Slavemaster's Woman, The (10 page)

Tarken grabbed her wrist before she could
put anymore food in her mouth. “How did you pay for this?”

“I put it on your credit account,” she
finally said, not feeling the least bit chagrined, “I hope you
don’t mind.”

“I’ll have to have a word with the Zurkan,
and yes, Cushla I do mind.” Leaning down, Tarken placed one hand on
the table, his other hand skimming up the inside of her leg. He
stopped short of touching her between the thighs. Without moving
his hand, he looked up at her. “I have yet to implement your sex
punishment and here you are already inviting yet another
reprimand.”

“Your rub cherkin.” A server stood at the
table, holding a platter of a very generous helping of the tender
meat.

“Wrap it and send it to my room,” Tarken
ordered.

At first, the server appeared confused. His
attention shifted from Tarken to Cushla and back to Tarken again.
He directed his attention to the slave band Cushla wore, then he
nodded once, turned around and headed back toward the kitchens.

“A snack for later?” Cushla’s heart thumped.
She clenched her teeth, willing away the arousal he stoked within
her. His hand was so close, so
very
close to her clitoris.
It was taking a momentous effort to keep from focusing on it, to
divert her thoughts away from the desire to have Tarken’s fingers
playing with her there, pushing inside of her.

He put his face very close to hers. His
breath was hot against her cheek.

Cushla could think of nothing else except
how good he smelled, and how good he looked and how very, very
appealing he was.

“Why do you do this, Cushla, when you know
you will be disciplined for it?”

Suddenly, Cushla didn’t feel very hungry any
more. In fact, she felt slightly nauseous, as her brain registered
that she’d eaten too much. Her stomach wasn’t used to so much food.
Added to that was the anxiety of wondering what punishment Tarken
might conjure up next. He was different than others that possessed
her before, unpredictable and unnerving, not to mention he was way
too sexy for her state of what little well-being, even the little
she did have of that.

“Move from the bench and sit here.” Tarken
pointed to the floor.

* * * *

He didn’t wait until she complied. It was
against all odds she would anyway. As expected, Cushla attempted to
scoot away, her bottom crossing along the full length of the bench
in the opposite direction, but he grabbed her upper arm stopping
her from going any farther. Dragging her toward him and instead of
stopping when her bottom reached the benches end, he continued to
pull on her until she dropped to the floor.

She never made a sound.

Tarken let go of Cushla’s arm, stepped over
her and sat down. He didn’t look at her. Instead, he picked up the
fork and examined the food before him. His mouth twisted. He
already knew she’d lifted his chip from the pocket of his trousers.
How he managed to sleep while she rooted through his belongings
behooved him. He was typically a light sleeper, particularly with
an untrustworthy slave in the room.

When he found her in the eatery, he was
stunned at the amount of food she’d ordered and how quickly she was
devouring it. The feast was fit for a king, and he wondered how
much this extravaganza would cost him. Tarken pressed his lips
together while contemplating her behavior. It took nerve to do
this, leaving the room without permission, requesting food she had
no right to order, and yet all he could think about was how star
blasted sexy she looked in his stolen shirt.

After taking several bites, he turned his
attention to Cushla. She sat quietly on the floor, her interest
drawn to the activity in the eatery. He couldn’t tell if the
position he put her in humiliated her. Tarken had to think not. She
seemed too relaxed. “Tell me, what foods you don’t like,
mistress?”

Tipping her face toward him, Cushla’s
expression appeared confused.

Tarken assumed it was because she didn’t
comprehend why he would care, but he had his reasons.

“Durgin tea and cadia,” she answered. “It’s
all that was ever offered to drink and eat when I was in servitude
to a master on the planet Rekaw.”

“Both are nutritious. The drink and root
were commonly fed to slaves because they were cheap and easy to
obtain.

“Both are bitter and smelly.”

Tarken nodded in agreement. “That is very
true, but a healthy sustenance nonetheless.”

“And cheap,” Cushla commented. She then went
silent, turning her head away.

Even in profile, Tarken still had a glimpse
of nuances that crossed her face, everything from pensiveness to
worry to sorrow. Leaning forward slightly, he could see her gaze
fixated on the people across the room, two masters sitting at a
table and several slaves that either stood or sat on the floor in
apathetic obedience.

Their faces were somber, listless even. It
was a demeanor in slaves that Tarken was familiar with…complacent
existence. Cushla was far from being like them. She was made of
sterner stuff, and he liked that quality in her. “Do you like to be
beaten, mistress?” Tarken took another bite of his food before
casting his gaze downward to where she sat. He crooked an eyebrow
and waited for her to answer. “I’ve known slaves to instigate a
scene just to get that very thing, a beating because they enjoyed
it, a fetish of sorts.”

Cushla’s head snapped toward his. There was
molten rage in her eyes. “No, I do not like being beaten.”

“Then why do you put yourself in situations
like this?”

She shrugged at his question.

Tarken studied her face, but whatever
emotion she was experiencing was quickly erased. Still his groin
stirred. She was unlike any other female slave he’d trained. The
woman intrigued him and she was most certainly inciting his sexual
desire. “You left the room without permission.” He waved his hand
over the platters on the table. “You charged goods to my account
without permission.” His gaze fell to her body. “You wear my
clothes without permission.”

Hell holy star implosions! He wanted to
stroke his finger slowly inside of her until she came all over his
hand. “I’ve known you but a fraction of a dawning and already
you’ve compiled enough offenses to warrant severe disciplinary
measures to be taken.”

Cushla stiffened as he chastised her with
the list of violations. “Do what you must do.”

Tarken snorted. She was attempting to top
him, trying to take control by giving him permission to punish her?
The woman goaded him for her own gain, and Tarken was relatively
sure he understood what she was up to. “I could do any number of
things to you, Cushla, and be justified.”

“Justified!” The words fell from her mouth
before she could harness them. “Is it justified to own another
human being? Is it justified to beat them into unconsciousness? Is
it justified to rape them or kill them or mutilate their bodies? Is
that what you call justice? Kill me, Tarken! That is what would be
the most benevolent to me.”

Tarken was taken aback by her outburst. Not
because she dared to show anger but because the woman was
exquisitely beautiful when she was outraged. His rod stiffened.
Where there was fire there was passion and he craved to explore
every bit of the passion locked inside of her. He could punish
Cushla for this display of anger but let the matter drop. It was a
subject he would touch upon later. For now, he had other plans for
this annoyingly sensual woman.

Specifically…taking her body.

“When we return to the room I am having sex
with you. And you won’t be beaten to delirium, and you won’t be
drugged. You’ll be completely alert to everything I do to you, of
every single touch.”

Cushla’s mouth snapped shut as if she’d been
paralyzed.

He caught the line of worry that creased her
brow before it vanished quickly. Returning his attention to the
food, Tarken continued to eat, saying nothing else to her. She sat
quietly beside him on the floor and he couldn’t help but wonder
what she was thinking—plotting.

Where there was fire, one could also get
burned.

He didn’t trust her.

But he was certainly going to fuck her.

Tarken scanned the room and then fixated on
Rube and Scoac.

They were sitting at a table across the
eatery, next to a few masters and their slaves. Several other
guests were seated at their table, and the king’s cousins babbled
away like a couple of chatty taletellers.

He stared at them grimly, wondering what
they were about.

Earlier, Rube was roaming about the hostel
like he had a performance to present and boasting his identity.
And, so was Scoac. Now adorned in fresh sets of royal garments,
they continued doing the same.

“Those two accosted me in the hallway
upstairs,” Cushla finally spoke.

Tarken’s attention snapped toward her. Ire
began to simmer within, and his hand went hastily to the laser
pistol strapped to his hip. But as was his nature, the anger he
felt subsided though he was somewhat befuddled by the impulsive
reaction. Impulsivity was a rare thing for him, especially when it
came to emotions. “You were raped?” he asked calmly.

“Hardly.” Cushla continued to watch the two
men. “But they did do something very strange.”

“Tell me. What did they do?” Tarken stared
at her intently attempting to shake down the irritation, while
ignoring the relief that she wasn’t sexually touched. It was
incomprehensible to him that the thought of them touching her
irritated him more than it should. Why would he care who fucked
her? She was a slave after all.

“I thought you didn’t anger, Tarken?” Cushla
angled her head. She focused first on where he fingered his laser
weapon and then shifted her gaze to look at his face.

Tarken lifted his hand from the weapon and
rested it on the table. “Just answer my question, Cushla. What did
they do?”

“The one with the darker hair…” She nodded
toward the royals. “He pinned me against the wall. The other lifted
my—your shirt.”

“For what reason?”

“
Pifft
.” Cushla held up her hands.
“Bedamned if I know. I think they wanted to look at my ass.”

Tarken twisted his mouth, making a mental
note to ask Rube and Scoac about it later. “I am glad you weren’t
hurt, mistress.”

“Really?” Cushla replied with sarcasm in her
tone. “Because it would make you angry?”

“Because if they had taken you by force it
would’ve interfered with your training.”

“And that would’ve made you angry,” Cushla
stated smugly.

“Somewhat,” Tarken begrudgingly
admitted.

“But you never anger, Tarken.”

“No.”

“You’re angry right now.”

“Don’t let it go to your head, Cushla. It
has passed.” Having taken his fill of the food, Tarken wiped his
mouth with the napkin and dropped it on the plate in front of him.
He glanced at Cushla as he stood. Reaching, he took her by the
wrist, pulling her from the floor and leading her from the
room.

It was a shame to waste the food that
remained, but he was too hungry for other things right now.

Chapter Nine

Tarken pushed the door open and guided
Cushla in with his hand at the small of her back.

She calmly walked to the center of the
room.

When he’d awoken on the dawning, the first
thing that occurred to him was that it had been the best sleep he’d
had in solars, once he finally fell asleep. He’d stretched, taking
note that his cock was painfully stiff. Lying next to the wench all
the eve had been unbearable, torturous. She shifted and wriggled
non-stop in her sleep. Several times he nearly freed his manhood,
aching to slide into her, but fought against his urges. He wanted
her willing and writhing beneath him when they copulated, not taken
unaware.

The second thing he noticed was that when he
reached for Cushla, she wasn’t in the bed. His eyes opened
instantly, catching a glimpse of her leaving the room. But rather
than chase after her, Tarken watched the tracking device calibrated
to her band and waited to see where she was heading. Her punishment
would be determined by her actions.

“Well?” Cushla asked.

The sound of her voice pulled Tarken from
his thoughts to the present and he looked at her.

Hands on hips she was staring at him, her
expression indecipherable, her mouth slightly parted.

Tarken wanted to kiss that mouth
.
He
closed the door and watched her intently as she turned away and put
more space between them. When she strolled to the other side of the
chamber, and he couldn’t help admiring the sway of her body and
stride of her long, slim legs as she moved. Tipping his head, he
perused her backside his fingers curled as he imagined running his
hands over the curve of her sexy, little bottom, pulling it against
his pelvis, grinding into her. His cock fully hardened in his
trousers at the thought, begging for more room.

It was time.

Moving up behind her, he grasped her hips,
pulling her back to him, pressing her bottom against his groin. Her
breath caught before she went rigid beneath his touch, but he
remained this way for several moments, waiting for her to breathe
again, letting her grow accustomed to his touch. When he finally
turned Cushla to face him, her eyes swiftly dropped to the
floor.

Now she looks down
. He thought with
amusement. The shy reaction contradicted the hellion he knew she
was. His hands came up to cup her cheeks, his fingers sliding
through her hair, and he tipped her head upward. “Do not look away
from me mistress. I want to see the desire in your lovely
eyes.”

Tarken brought his mouth down to hers, his
lips gliding along her mouth. She didn’t respond, nor did she
resist, and he took that as a positive sign. He continued kissing
her until she sighed and her rigid frame yielded. Slowly, his lips
released her mouth, and fixated on her face, watching her blink
several times. She swallowed once through steady shallow breathing,
and though he wasn’t sure, Tarken thought she seemed overwhelmed.
He turned her toward the bed, once again facing her away from
him.