Mastered By Love (10 page)

“
If someone requests your
name,” he said, “this is how you answer. I am Tariza, slave of
Prince Dario Saturnios. Now you say it.”

Goddess. He was really going to make
her say that? She flicked a glance toward his riding crop,
tap-tapping against the side of his booted calf, and
winced.

“
I am Tariza, s-slave of
Prince Dario Saturnios,” she repeated thickly.

“
What is your name,
slave?”

“
I am T-tariza, s-slave of
Prince Dario Saturnios.”

“
Are you a princess of
Concordia?”

She closed her eyes and
swallowed. “No.”

Saturnios smacked her left
hip with the crop. “No, what?”

“
N-no, Master.” Goddess,
that word was hard to force from her lips.

“
Very good, Tariza.” This
time, he not only kissed her but cupped her breast, shaping the
sensitive curves and pinching her nipple until she gave a little
moan of response. “You see, when you obey, you receive pleasure.
When you disobey, you receive pain. Wouldn’t you rather have
pleasure?”

“
Yes,” she said
unsteadily.

“
And I would rather give
you pleasure than pain. Remember that. I enjoy rewarding
you.”

Of course he did. His
rewards involved mauling her flesh, something that never failed to
sexually excite him. She’d used similar rewards for her own slaves
– all male, of course. Did he think she knew nothing of slave
training?

“
It’s different when you’re
on the slave side of things, isn’t it?” he said softly, as if he’d
read her mind.

“
Yes.” She had the strange
feeling she was falling, falling into a bottomless ravine from
which she would never escape.

“
Now we
practice.”

He made her drill,
repeating the four rules endlessly, giving her name at random
prompts, fetching things for him. Every time he gave an order, he
required her to respond with
yes,
Master.
They drilled for what seemed like
forever, until her responses felt automatic and she no longer
hesitated.

“
You’re doing well,” he
said finally. “The other two rules I want you to learn today are
how to sit and how to stand.”

I already know those
things.
She kept her thoughts to herself.
Saturnios wanted her to present herself the same way that blonde
did. What was her name? Lola.

“
You will stand with your
feet hip-width apart, your head bowed and your hands clasped. Do
it.”

With an inward sigh, she complied. The
crop traced a line up her back, around her shoulder to her
jaw.

“
You’re getting ready to
scowl, slave. Amend your expression.”

What did he mean, scowl?
She wasn’t scowling.

He whacked her on the ass,
drawing a squeak from her. “Relax your jaw and forehead. Assume a
pleasant expression.”

Tariza blinked rapidly.
He’d punished her for not looking sweet enough? Her eyes pinched
shut and her jaw tightened even more as she fought back
tears.

The crop tapped against the
leather of his boot. “Rule number one: do as you’re told. Fix that
expression.”

“
I hate you.”

Saturnios hit her smartly
on first one thigh, then the other, hard enough to draw tears from
her eyes. “I will mark you if you disrespect me again.” Another
series of strikes followed his words.

She swallowed hard. “I’m
sorry! Please stop hitting me.”

“
Use the proper form of
address.”

“
I’m sorry,
Master.”

“
Better.” He gripped her
chin, turning up her face for his kiss.

The tent flap opened and
his squire poked his head inside. “Dinner, milord.”

“
Good. I’m starved.”
Saturnios waved the young man into the tent.

Paolo sent Tariza one of
his sidelong leers as he bore the dinner tray to the table. He set
out a plate laden with slices of roasted game bird, mashed root
vegetables and miniature candied apples, along with freshly baked
bread and a carafe of wine. Tariza’s stomach rumbled.

There was only one place
setting. Weren’t they going to feed her? Her stomach growled again,
even more loudly.

Saturnios tossed a canvas
cushion on the tent floor next to his chair. “Rule number five,
Tariza: at meals, you kneel beside the master’s chair and take food
from his hand.”

She stiffened. He would deny her a
plate of her own?

Saturnios tapped her under
the chin with his crop. “Fix that expression, slave,” he said, his
voice soft yet menacing.

She blinked and consciously relaxed
her jaw.

“
That’s better. Don’t
worry. You won’t go hungry. Take your place now.”

“
Yes, Master.” Her skin
crawled with the sensation that Paolo was watching her, listening.
Smirking.

Tariza knelt on the cushion, taking
the position Saturnios had taught her. The heater had been placed
close to provide warmth to the diners and its blessed heat washed
over her, keeping the autumn chill off her nakedness.

“
Will that be all, milord?”
Paolo said.

“
Yes. You’re
dismissed.”

She couldn’t tell whether
the squire sighed with relief or disappointment. All she knew was
that she was glad to see him go.

Saturnios took his seat. Tariza
watched out of the corner of her eye as he cut a bite of the
poultry and put it in his mouth. He immediately cut another and
held it to her lips. She opened her mouth to accept it.

“
Very good. Nearly perfect
form.” He smiled down at her and stroked her head. A bewildering
welter of resentment at his high-handedness and pleasure at his
approval rose up in her heart.

To be subjected to male
control, dependent on male approbation – what had she done to so
offend the Goddess that she deserved this punishment, this abject
shame?

Saturnios happily chewed his food,
apparently oblivious to her turmoil. He speared another bite of
poultry and offered it to her. It tasted delicious, full of garlic
and herbs. She had to admit the Saturnians knew how to
cook.

“
Try this,” he said,
offering her a bite of the mashed roots.

They were fluffy, buttery
and sweet. She hadn’t eaten decent food in weeks – not since
beginning her field assignment.

“
What do you
think?”

She looked up at him,
startled.

“
I didn’t give you
permission to look at me, slave.”

Tariza ducked her head.
“I’m sorry, Master.”

“
Did you like the
food?”

“
Very much,” she said
without looking at him.

“
I like it, too. Have
another bite.”

Next he gave her a sip of wine,
holding the goblet to her lips. She kept her eyes downcast as she
drank. The last thing she wanted right now was more strikes of the
crop.

“
You’re doing remarkably
well. I knew you would if you gave it an honest effort.”

It’s only fear of that
damned riding crop keeping me in line.

But was that really true?
Didn’t she yearn for that tone of warm approval in his voice?
Didn’t she long for the reward of his kiss or caress?

His generous offerings of the
un-watered wine blunted her sense of shame and despair, replacing
it with mellow relaxation. She could puzzle out her feelings later.
Right now she was warm and well-fed and that was enough.

She knelt beside him,
drifting in a haze of contentment. His big hand stroked the top of
her head, toying with her hair. She gave a little sigh because it
felt good. She wouldn’t think about what any of this meant. She
wouldn’t think about anything at all.

“
Come up here.” His voice
was husky.

“
Milord?” She chanced a
quick glance up at him.

He patted his thighs.
“Here.”

Tariza rose. He pulled her
onto his lap. She’d never sat on a man’s lap before. It gave her a
strange feeling of vulnerability and safety that made her tremble
and look away from him.

Saturnios caught her chin,
guiding her face back toward his. “You’ve done well today. So well
I think you deserve a reward.”

His mouth slanted down across hers,
hot and wet and possessing. Tariza surrendered without a thought.
She simply opened for him, moaning as his tongue plundered
her.

Deep in her body, she ached. Her pussy
throbbed and moistened for him. She felt so empty, the longing to
be filled making her squirm and roll her hips against his powerful
legs.

He gave a low laugh, still kissing
her, and picked her up and tossed her face down on his bed. His
hands spread her legs apart and his mouth found her sex. She cried
out loudly as he tongued the sensitive flesh. She tipped up her
pelvis to give him better access, shamelessly begging for his
attentions.

He flipped her over on her
back. “I’m going to fuck you now, Tariza, and while I fuck you I
want you to chant something for me.”

She just wanted his cock, needed it,
needed it now. But Master wanted her to talk ... words ... she
tried to gather her scattered thoughts.

“
What is it,
Master?”

“
I want
you to say
I belong to Master
Dario. I am Master Dario’s slave.
Can you
remember that?”

“
Yes.” Could
she?

“
Repeat it for
me.”

“
I-I belong to Master
Dario. I am Master Dario’s slave.”

“
That’s right, Tariza.” He
pinched her nipple, causing a rush of pleasure in her womb. “Very
good.”

A sudden thrust of his hips sent his
cock plunging deep inside her. She threw her head back with a cry
of joy.

“
Say it,” he growled,
pumping her.

“
Oh! I belong to – oh! –
Master Dario. I – oh! – I’m Master’s slave.”

“
Good.” He groaned on
another thrust. “Again.”

“
I belong ... Master ...
Dario! Oh, Dario! I ... I am ... slave.” She hardly knew what she
was saying.

“
My. Slave.” He stared
fiercely into her eyes as he fucked her with ruthless strokes of
his cock. “Again. Say it again.”

“
Belong to ...” She moaned
as her eyes rolled back in ecstasy. “Dario! I am ... Dario’s –
Master’s – slave. Oh, please! Please!”

The power of speech abandoned her. She
screamed, writhing beneath him. Dario roared, shuddered, spilled
himself inside her. His big body sagged over hers, still trembling,
his dark head lowered near to hers.

Tariza turned her face. Her lips met
his hand where it rested against the bed, supporting his weight.
She kissed him, kissed his thumb, his wrist, as her arms came
around him and clasped him to her.

“
Sweet girl,” he murmured.
He captured her mouth in a hot, penetrating kiss. “My sweet
treasure.”

She felt so ... frighteningly good. It
had been almost liberating to say those words. How could that
be?

“
I am
Master Dario’s slave,” she whispered, and felt the statement echo
in her soul.

The next
morning they set off for Saturnios, Tariza riding
in front of the prince as before. The weather had turned bitterly
cold. He’d given her layers of warm woolen clothing taken from the
other slaves and she was so thoroughly bundled she hardly looked
female at all. His arms around her, his body at her back sheltered
her from much of the cruel mountain wind and the rocking motion of
the horse’s gait helped to lull her into a sense of safety. Really
it was perverse how safe she sometimes felt around the prince, when
he so delighted in cropping her.

“
Tell me,” his voice
rumbled in her ear. “Did you learn to do anything in Concordia
besides fight?”

“
Of course I
did.”

“
Such as?”

“
I – I’m an expert
horsewoman.”

“
Anything more feminine
than that?”

Tariza gritted her teeth in
sudden annoyance. “What’s wrong with women knowing
horses?”

“
Nothing, necessarily. But
I was thinking of more indoor pursuits.”

“
Like
needlework?”

“
Exactly.”

“
I hate
needlework.”

He laughed softly. “Why am
I not surprised?”

“
I have no
idea.”

“
Is there anything else you
know how to do? I’m already aware you don’t dance.”

Tariza began to twist in
the saddle so she could look at him, then remembered that was
forbidden. “I dance. Just not ballroom dances.”

“
Ah.” He sounded amused. “I
see.”

“
Why do you want to know
this, anyway?”