Slavemaster's Woman, The by Angelia Whiting Page B

to those who sought
her sensuality. After all, it was often a man—an owner’s pleasure
to watch a woman peak with ecstasy as much as it was to experience
his own. It was a thing for her to enjoy, not flee from.
    With a smile of satisfaction, Tarken felt
Cushla arching her back. Her hips began to move and the muscles
inside of her vagina tensed before her juices flooded his fingers.
He lifted his head to enjoy the bliss in Cushla’s expression. Her
eyes were closed, her mouth slightly parted, and she was panting
softly.
    “Yes, Cushla,” Tarken whispered. “It feels
good, doesn’t it?” Again, he lowered his head intent on sucking a
breast into his mouth once more.
    “No!” Cushla Shrieked.
    Blinding light filled Tarken’s vision.
Belatedly, he felt the pain of the fist that slammed into his left
temple.”Fucking fires of hell, woman!”
    Cushla heeled his groin as she scrambled
from his lap.
    Before Tarken could fully regain his senses,
a bottle of spirits flew over his head, crashing against the wall
behind him. He slowly rose to his feet, blinking the stars from his
vision, and caught a glimpse of yet another projectile heading in
his direction. He ducked just in the nick of time.
    * * * *
    “The king is a tight wad,” Scoac looked down
at the female’s head, bobbing between his legs. He was seated on
the bed in his room, watching her dutifully sucking his cock. He
groaned. “Yes Ayia, faster.”
    “Why would you say such a thing?” Rube asked
as he stroked into the servant’s cunt from behind.
    They heard glass shattering in the chamber
next door, and what sounded like the slavemaster cursing.
    “The slavemaster gets a room to himself
while here we are...” Scoac paused to watch the girl’s tongue swirl
around the head of his shaft. “...sharing everything. Suck Ayia,
don’t play.”
    They ignored the heavy thud that shook the
wall separating them from the slavemaster’s room. Tarken was
probably beating the wench.
    “Tarken has the slave to deal with,
brother,” Rube replied slamming harder into the girl, causing her
mouth to slip away from Scoac’s groin. “Besides we have the king’s
directives to adhere to, and this makes passing information to each
other easier and less conspicuous.”
    Something crashed in the slavemaster’s room.
There was more cursing and a number of thuds.
    Ayia smiled brightly as she glanced up at
the royal. “Who is this king you’re talking about?”
    With obvious irritation, Scoac grabbed the
back of the girl’s head, bunching a tuft of hair in his fist and
yanked her head back. “You speak only when asked to, wench.” He
molded his hand around his cock and shoved it back into her mouth.
“Right now, I want your mouth full.”
    Their conversation died as both royals began
to climax, Scoac’s pumping into Ayia’s mouth, Rube’s breathing was
rapid and harsh as his cock stiffened to its fullest and his
strokes inside her cunt became shorter and swifter. They both
growled out as they came one within a light flash of the other.
    A woman’s shriek from the other side of the
wall was followed by another crash and then the sound of something
tumbling.
    Rube pulled out of Ayia, while Scoac rubbed
the head of his cock along her lips.
    “Go clean up girl,” Scoac told her. “You can
sleep here in this room this eve, on the floor in the corner. We
may want to fuck you later.” He watched the girl disappear into the
bathing room before turning to Rube. “We’ll have to check the slave
for the mark of course. No sense in angering the king by delivering
the wrong girl.”
    “We could just ask the slavemaster if she
bears a mark.”
    “Brilliant.” Scoac rolled his eyes
sarcastically. “Why didn’t I think of that? We’ll just walk up to
him and ask if his slave has a birthmark on her ass.”
    “Seems simple enough to me,” Rube
responded.
    “Yes, and sure enough to draw his suspicion.
The man is not an idiot.”
    Rube rubbed his jaw. “I see your