Caralissa's Conquest Page 5

  Varik took her crossed hands and lifted them so that the flat of each palm was touching the opposite forearm. The resulting tie raised her breasts even higher as she was compelled now to keep her back ramrod straight. Looking down at Varik’s work finished, Caralissa marvelled at the overall effect. Her skin was crisscrossed with purple lines, the pale flesh lovingly displayed and quartered. Every part of her seemed to glow, seemed to call out for a man’s caress, a man’s kiss or - if he were so inclined - a man’s discipline.

  ‘Come, Little Flame,’ he beckoned, leading her by the arm, steadying her as she tried to walk upon much weakened legs. ‘Come and kneel again upon my furs.’

  It was an honour, of course, for a girl to be allowed upon them, though at the moment they were chiefly occupied by Ahzur, who was snoring happily, dreaming no doubt of some animal to hunt.

  ‘Ahzur,’ Varik said. ‘Ja-ta.’

  Caralissa assumed this meant something like ‘shoo’, but the big cat seemed unimpressed. Yawning heavily it sat upright, but did not budge from its spot.

  ‘Yes,’ Varik said as though the animal were asking a question, ‘you may sniff.’

  The cat put its nose to Caralissa’s foot, causing her to recoil. Ahzur looked at her and growled.

  ‘Do not do that,’ Varik said. ‘He is trying to learn your scent.’

  ‘Could I not send him a sample of my perfume?’ she asked.

  The cat rubbed its nose over her foot then began to lick her ankle. When it moved up her leg she tried again to pull away, but a stern look from Varik was enough to discourage her. The cat’s nose was wet and warm and the whiskers tickled. Without her arms she felt doubly vulnerable. Leaning into Varik, putting her life in his hands, she prayed for the ordeal to end.

  ‘Oh my,’ she gasped, when it reached the nexus of her legs. ‘Won’t it...?’

  The words eluded her, but Varik assured her the cat was only curious and that in a moment it would go away and resume its nap. Sure enough it did, though not after taking very thorough olfactory samples indeed. As a parting gesture Ahzur put his paws upon her shoulders, licking her face and even tasting her hair as though she were some savoury morsel or a small version of his own kind.

  Caralissa was visibly rattled as Varik helped her to kneel.

  ‘Do not move,’ he instructed, issuing the all too familiar command.

  ‘Where am I to go?’ she asked, shrugging her trussed shoulders.

  She heard Varik leaving and for a moment she imagined she might run away. At the very least, she reasoned, she ought to move from this demeaning position. Could she undo the ropes? It was a very disturbing thing, being left like this, dominated by a man when he wasn’t even there. What did he care how she stayed when he was gone? What right did he have to determine if she sat or knelt or anything?

  Caralissa rose to her feet, unsteadily. At once Ahzur raised his head and bared his teeth. He continued to do so until she went back to her knees. Wonderful, she thought bitterly, now I am being bossed around by animals as well.

  A short while later Varik returned with food. ‘Are you hungry?’ he asked, with typical male denseness.

  ‘No,’ she snapped. ‘I dined on a roast and some suckling pig while you were gone. I fixed it myself.’

  ‘No doubt carving the flesh with your sharp tongue,’ he countered.

  He let her stew awhile longer while he prepared several bowls, using the awkward wooden stool in the corner. One at a time he laid them at her feet. Finally he stood before her, holding in one hand a bunch of pink grapes and in the other a thin strip of wood, green, the thickness of a twig.

  ‘A Rashal warrior brings to his slave girl many things,’ he explained sombrely, as though addressing a temple full of worshippers. ‘In general, these things may all be subsumed under two categories: pleasure and pain.’

  To demonstrate the former he held up the tiny pink fruits. For the latter he showed the strip of wood, which she now recognised to be an instrument of torture. Instinctively she drew her knees tightly together.

  ‘Open your mouth, Little Flame.’

  She regarded him, tight-lipped. So long as he held that thing, he would get no cooperation from her.

  Varik tapped the switch against his thigh. As usual he enjoyed the distinct advantage of clothing. ‘Did you know a Rashal slave can be made to orgasm,’ he lectured, ‘upon command?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘I guess Rashal slaves have no minds of their own, then do they?’

  Varik flicked the tip of the switch across Caralissa’s captive nipple, just hard enough to get her attention. This achieved he flicked her again, more sternly.

  ‘That is the level of pain you will receive,’ he explained to his wide-eyed prisoner. ‘Each time you answer me with disrespect. I will now repeat the question.’

  ‘No,’ she answered when he was done. ‘I did not know that.’

  ‘Your legs must not be closed like this,’ he said, switching subjects. ‘When you kneel and a man approaches with a whip, you will part your legs. Consider it an unspoken signal.’

  Caralissa swallowed. He would punish her if she disobeyed, but once her sex was exposed there’d be no limit to what he might do. Then again, what limit was there now? In the end, she opened herself.

  ‘You were told previously to open your mouth as well,’ he said harshly, striking her upon the thigh, the switch whistling as it sliced the air.

  ‘Ow!’ she cried out, looking at him in shock and pain. His face expressionless, Varik lifted his arm once again, taking aim.

  Like a tiny bird Caralissa gaped, arching her neck. It was a knee-jerk reaction, one that shamed her for its cringing servility. He fed her the grape, even as the tears began to well in her eyes.

  ‘Look at your thigh, Little Flame,’ he commanded, after she managed to swallow the sweet little grape down her trembling throat. She did so, seeing the welt, some two inches long, red and angry, which now marred her perfect skin. Indignation rose from deep in her belly, burning and souring the juice of the single grape that occupied her empty stomach. It was unthinkable! Caralissa of the house of Lysor, daughter of Lysanis, sovereign of Orencia, guardian of the people, was being tortured like a common slave.

  ‘That was the result of disobedience, Little Flame. Note the different punishment it receives than does your disrespect,’ he explained. ‘Note, too, that neither of these constitute your punishment for last night’s more serious offence.’

  Defiantly she glared up at him, straining at the ropes. ‘Are these your love bonds, Varik? Must you hit your women for them to love you?’

  Varik leaned forward with the switch, taking careful aim as he flicked her other nipple, treating it just as the first. There was in his action no animosity, no trace of emotion. She’d been disrespectful again and he was merely following through on his words, accustoming her to his techniques. In short, he was training her, just as he said he would, and just as she assured herself could never happen.

  ‘No more games,’ Caralissa declared, summoning her strength to rise to her feet. ‘You may kill me now or else release me.’

  She’d risen halfway when Ahzur began once more to growl.

  Stamping her foot petulantly, boiling with rage, Caralissa went back to her knees. ‘I hate you,’ she told Varik. ‘I will always hate you.’

  The switch whistled across her exposed breasts, catching both nipples.

  ‘I am sorry!’ she cried. ‘I am sorry!’

  ‘I did not strike you for hating me,’ he explained, as though the distinction made one bit of difference for her throbbing breasts, ‘but rather because you lied. I know you do not in fact hate me.’

  She looked at him through tear soaked eyes, a wicked smile rising to the surface. ‘So I may tell the truth, then?’ she challenged. ‘With impunity?’

  He wrinkled his brow. ‘I hadn’t considered it tha
t way, but I suppose you can, yes.’

  ‘Good,’ she spat. ‘Then I am free to tell you that?’

  ‘Open your mouth,’ he interrupted, cutting off her intended string of vituperative directed against his many shortcomings.

  Caralissa obeyed, but not without showing him with her eyes all the things she intended to say with her tongue. The second grape was sweeter than the first, and as it joined the other in her barren tummy she was painfully reminded of the extent of her hunger. The barbarian had fed her nothing in nearly twelve hours, despite his having put her through gruelling paces and exploiting her body in the most outrageous ways.

  ‘Open,’ he repeated, and she did so in a much more pliant way this time. Five grapes in all he allowed her. She made no moves to speak in between. Eyes wide like a hawk’s she watched as he set down the remaining grapes and took up one of the nearly forgotten bowls. She saw that it contained meat, finely cubed and browned, and she watched him pop a piece into his own mouth.

  Whatever happened, she told herself, she would not stoop to begging.

  ‘A bit salty,’ he shrugged, sitting himself beside her on the furs, his legs crossed. ‘But not bad. Ahzur, fetch!’

  Caralissa gasped in protest as he took a handful of the meat and tossed it to the sleeping cat. Raising its head, yawning widely, it looked down at the tiny offering and wrinkled its nose.

  ‘He is spoiled,’ Varik muttered, shaking his head as he took another piece for himself.

  ‘Varik!’ she cried, unable to still the riot in her belly. ‘For the goddess’ sake, give me something to eat!’

  Varik considered her. ‘You may help yourself,’ he decided, pouring out a sprinkling of pieces on the fur in front of her.

  Caralissa looked down at the meat, impossibly out of reach. ‘How am I to eat this?’ she demanded.

  Varik swatted a nipple, causing her to yelp.

  ‘What I meant,’ she began again, wincing as she chose her words with distinct care. ‘Your lordship, is that I cannot eat without my hands.’

  Varik stayed the whip, apparently having overlooked the sarcastic edge to her use of his title. ‘Ahzur eats without hands,’ he pointed out, inclining his head towards the slobbering animal.

  ‘Fine,’ she hissed, ‘suit yourself.’

  Before he could lash out at her tender nipples Caralissa dove forward, collapsing on her own shoulder. Manoeuvring her mouth, facedown, still on her knees, she grabbed at the meat, greedily inhaling it.

  ‘Clever girl,’ Varik acknowledged, sliding the bowl within reach.

  Caralissa inserted her face, all pretence of dignity lost to the desperation of hunger. So much so that she didn’t even notice him changing positions, placing himself behind her.

  ‘Do not move,’ he said, repeating once more the words she was coming to dread.

  Her body jolted as the object found her opening, the smaller one, slipping in past the rope. It was the switch, she was sure of it. Varik was using it on her, in her, finding a way to circumvent her defiance. Eyes closed, panting, her jaws still chewing, Caralissa submitted to the invasion, to her anal possession by a piece of wood, a green sapling.

  Never did she dream a woman could be taken in such a way. It was terrible, revolting, and yet it heated her loins, made her feel even more under Varik’s power as his property, his toy. Shamed, humiliated, Caralissa raised her buttocks to the odd but not unpleasant sensation, silently begging for more.

  ‘Try the vegetables,’ he suggested, pouring the contents of the second bowl into the first as he removed the switch from inside her anal opening.

  She moaned into the rounded container, feeling the sudden, painful vacuum. Subtly, passionately, her body weak and fever-wracked, she went from biting to licking and nibbling, savouring the flavour of the tiny pieces of meat and vegetable. Suddenly it was something else she craved, a different flavour altogether.

  ‘Let me please you,’ she begged, lifting her head to look into his eyes, her hunger forgotten. ‘Let me please you like I did last night.’

  Varik opened the fastening of his trousers. Caralissa took him deep at the first contact, deeper than she dared go before. It was as if with each session between them, the harder he pushed her, the more he shamed and infuriated her, the more he was bringing forth from inside her true self. Could it be she in turn was testing him somehow, seeing if he was worthy to control her, seeing if he would protect and keep her safe, even as she submitted to his bonds and his discipline?

  ‘More slowly,’ he said, tapping her back with the switch.

  Caralissa released him and began again. She was working her way to the perfect rhythm when she heard Varik speak, not to her or to Ahzur, but to another. She felt her blood chill as she realised it was Senelek. She tried to lift her head, to hide herself, but he put his hand on the back of her neck, not hurtfully but firmly, in order to make it clear she was to continue serving him.

  ‘Well,’ she heard Senelek say. ‘I understand now why we do not march today to subdue Orencia.’

  Varik ran the switch up Caralissa’s back, across her bound arms. ‘Orencia seems to me well subdued already,’ he observed.

  Caralissa stiffened. With the Rashal warlord’s shaft in her mouth and his bonds biting deeply into her flesh, there was little to mitigate his argument.

  ‘The men grow restless,’ Senelek responded, his voice devoid of humour. ‘They wish to know why we linger in this place.’

  Varik ran his hand over Caralissa’s glossy hair as her head continued to bob up and down. ‘We linger because it is my will.’

  Senelek was silent for a moment. ‘Yes, my brother, that goes without saying. But surely they are owed something more?’

  ‘Tell them I am negotiating for a ransom. A fitting cost for the return of her majesty the queen.’

  ‘Indeed.’ He cleared his throat. ‘In her present state, I should say that value to be a few copper coins at most.’

  Caralissa increased the intensity of her suctioning, it being the only way to vent her outrage. Senelek was effectively calling her a whore, a copper coin girl of the sort to be found in the pleasure-houses.

  ‘I think her royal personhood takes umbrage,’ Varik observed, no doubt sensing the sudden friction on his manhood.

  ‘We have never taken hostages,’ Senelek said. ‘It is not the Rashal way. Nor is keeping enemy sluts for one’s self when one’s warrior brothers go hungry.’

  ‘The girl is worth fifty thousand, maybe a hundred thousand crowns. The Orencians will beg, borrow and steal for her more than we could loot in a year from these petty little kingdoms.’ Varik inhaled, his body stiffening. Caralissa moaned. He was going to discharge, right in front of Senelek.

  ‘The empire is run on steel,’ Senelek declared. ‘Not on gold.’

  Varik grasped Caralissa’s hair, pushing forth his pelvis to find the sweet spot at the roof of her mouth. ‘Perhaps,’ he acknowledged, filling her with a fresh load of his sperm, the largest yet. ‘But steel may be more easily acquired with gold than without.’

  A moment later he lifted her from his lap, putting her back onto her knees beside him.

  ‘Good girl,’ he said, rubbing her head for having swallowed properly.

  ‘You offer a clever argument, as always, brother,’ Senelek replied, his eyes on Caralissa, shaming her more deeply than could any act of Varik’s upon her flesh. ‘And yet I fear it is not with your brain that you are reasoning.’

  She tried to evade Senelek’s stare, but Varik, seeing this, cautioned her to keep looking straight ahead. At the same time he tapped her thigh with the whip - her marked thigh. Having grasped the meaning, very reluctantly then, she opened her legs in full view of the dark-eyed priest.

  ‘Would you like to try her?’ Varik asked, seeing his brother’s obvious interest.

  Caralissa gave a desperate cry, piteous and filt
ering from the back of her throat. It did not dawn on her till this very moment just how absolute was Varik’s power over her. He had not yet taken her himself, and yet if he wished he could give her to his brother, or to the entire army for that matter.

  ‘Please, Varik,’ she cried, throwing all caution to the wind, thrusting her face to his foot. ‘Take me yourself. I beg you to have me, only do not?’

  The blow to her back was unlike anything felt so far. It had come from the switch, a clean stroke, neatly delivered to one of the open sections of flesh between the intricate crisscross of rope. The pain was searing and did not let up even when the instrument was removed.

  ‘Sit up,’ Varik commanded, his voice as sharp as the steel of his sword. Caralissa hastened to obey so that she once more looked Senelek in the eye.

  ‘You have insulted my family and my honour,’ Varik declared. ‘You will go to my brother at once and beg his forgiveness.’

  Caralissa looked at Varik, her eyes pleading.

  The warlord’s jaw tensed slightly. ‘Go,’ he said in a voice that she was quite certain none would dare refuse, either man or beast. Pitifully, Caralissa struggled to rise.

  ‘No,’ Varik countered, pulling her back down by her bound arm. ‘You will go to him on your knees. He is high priest here, you will address him on your belly.’

  The ground brazed Caralissa’s knees. The way was long in her current condition. Putting her head to the dirt finally, the black earth clinging to her lips, she begged forgiveness at the high priest’s feet.

  Senelek ignored her. ‘I have no interest in these games, Varik. Nor in your latest plaything. I am sure, however, that she would amuse the men. I shall arrange a raffle.’

  ‘No,’ said Varik, in a voice whose intensity surprised the prostrate Caralissa. ‘If it be women they desire, than we shall find some. Order a raiding party to scour the nearby villages for wenches.’

  Senelek regarded him. ‘Indeed.’

  ‘This one is worth too much to us,’ Varik offered, rising to his feet as if to cover his show of emotion. ‘I do not wish to waste a hundred thousand pieces of gold.’