He needed to get away from her, the one woman he wanted and could not have. He was furious. She had been honoured by her king but was unmoved, impervious. She had no respect for him at all.
“Your Majesty, please…”
“No. Be silent and consider your decision, Talia, you have offended me enough. I have shown you nothing but kindness and understanding yet you dare to disrespect me. You have until morning to decide. You will enthusiastically embrace the honour of my attentions or I will give you to the stable hands for their pleasure.”
He left without another word, his breath short and ragged as he fought for control. The blood stormed to his head, stoking a burning cauldron of anger and confusion. He needed to rant and roar, expel his frustrated sexual energy, satisfy his rampant, throbbing cock. Force Talia to submit to his will…
No, that could not happen, he would not allow her to reduce him to that. He glowered at the woman hanging naked from his cage, scowling at her trembling naked body. She was deliberately provoking him with her ripe beauty, tempting him with all he could not have. Little Lokian temptress… she would learn her place. A tiny whimper escaped her luscious lips, embedding in his heart, tearing at his soul. He felt Talia’s pain. He was lost, bewildered, bewitched… He was a mess. Damn! He would never be able to sleep tonight! Insubordinate, obstinate Talia… he wished he had never brought her here. Lokian visionaries were nothing but trouble.
He undressed with his back to her but felt her eyes boring into him, penetrating his soul. She would not desist. Talia would never let him rest; she was determined to haunt his every waking moment, infiltrate his head and steal his peace of mind. This was Lokian magic; their persistent staring could drive anyone insane. He stood there naked as the day he was born and swore he could feel her huge turquoise eyes probing inside his mind. Fuck! His head was thumping and his cock was throbbing, and he had had enough!
He stalked over to the cage to be greeted by her enormous mournful eyes. Her naked sex peeped out between her legs, taunting him and making him angrier than ever. Talia was teasing him with all he could not have, boldly tormenting her king. The most disrespectful slave ever. He fisted his cock, thinking of all the debauched things he would do to her when she finally surrendered to him. Talia, his exquisite little visionary sex slave. She was destined to be his. He stared into her stunned eyes, challenging her to meet his lustful gaze. And, of course, she did. Talia was brave – and stubborn. But he would make her his slave.
“I will have you, Talia, you belong to me now. Ensure you make the right decision.”
She watched as he stroked his cock, transfixed, uncowed and unashamed. Talia was bold, everything he had heard about Lokian sexuality was true. She was wild and passionate unlike the staid women of the court, would pursue her pleasure as relentlessly as he pursued his. She was his perfect match. He just had to be patient for a little longer and then he would experience her sensual delights. He stared into her all-seeing eyes and pumped his cock harder, faster, pleasure coursing through his body. This intensity of sensation was new. It was Talia. Her hypnotic turquoise eyes were controlling his pleasure, governing the responses of his body. His nerves were as erect as his cock, waiting for the moment when Talia would order them to climax in an orgiastic frenzy of delight. He was not his own man anymore, not the all-powerful king. He belonged to Talia.
His back was wet with a waterfall of sweat and his legs were trembling. He was falling apart, crumbling in front of the little Lokian sorceress. He dropped his cock as if it were scalding him and spun away from the petrifying power of her gaze. He had to get as far away from her as possible or he would destroy her, tear her apart. He yearned to eradicate all traces of Talia, obliterate her magic and its terrifying power over him.
He flung himself onto the bed and wrapped the thick blankets around his over-aroused body, but his traitorous cock refused to deflate. It was in abject thrall to the little Lokian sorceress, happy to humiliate itself in her presence. It no longer belonged to him, it stiffened and throbbed and ached for one thing only. One person only. Talia. It worshipped her perfect little cunt.
He wrestled with the blankets, unable to gain refuge from his thumping head and find the numbing peace of sleep. Talia would pay for this, pay for making her king wait for his pleasure. When she finally surrendered, he would unleash every depraved desire he had ever had, defile and corrupt her fragile, unsuspecting body. By the time he had finished, she would never be the same again. He would devour her, own her, body and soul, govern her completely. She would learn her rightful place as his adoring slave and crave every morsel of affection he deigned to give her, unable to take a breath without him near. Her body would yearn for his the way his yearned for her. A Lokian visionary was no match for him – he would triumph over Talia.
Talia would not win.
***********
Her stomach churned, and she was shivering uncontrollably, her teeth chattering so hard her jaw ached. She was frozen, inside and out. Her heart was encased in thick, unbreakable ice, destroyed by Isaac’s mindless brutality. She had been wrong – this king was not human. Whatever energy they shared was deviant and twisted and would destroy her without a qualm. Her body was imploding, unable to function normally anymore. She was lost, hanging from the bars of Isaac’s cage, her arms chained, her naked breasts on display for his amusement. It was inhumane to leave her like this, unable to move or attempt to warm her icy body. Her limbs were numb, but unfortunately her soul was not. It suffered, it wept. Despite his cruelty, she could not curtail her feelings for Isaac. Her intuition was so confused it was still insisting this was destined to be. Her enlightened mind was whispering, begging her to forgive him for he knew not what he did, urging her to persevere, to fight.
Fight for what?
She wasn’t spiritually enlightened, she was muddled, disorientated. A mess. A foolish woman hopelessly besotted with her captor. She had been unable to resist watching him undress, captivated by his powerful arms and the rippling muscles of his back. Why did he arouse her? He had chained her to his cage, humiliated and defeated, yet her clitoris throbbed insistently at the sight of his naked body. Isaac had driven her mad, corrupted her pure visionary mind. She was unable to think rationally. Her wicked captor was destroying her spiritual gifts with the potent magic of his physical beauty. He was a master magician, this ev
il king, in possession of a power that rivalled that of any Lokian visionary. His body was his gift and he was using it to control her, the merest glimpse of his manhood enough to make her catch her breath. It possessed such power and beauty, perfect skin stretched tight over its monstrously swollen girth. Greedy for satisfaction, it had thrust imperiously towards her with no restraint at all. Uninhibited and wild, just like Isaac. Just like her. Isaac had stood right in front of her and brazenly committed a lustful act, fisting his erection in an arrogant display of male sexuality. He had no shame at all and neither did she. He wanted to shock her with his depravity, but he had failed. Truth was, she was every bit as abandoned as him. If he was her lover, she would relish watching him indulge in such an intimate, erotic act, but he was not her lover, he was her captor. She must remember that. It was all too easy to forget for he was so very beautiful. The work of the devil…
She had watched him pleasuring himself, transfixed, her sex moistening with arousal, her heart thumping, her pulse dancing to a frenzied erotic rhythm. Her body had betrayed her with its desire for her captor, but Isaac had quashed its lust with his terrible threat. If she refused to surrender, she would be given to his stable hands for sport. Isaac had lied to her, she had no choice about anything, she was nothing but his helpless slave.
And now he was sleeping soundly in his warm bed while she hung naked from his cage, the unknown looming ominously over her. Pain shot through her shoulder, twisting agonisingly in her gut, and everything ached, everything hurt. She needed rest, sleep. She controlled the air going in and out of her body until she was barely breathing, entering a deep meditative state. She would not fight to stay in the mortal world anymore, she needed to escape. Her angel hawk circled overhead, his cries becoming louder and shriller as her mind drifted to thoughts of her people. Lokians didn’t torture innocent women, were uninterested in riches and power. They threatened no one – but they threatened Isaac. Every time he looked into her eyes she saw his fear of losing control, of losing the love of his people. He masked it cleverly but it was there, lurking behind his dominance and power. His fear made him a terrifying adversary; men wished to destroy that which they feared the most. She did not belong here with this dangerous, mesmerising man – she belonged with her people.
Her mind wandered further, taking refuge in childhood memories of her parents. Taken from her by the fever, so young. The concerned voices of her people battered against the sky blue veils protecting her enlightened mind, but she brushed them aside, consumed by her selfish needs. Isaac had corrupted her, distracted her from her spiritual path so all her energies were concentrated on him. The seduction of the devil was a powerful thing.
She reached out to stroke her angel hawk’s neck, unable to resist a moment longer. She was a lost spirit with no connection to the mortal world. The hawk’s snow white feathers ruffled against her cheek, soft, soothing, healing – and she knew she couldn’t stay here anymore. Her body was suffering, dying from cold and neglect. How had this happened? How was it possible for such evil to afflict an innocent soul? She left the horrors of Isaac’s bedroom to fly with her angel hawk, no longer aware of where she was or who she was. She was a formless, floating spirit, connected to the mortal world only by memories and dreams, travelling to the blessed world of the spirit realms. A world where anything was possible, a world where she belonged. There was nothing left for her in the mortal world anymore…
***********
He had lain awake for God knows how long, listening to Talia’s incessant whimpering, and the noise had become insufferable. She was wailing, a long, continuous moan of desolation, determined to stoke the sickening sensation in the pit of his stomach, that alien bite of guilt. He was King. He had no reason to feel guilty about anything, but he did. He had chained Talia in his cage on her first night at the palace. It was cruel, but she deserved it. Every other woman in Cornicunia would have revelled in the honour of sharing their king’s body and eagerly satisfying his every whim. Not Talia, oh no, she did not think like other women, she was a Lokian visionary…
“Be quiet!”
His words had no impact, if anything her moaning became louder still.
“I said be quiet!”
He sprang from the bed, his cock still painfully erect as he stalked over to the cage. The night lantern was a spotlight on the horror his eyes met there, highlighting the appalling consequences of his cruelty. Talia… oh fuck, no. He stared in shock and disbelief as a sickening fear gripped his callous heart. His precious little visionary was shaking uncontrollably, her teeth chattering a chilling melody in her jaw. She was freezing, left naked and helpless to suffer the merciless iciness of a Cornicunian night, unable to even hug her body with her arms for warmth, imprisoned by her evil master.
Him.
And that wasn’t even the most shocking thing…
His head swam as he stared at the ghostlike, vacant little face gazing unseeingly back at him. Her glorious turquoise eyes were glazed and unfocused, no longer present in this mortal world. What had he done? Everything that had happened whirled through his racing mind at breakneck speed, cutting through the foolishness of his ego and his fury and exposing the hideous truth.
He had kidnapped Talia, brought her to his palace to be his slave. Her body had been prepared for his pleasure and she had been delivered naked to the blue room, a plaything awaiting her new master. How had he expected her to react? She was a Lokian visionary, used to a life of spirituality and peace, plunged into debauchery and slavery. She was in shock, and he had made it even worse by abandoning her naked in the cage simply because she had hurt his ego. Such an oversensitive king. He shook his head as self-disgust embedded in his heart and another alien emotion flooded over him. Shame. He was standing here like a self-obsessed idiot, wallowing in his torment and watching Talia suffer. Her turquoise eyes stared unseeingly back at him, empty and yet somehow accusing. You did this to me, Isaac. You.
He pounced into action, grabbing two thick blankets from the foot of the bed before unlocking the cage and striding to her side. He crouched down beside her and gazed into her exquisite eyes, but she stared right through him as if he wasn’t there.
“Talia? Talia, look at me, my sweet, look at me.”
Fear gripped his heart, squeezing it with merciless fury. You did this to me, Isaac. You. He could feel the cold radiating from her body as she hung from the cage, numb and lifeless, arms chained above her head, straining her back muscles, her shoulders. Her shoulder, her injury… what the fuck had he been thinking? This was not punishment, it was abuse. She looked so fragile hanging from the bars, a slender woman abused by an arrogant, heartless king. He had to act. Fast.
He tore the manacles from her wrists, but her arms remained where they were as if they were controlled by his will. Gently, he pulled them down, and she moaned pitifully. Stiff and frozen, they hung lifeless by her sides as if they were no longer part of her body. He caught his breath as he rubbed his hands over her icy skin. Cold, hard, like stone, she didn’t feel human anymore. What had he done? He wrapped one of the blankets around her torso and as he pulled her to his chest, the blanket fell open so her naked body pressed against his. Her eyes didn’t flicker, she didn’t make a sound, an exquisite, dead little doll. This was worse than he had thought. She accepted the intimate contact as if nothing was happening – she wasn’t fighting anymore. Talia’s spirit had flown, unable to bear his cruelty. He shuddered as the iciness of her skin seeped into his, making his body as cold as his cruel heart. What had he done? He couldn’t believe he had dealt with this so badly. Somehow he had to put things right.
As he reached for the second blanket, she sprang to life, a white-faced spectre intent on revenge. Stunned by her sudden movement, he sat still as a statue as she scratched at his bare chest again and again, raking the tender skin. He gritted his teeth and accepted his righteous punishment, but Talia took no pleasure from his pain, her turquoise eyes glazed and vacant.
He wrapped the blan
ket around them both and leant back heavily against the cold, hard bars of the cage, welcoming the discomfort of the unforgiving metal against his flesh. Talia was suffering and so would he. It was the way it was meant to be. She clung to his chest, pulling hard on the hairs, the sensation a disconcerting mixture of pain and pleasure. Her legs curled so they were tangled up in his, and he caught his breath, shaken by the vibrations of peace and pleasure surging through his body. This mysterious wonder happened every time Talia’s skin caressed his. What would fucking her be like if a simple touch affected him as powerfully as this?
His jaw slackened and his eyes glazed over just like Talia’s, hypnotised by the feeling of completion. Here, in this cage, with Talia, he was at peace. Her exquisite face turned upwards as if she was staring into his eyes, but her turquoise orbs were emptier than ever. She had stopped moaning and reverted to the pathetic little whimpers of earlier that night. He stroked her hair, scrutinising her eyes for a flicker of a reaction, but there was nothing. Just a ghostly white film over her pupils as if she had drawn the curtains on this life and retreated to another world. Because of him. Would she ever return? Or was he left with an empty shell of a Lokian visionary destroyed by one night with her king? It was unbearable. What kind of man took a magnificent creature and sucked the life out of it, ripped its beauty from the world? Not the kind of man he wanted to be. He held her tighter, praying silently into her sweet-smelling hair. Forgive me, Talia. Please, come back.
And he realised what he had to do. It was simple. Talia was suffering, and his bed was warm and comfortable. Her punishment must end – she was not strong enough to endure it. He was the cause of her disconnected, terrifying behaviour and would help her in the only way he could. He scooped her up into his arms and strode from the cage without a moment’s hesitation. Her head fell against his shoulder, and she clung to him even tighter as if she gained reassurance from the contact with his skin, some connection with the physical world she was no longer living in.
Talia and Isaac Page 6