Slavemaster's Woman, The by Angelia Whiting Page A

physically taken Cushla by force. Still, it
amazed him how obstinate she was…solars of practice at fighting
against having sex perhaps? “You know you’ll have no choice in this
matter? Why do you so intensively resist this?”
    With his question, a vacant expression
spread across her face.
    Despite the rampant urge to sink his finger
fully into her tempting, little pussy, Tarken withdrew. Gently, he
smiled at Cushla and skimmed the finger which had probed her along
his nostrils. They flared as he drew in her fragrance, keeping his
gaze steady on Cushla’s face.
    There was no reaction from her.
    “Pleasant,” Tarken said.
    There —a slight twitch in her right
eyelid, the movement so minute, it could’ve been easily missed. The
lovely, little slave was well-practiced at hiding her feelings.
    Determined to learn every nuance in her
face, understand what every posture meant, no matter how slight,
Tarken watched carefully as he brushed his finger along his lips
before his tongue slipped through to taste it. “Your juice is very
sweet, pretty woman.”
    Cushla’s lip quivered ever so slightly, and
he felt the muscles of her inner thighs tightened briefly. She was
affected, Tarken was sure. Eventually, he would be familiar with
everything about her and that would give him the upper hand. Cushla
would be trained and submissive before she even knew he had control
of her.
    Rolling quickly, Tarken maneuvered into a
sitting position, sweeping Cushla into his lap in the process. She
yelped at the unexpected movement. Tarken wrapped his arms firmly
around her, crushing her tightly against him. Giving her no time to
react further, his head lowered, and seized her mouth, kissing her
roughly almost desperately at first, but slowing to a more
passionate kiss. Why he did such a thing, Tarken couldn’t fathom.
He rarely kissed slaves—rarely kissed any woman. When he did, it
was to explore the slave’s skill at the task, but this wasn’t an
exploration. For some unknown reason, he felt anxious to taste
Cushla’s lips.
    Odd. Despite her body’s rigid
protest, he was enjoying the kiss.
    Tarken would examine his reaction later. For
now, he wanted to know more about this intriguing
woman... slave, Tarken reminded himself as his lips slid over
hers. Cushla belonged to the king. He was only sent to train and
deliver her. For a fleeting moment there was regret in his heart,
but the callousness he learned to hide behind surfaced.
    All other sentiments were immediately gone,
and Tarken focused fully on the woman, deepening the kiss by
skimming his tongue along the crease of her lips. He heard Cushla
sigh and watched her lids drift shut. Her body softened, molding
comfortably in his arms, and her mouth now more pliable, parted
slightly. Taking advantage of her submission, Tarken dipped his
tongue inside, finding her tongue and tasting her thoroughly.
    By sacred misgivings! Her taste was
so sensuous, her scent so arousing.
    His hand skimmed down the side of her body,
and he cupped her mound. The skin there was smooth, warm and soft.
He wondered if Cushla was naturally hairless there or if her muff
was artificially made to be that way. Sliding his finger between
the swell of her flesh, Tarken felt Cushla twitch. There was no
resistance this time as he began to flick the hood of her clit over
and over again. Instead, her legs were slightly parted, inviting
him to coax her arousal, encouraging Tarken to explore her
sexuality further.
    Cushla moaned when his mouth left hers and
he skimmed his lips down the length of her body, stopping first at
her breasts to lick and suck one nipple and then the other before
moving on to kiss her stomach. His fingers, first one then two
delved in and out of her, his thumb rubbing the swollen nub that he
suspected so few of her owners cared to consider.
    With him, Cushla would learn differently. He
would show her what a real man was about. The lovely, little slave
girl would learn to be compliant, particularly