There was also the thought of how she was being led on a chain, like an animal, with no more dignity than one. And surely they knew what she was: a plaything of the king. They knew what he would do to her, how he would claim her. Perhaps they were thinking of how they would watch, and how they might partake of her once Sedrak tired of her.
Her cheeks were wildly red when they reached Sedrak’s tent, but she was determined not to cry. Dorva’s words on this matter had carried great weight with her: if she did not wish to be punished, she must obey.
The king was reclined upon a pile of furs, and he rose to take Leola’s leash when she entered with the guard. He waved the guard away and loomed over Leola, appraising her appearance. Leola looked at the ground, for she knew not what else to do.
But she managed not to cry.
“You come to me to obey, plaything? To serve your master, and to know your place?”
“Yes, Master,” Leola said quietly.
Sedrak grunted. “You have spoken to the woman, Dorva?”
Leola looked up at Sedrak, immediately wishing she had not: his face terrified her, with his hard edges, wild beard, and piercing eyes. “I have, Master,” Leola managed to say.
“You shall not cry, then.”
Sedrak pronounced this as though it were set stone, not a question or a command, but a matter discussed and settled, of which they would speak no more.
“No, Master,” she said, as he turned and walked to the pile of furs. He pulled her along with him, by the leash, and when they reached the furs, he pushed her forward and down, so that she had no choice but to obey his next command:
“Lie upon the furs.”
Leola obeyed, and the fur about her fell away to the ground as she did. She was now naked again, on all fours, like an animal, with Sedrak behind her, the heat of his body close to her.
Would he spank her again? What would he do?
She looked ahead at the material of the tent. She felt the tension of the leash as Sedrak tugged at it, firmly but gently. The collar tightened against her throat, and she was forced to lift her head and arch her back.
“This is very good,” he said. “Dorva has instructed you well, but it is not what I want at this moment.”
A new wave of humiliation washed over her: her bottom was tilted, on display for him, but there was no other position she could be in if he tugged at the leash this way.
Next, she heard a swish in the air, and a tiny bite on her bottom, as Sedrak lazily whipped the end of the leash onto her skin.
The whipping itself was lighthearted and did not hurt, but her bottom was sore and her skin flared with heat. And with it, she realized with humiliation, the place between her legs grew wet again. The ache between her thighs that had throbbed in her dreams started to pulse again. She closed her eyes, as if she could dispense with the world and her situation by doing so.
“Turn around, plaything, and lie upon the furs on your back with your legs spread open for me.” He released his grip on the leash, and Leola hung her head for a moment in shame: the idea of lying on her back, facing him and his penetrating stare, was almost more humiliating than her current state.
But she had no choice, except to obey. She stretched out on the furs and rolled over, glancing at him briefly before parting her legs, her cheeks burning as she felt the heat of his stare upon her body.
He was staring at her intently as he dropped to his own knees and pulled her legs apart even wider, with a grunt of approval. Leola burned with shame, with her legs spread open wide before him. She had no recourse but to allow him to do whatever it was he was going to do.
She gasped when, with two fingers, he parted the petals of her sex. When, with a third, he pressed against some place at the apex of her womanhood, she was powerless to suppress the moan that rolled up her throat and past her lips.
“You like that feeling?” He didn’t wait for a reply, his fingers turning circles around the spot.
Her toes curled as she clutched at the blankets and furs beneath her. Her jaw fell and she locked eyes with him. “Oh… oh… oh, gods, yes…” she whispered, breathless.
His circling quickened. As his finger spun faster around the spot she felt like something was growing inside her. A wave. A massive, looming wave that would soon come crashing over her and surely drown her.
She fought against it. There had to be something she could do? She closed her eyes and thought of the forests outside the keep. Tried to imagine the cool water of the sea where she swam when she was younger. It was hopeless. Nothing could suppress the overwhelming squeezing between her legs.
Her eyes snapped open. She saw his hand, the skin darker than hers by a shade, tanned and weather-beaten. The muscles in it rippled as his fingers spun quicker still. She glanced up. His penetrating gaze seemed to drive right into her belly. “Some… something’s happening,” she whimpered. Unable to help herself, she grabbed his arm with both hands.
“Something is,” he said. His eyes narrowed. “You’re going to come for your master like a good little plaything.”
“Co-come?” She forgot to add the ‘Master,’ but she was in such a state of shock and bliss that she didn’t care.
Thankfully he seemed not to, either. His finger pressed harder against the spot.
She
