VIOLENT/NON-CONSENSUAL SEX WARNING/DISCLAIMER: It is a story portraying a Conqueror/slave relationship, so it would appear non-consensual at first. As for sexual violence, there are scenes (In parts 3 and 4) which are detailed and graphic, and may not suite some readers.
Other Disclaimers: See Part 1
SPECIAL THANKS : My humble most ardent gratitude to the excellent, most brilliant Beta reader nancyjean , whom I can't thank enough.
Comments & Feedback : MOST WELCOMED – The more you write me, the quicker I post.
By noon the trial was over. The Conqueror found the accused guilty and condemned him to death. In the verdict she rendered, the Conqueror ruled that in the Realm, life was life, even those of a slave and no one has the right to break or circumvent her law. The execution was scheduled to take place in three days time, so the condemned would have time to put his affairs in order before his death.
Just before dusk, the Conqueror's mother, Cyrene of Amphipolis, arrived at the palace. The elderly tavern-keeper came to partake in the celebrations of the Conqueror's latest conquest, Britannia.
An unusual command was delivered to the slave by the Conqueror's household steward. She was to serve supper to the Conqueror and her mother in the dining hall that evening.
When a crescent moon made its appearance in the dark sky, the slave pushed a cart loaded with grilled meat and other delicacies and the Conqueror's favorite wine into the grand dining hall. She carefully laid the trays onto the table before her Lord and her Lord's mother sitting at the table and poured the wine into her Lord's chalice. Then gracefully she knelt at her Lord's feet and waited for her Lord's instructions.
"That would be all," the Conqueror said.
As she was about to rise to her feet, the Conqueror closed her hand around the slave's wrist and lowered her eyes to the slave at her feet.
"In court today…" the Conqueror began.
She wanted to tell the young woman how pleased she was with the loyalty and discretion she had shown, how proud she was of her for fending off the counselor's attacks, how she liked the cleverness she demonstrated, and how endearing she found her slave's admission regarding the pleasure she had been receiving in her service, but all that came out of her mouth was:
"It wasn't your fault."
" Thank you, my Lord, " said the slave and a faint shadow of a smile appeared briefly on her lips. She felt the Conqueror's hand releasing her wrist and then move to cup her cheek. Her head was being slightly tilted up and the Conqueror's thumb gently caressed the bruise the slave had on her chin.
When the slave saw the Conqueror closely examining the healing bruise, the slave could barely breathe. It was the first gentle act the Conqueror had ever paid her in almost four years of service.
"It won't leave a scar, my Lord," the slave said and inwardly prayed she could hold back her tears for just a while longer, till far from her Lord's presence.
"Good," the Conqueror muttered. "My chambers."
" Yes, my Lord ," the slave stood, exited the dining hall and went to wait in her Lord's suite.
"I'll be damned," exclaimed Cyrene .
"What?!" the Conqueror frowned.
" Well, I see how attentive she is to your needs ," Cyrene said as she observed how the slave placed every plate within the Conqueror's reach and not necessarily within hers. "And I heard about the things she had said in court today…and now…"
The Conqueror emptied her chalice. " She's a slave. That's what she does, what she was trained to do.”
"She wasn't trained to steal glances at you," replied Cyrene .
The Conqueror didn't respond.
“Your brother Toris sends his regards. He wanted to come here and honor you, alas his wife's confinement was a hard one." Cyrene sounded keen to change the subject.
After supper, the Conqueror made her way to her chambers, deeply contemplating the events of the day, particularly her slave's testimony and her mother's words. The demons that had been spurring her viciousness towards her slave should have been rambling and clawing at the pit of her stomach; however, she was too mentally fatigued to maintain her resolve. She considered sending the slave, who had been waiting for her, away, forgoing service altogether, but her need was too great and too demanding to ignore that night.
She entered her chambers and saw her slave kneeling at the foot of the bed. The Conqueror passed right by her and walked over to the balcony, where a marble statue of a lion stood and breathed in the cool night breeze.
When the Conqueror returned back inside she saw her pliable servant still waiting, still kneeling quietly. The Conqueror began to disrobe. “ On the bed,” she said.
The slave obeyed. She lay on the bed and as always turned her face away from her Lord.
The Conqueror laid her naked muscular body on top of the slave's. She straddled the slave's smooth firm thigh and began to slowly grind herself against it, supporting her weight on one elbow and looking down at her slave's beautiful features.
Something was different. The Conqueror's touch was different and the slave tried as hard as she could not to panic. She felt the Conqueror pick up her pace, thrusting her sex harder against her flesh and leaving wet fire in its wake. She felt the Conqueror's palm against her cheek, prompting her to face her.
The Conqueror wanted to see.
Her large warm palm moved down from the slave's face, over her slave's breast, over her flat stomach till she reached her downy womanhood. She slid two long fingers into the hot opening. There was no denying the wetness and the spasms – an irrefutable evidence of arousal.
The slave couldn't look directly into her Lord's eyes, so she lowered them just slightly, lodging her gaze at the general direction of her Lord's high cheekbones. Nevertheless, she could feel her Lord's eyes boring into her, and her breathing became labored.
The Conqueror kept moving inside of her, deeply and deliberately, stroking her sensitive swollen nub with her thumb.
The Conqueror wanted to discover, and she always attains her desires. The Conqueror left her slave nowhere to hide. The Conqueror had never done this before.
The slave was close and she felt so was her Lord.
The Conqueror saw her slave shutting her green eyes tightly and her head tilting back and sensed the brief quiver of her body. If she had been any less attuned, even by a hair, she would have missed it. The Conqueror's climax was intense.
The Conqueror pulled out of her slave and rolled off her body.
“ I'm done,” she said as she looked at her fingers coated with her slave's abundant fluids.
The next day, after long and arduous deliberations in the Great Hall, followed by a formal supper in the dinning hall, the Conqueror retired to her chambers, where her slave had already been waiting for her. With a goblet of wine in her hand and a satin robe loosely hanging over her broad shoulders, the Conqueror seated herself in her favorite armchair and leaned back.
"The negotiations are progressing with accordance to my will," the Conqueror said with satisfaction.
At first the slave was convinced another was present in her Lord's bedchamber, for in her mind that could have been the only conceivable explanation for her Lord's speech. As she was about to reach for a blanket to cover herself, she quickly scanned the dimly lit chamber only to find that it was vacant aside from her Lord.
"About a moon ago, I marched three of my legions to Britannia and spread them thinly around its southern borders. At the same time I launched a fleet of my best ships via the ocean to Britannia's shores," the Conqueror went on and lit her favorite pipe. "The best thing of all is to take the enemy's country whole and intact; hence to fight and conquer in all your battles is not supreme excellence. Supreme excellence consists in breaking the enemy's resistance and resolve without fighting."
The Conqueror refilled her goblet then comfortably leaned back into her armchair.
"All warfare is based on deception. When we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near." She paused for a few moments as if carefully choosing her words, then said all smug, "They weren't ready for me."
The Conqueror finished her second goblet of wine, then rose to her feet and went to stand before her kneeling slave. She delved her long powerful fingers into the soft golden hair and almost absentmindedly stroked it, enjoying the feel of it against her roughness.
" If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. It you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle."
The Conqueror prompted the slave's head to lean against her thigh.
"A spy I planted in the king's bed, a concubine who used to service me, sent word that he couldn't even get a cock to stand. I knew their king was old and weak."
The slave listened carefully to her Lord's words. She delighted in her alto voice and was riveted by her wisdom. Nevertheless, she couldn't find a single viable reason why her Lord would trouble herself with speaking about such matters with her. What relevance were battle strategies to a slave?
" The outcome had been decided before a single drop of blood was shed. They surrendered with virtually no resistance. Their king's health is so frail he feared he wouldn't survive the journey from Britannia to the Realm. That is why my dealings are with his second in command."
Then it was quiet again. With the right cheek pressed against her Lord's thigh, the slave remained bewildered. Her mind was racing in search for a reason as to why her Lord would tell her such things, but she couldn't find an explanation, not even a remotely plausible one.
“ Be ready to receive me ,” the Conqueror finally said and the slave climbed up onto the bed.
After a fortnight, the envoy returned back to Britannia, which had become yet another province of the Realm. On the eve of its departure, the Conqueror retired early to her chambers and ordered her slave be sent to her.
Sitting in her armchair reading the agreement signed between the two parties once more, her slave waited on her knees to do as her Lord commands.
While on her knees, the slave noticed her Lord's breathing had become deeper and slower. She mustered the courage to glance at her Lord and saw her sleeping with a scroll covering her chest.
The slave pondered as to what should be her course of action, if any, and eventually, almost timidly, she got up and carefully disentangled the scroll from her Lord's grip and placed it on her Lord's desk. She then knelt before her Lord and cautiously took her leather boots off her feet. The slave placed the Conqueror's arm over her shoulder and helped her to her feet. She led the slumbering Conqueror to bed straining under her weight and covered her body with a blanket for warmth. The slave was overcome by an incontrollable urge to closely observe the sleeping Lord and study her peacefully seeming features. It was like watching a sleeping lion, or any other majestic predator in a serene state. The slave felt a rush of excitement and anxiousness washing over her until her heart couldn't withstand the trepidation laced with exhilaration any longer and she returned to kneel by her Lord's bed.
When the sun was high in the sky the next day, the Conqueror woke to find her slave still kneeling at the foot of the bed, her eyelids hanging heavily over her eyes and barely maintaining an upright position.
"What are you doing here?" The Conqueror's brow furrowed.
" My Lord hasn't dismissed me, " the slave said and felt her senses immediately being focused by her Lord's voice.
The Conqueror reconstructed the events of the previous night until her recollection was fully intact. Her slave took off her boots, helped her to bed, and covered her.
"Go to your chamber and rest. I shall not call upon you tonight. Starting tomorrow night and from then on, you will serve my supper in my chambers and you will take your supper at my table, unless I instruct you otherwise."
"Yes, my Lord."
"Leave me now."
When the slave exited the Conqueror's chambers that morning, she met Satrina, the Conqueror's chambermaid and former body slave in the corridor who was about to enter the Conqueror's chambers and perform her domestic duties.
"Good morning, Satrina," the slave greeted heartedly.
"Good morning to you too, Gabrielle," Satrina returned with kindness, looking genuinely surprised to see the slave coming out of her Master's chambers that time of day, for she was in the unique position to know that the Conqueror had never kept a bedmate longer than was needed to conclude her purpose. " Rough night?" she couldn't help herself and smiled knowingly.
But the slave didn't reply.
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