The Conqueror's
Harvest
Chapter
Five
The healer grimaced as the thread was pulled through the edges of the small gaping
wound. He should have known better, but he felt it his duty to prepare and offer
an herbal pain reliever prior to work on a wound. That she had dismissed it as
unneeded was not a surprise, however, given the amount of intricate sutures, he
knew there must be a fire racing through the lord's reddened flesh.
He made sure not to spend any time gazing at any particular part of the Conqueror's
torso, and blushed as the nipple ring twinkled every now and again. He absently
caressed the end of his left ring finger, remembering how his willful mouth had
gotten him into trouble. Daedalis counted his blessings, however, feeling quite
lucky that he'd gotten away with the loss of a fingertip, as opposed to a limb,
or more importantly, his life.
'A small transgression nets you a small punishment, healer.' No, he'd decided
shortly after his unfortunate incident with the Conqueror to make no comments
that did not pertain to either the weather or medical advice. Even the latter
was a risky subject, the lord being the type who felt she could heal herself.
He noted the other faint scars dotting the surface of the Conqueror's skin, and
had to admit the woman certainly had a flare for needlework. The thought caused
the middle-aged man to smile a little wider, the difference all but imperceptible
to those who didn't know him.
The Conqueror's lips twitched as she skewered another bit of flesh, making the
stitches as small as possible.
“Hold the damnedable mirror steady, Daedalis. Perhaps you should have taken
your own remedy if you are so fainthearted?”
One eyebrow rose dangerously. “You seem somewhat distracted.”
Daedalis muttered something under his breath, and steadied his hand. The glint
in the woman's eye had him wary: it was usually a precursor to trouble. He was
determined not to give the lord any excuse to unleash her fury.
Lord Xena smiled cruelly as she tied the last knot in the catgut. Taking a cloth
and wiping the residue from her body, Xena took a few deep breaths and twisted
her torso. Yes, it was a good thing the blackguard had no idea how to use a knife.
She accepted the proffered wad of fabric, pressing it tightly against the wound,
and then smiled, as her inspection revealed no further seepage. The wound had
been somewhat deep, but could easily be dismissed as being nothing more than a
flesh wound since it had only pierced her side.
The healer swallowed deeply as the ring seemed to dance across the woman's pebbled
flesh, making a line of sweat appear over his brow.
Needing a distraction, less his body betray him, Daedalis cleared his throat and
fumbled with his herbs. “Let me get the antiseptic, milord.”
Xena grabbed the man's satchel and bottles, crammed in the thread and needles,
and all but threw them at him.
“Oh be gone, healer. I'm not a child and this is nothing more than an abrasion.”
The man opened his mouth to protest and then yelped as he was taken by the scruff
of the neck and seat of his pants and frog marched to the door.
“But Lord Xena…”
“Your body betrays you once more, little man.” And with that, she threw
the healer out into the hall.
Xena stood against the closed door, both hands becoming tight fists at her side,
as she gazed across at the entrance to her bedchambers. The guards stood stoicly,
having only paid enough attention to the goings on to discern that the healer
was no threat to their liege.
Xena pursed her lips, went to the side table, and poured out a fresh bowl of clean
water. The only sound in the room was the occasional rasp of leather and steel
as she cleaned her leathers and weapons of blood and grime. She was the epitome
of patience as she mended and oiled her equipment. However, things were not quiet
in the mind of the Conqueror. If the guards had not reported an attempt at escape,
it meant that the lovely slave still remained within her quarters. Somehow, the
thought of the young woman being dragged back down to the dungeon was an image
totally unpalatable. It left Lord Xena feeling distraught. How could such a young
slip of a girl elicit such tenderness, such care from her? Hours of bone breaking
practice on the field had neither dulled such thoughts nor dampened her need to
quench them.
Gabrielle smiled sleepily and burrowed deeper into the covers. How soft and warm
they were! Her fingers moved fervently over the satiny texture of the sheets,
almost willing the raven beauty of her dreams to reappear. Shivering slightly,
the bard tasted the woman's name in her mind once more, and then rolled over.
“Xena” she crooned, her voice rich with emotion. The image of the warrior's
dark form swam tantalizingly before her closed eyes, filling her soul with passion.
Her nostrils quivered as she remembered how the lamplight had danced across Xena's
dark, oiled flesh. She watched the play of the woman's taut muscles just below
the surface and groaned as Xena opened her gown, then slowly let it fall to the
floor.
Gabrielle wanted nothing more than to just love the Conqueror, in all of her glory,
good, bad and indifferent. Why? She wasn't even aware of the 'why' of things,
just the 'need to' that pulled at her.
Her mouth felt dry as images of Xena's proud, full breasts filled her mind. Oh,
how she longed to grasp the cold metal between her teeth.
The bard groaned inhaling the heady scent of sweat, oiled leathers and steel,
all of which immediately thrust her back into the present and her cold reality.
Her eyes snapped open, and she found herself caught by glacial orbs of blue.
With pulse racing, the blonde fought with inner turmoil. There at the edge of
the bed, skin glistening, and hair wild and free, sat the Conqueror looking dangerously
calm. Gabrielle swallowed, her mind filled with the many excuses she'd thought
of in Lord Xena's absence. She had lain cold and shivering at the foot of the
oak boards for many hours before deciding to give into comfort, if for only one
last time. If she were to die at the crow of the rooster, then she may as well
have spent her last few hours' deeply ensconced in life's last opulent respite.
She had hobbled over to the sideboard, hesitating but once, and then descended
upon the leavings of last night's supper. It wasn't so much that she was hungry
per se, even having been denied food for a good twenty-four hours, but more that
these things would be undoubtedly denied her. She had filled her senses with the
aroma of Lord Xena's robe, and reveled in the intoxicating scent that permeated
the bedding. There had been nothing but the cold hard granite to lie upon, and
although her exploration of the Conqueror's chambers had shown the cold remains
of a bath, Gabrielle had hesitated on partaking of either it or the overlarge
bed which dominated the room. Slaves did not eat the left overs from a lord's
table, and they certainly did not enjoy the deep luxury of their master's bed,
or the tepid waters left from their bathing. That was, however, precisely why
this slave decided to do so.
Hadn't she already been beaten, starved, humiliated, and then finally abandoned
to her own terrible thoughts? Hours of torment had been endured before Gabrielle
had even felt the first stirrings of sleep come creeping upon her. Guilt and defiance
lay as strange bedfellows until the blonde relinquished her tenuous hold on integrity.
She'd been born to parents who believed you had to work for everything you had.
Wanting something you couldn't have was for foolish dreamers and asking for it
was proof you were both foolish and selfish. Gabrielle had wanted to be a storyteller,
much to her parent's horror. They had tried very hard to instill high moral standards
in both their daughters, and traipsing all over the known world was unacceptable
behavior. An uneasy truce had been put into effect, but by her sixteenth birthday,
Gabrielle had already begun walking the path of independence. She had lost everything
in her desire to pursue something she could never have. Was she being selfish?
The question niggled at her, but before sleep finally claimed her, the woman had
decided that being selfish was one thing, giving away the last bastion of her
very soul was another.
Steeling herself from the blow she felt must surely come, Gabrielle clenched
her teeth and waited as one strong hand lifted towards her.
“I'm a human being, Lord Xena. If you must punish me for that, then do so,
for I am guilty of needs, and wants, and…”
Gabrielle's heart fluttered as strong fingers wove through her newly washed hair.
The sure and gentle touch of this dark woman gave the bard hope that perhaps they
could come to an understanding. She felt her head tipped back and then green eyes
locked on blue.
“…And desires?”
Gabrielle flinched as her hair was caught tightly in the woman's fist.
Xena took hold of the top edge of the sheet and slowly pulled it down, exposing
the young woman to the crisp morning air.
“You may have availed yourself of my hospitality without permission, slave,
but I shall reap the benefits.”
Gabrielle brought both hands up to cover her breasts and the Conqueror laughed.
“After our time together last night, why the pretense of humility? You are
my slave, and I'll take what I want, when I want it.”
She smiled cruelly. “And I want it now.”
A sneer painted her lips as she heard the young woman gasp while she pushed the
hands away.
“You have my passion, Lord Xena! Please…don't do this. I will give it
to you gladly. You may have my passion…”
'But you shall never have me.' Xena's eyes darkened as she remembered the bard's
words. They had been said in defiance, but now what the Conqueror heard was a
combination of threat and challenge.
“Ah, but where's the adventure in that, slave? There has never been a question
as to your seduction, only your submission. And you will submit, Gabrielle.”
Gabrielle groaned as she felt strong teeth nipping a trail from throat to collarbone.
Before she could open her mouth to protest, both wrists were gripped tightly over
her head, and the full weight of the Conqueror was upon her.
“Please Conqueror…stop this. If by submitting to you, my honour is upheld,
then I do so willingly. I submit to your will.”
A sharp cry filled Xena's ears and she smiled around a tightening bud. Her teeth
grazed across the soft, warm flesh, and then the woman's nipple was held firmly
between a flash of white teeth.
“I've always held your passion, you said so yourself. But I shall have more,
slave. I shall have all of you, body and soul.”
Gabrielle felt her legs pushed wide, briefly noting that care was being taken
with them, and then felt a fire erupt as she was entered. Biting the meat at the
side of her hand, she arched her back as the Conqueror's hot mouth moved over
her flesh, teasing and tantalizing her breasts to painful erection. A tear escaped
the corner of her eye as she felt the softness of Xena's touch, and the tenderness
belying the woman's words. She wanted to touch that softness, feel the ice melt
from the warrior's heart, and fill that space where she alone belonged. The gift
she would give had to be taken with care and love not wrenched from her body with
indifference.
“I'll submit, oh please Conqueror, stop. I'll submit to you.”
Blue eyes peered carefully, and Xena stilled her questing fingers.
“Give yourself to me. Hold nothing back.”
Gabrielle nodded as tears were squeezed through closed eyes. She would give of
herself, and in the doing, free them both.
The Conqueror groaned as a small well-formed hand pushed its way through her thick
mane and she gasped as the bard offered herself up as a lamb to slaughter.
Gabrielle found herself focusing on the little things around her, rather than
the enormity of the situation.
She had pondered her fate as she washed the grime from her body, surrounded by
the overwhelming scent of the Conqueror. How could she leave, even if she were
able? With her legs the way they were she'd have had little chance of success.
Fate had placed her in the hands of this woman, and Gabrielle would see things
through until the end.
Her buttocks and lower back stung as her body bore the full weight of the woman
above her. She felt the Conqueror's mouth on her, teasing her mind and body as
she urged her onwards, towards that place that Gabrielle dared not go.
The blonde panted fast shallow breaths as her ribs were compressed, and her knees
pushed ever higher. She wanted to moan with each droplet that slowly made its
way down the chiseled jaw of the Conqueror to splash upon her own bosom.
“You will be mine, my pretty. There will be no others after me. Ever.”
Xena maneuvered her fingers, her thrusts becoming longer and deeper, and went
back to feasting upon the young woman's breasts. Her excitement rose as the bard
struggled beneath her.
'She's a feisty one, making it all the sweeter to break.' Xena growled as the
fingers tightened in her hair.
The chords of muscle stood out in the blonde's neck as she craned backwards in
an effort to focus on anything but what was being done to her body. But the fires
of passion rose inside and she gasped, sharp white teeth pulling at her flesh.
Oh, how she wanted to give into the ecstasy that lay in wait for her. She had
never experienced such raw animalistic power before, and she found it exhilarating
and terribly frightening, all at the same time.
Her earlobe was enveloped in sweet hot fire, and the bard focused on the memories
of the torture she'd been subjected to in the prison cells. Her body quivered
in response to the Conqueror's breath playing across her body, making her all
too aware of just how deeply sensitized she was becoming. Her skin felt as if
oozing molten lava were flowing just beneath the surface. She couldn't give in.
She focused on the cold and dispassionate tone the warrior had used as the flogger
sent shivers of pain and delicious fire across her body, making her feel haunted,
as if certain doors that were never to be opened suddenly had. This was not of
her choosing, this dark path she found herself walking. And as much as she wanted
to give in to the deep Cimmerian abyss that surrounded her, Gabrielle was resolved
to deny her wants and needs for as long as she was able.
The bard's feeble attempts at denial were stilled as the Conqueror whispered her
name, the three syllables caressing her mind towards acceptance.
Xena grinned, watching the woman's eyes begin to roll back into her head, and
took the bard's mouth in a searing kiss.
Gabrielle tasted blood as her lower lip was pierced, and she wept sad, bitter
tears. Her legs ached as the Conqueror shifted position, and then she found her
leg straddled by two strong thighs. Slow gentle strokes of the woman's hand seemed
to soothe her tormented limbs and she groaned with relief.
Xena redoubled her efforts as the bard refused to give in, and pressed one strong
leg hard against the woman's swollen flesh. Her mind reeled as the lubrication
spread easily over the heated surface and she growled deeply, entangled in her
own web.
Her breath was soon caught as she felt soft hands pushing the leathers aside,
exposing her buttocks.
“Gabrielle,” she whispered again, throwing her head back.
The Conqueror found herself moving quickly over hard flesh that rose up to meet
each thrust. Her nipples tightened beneath their leather confines, her battle
dress suddenly feeling a size or two smaller than normal. Her elbows locked as
she worked feverishly over the slave, intent on bringing her to orgasm, and a
smile of peace slowly swept over her face as the woman's inner muscles and tissues
began to respond to the fiery inevitability of their union.
Gabrielle mourned the loss of what they could have had together. The Conqueror
was so intent on taking what she could that she was oblivious to what she was
already receiving. Couldn't the woman see that their paths lay together, not as
master and slave, but as friend and lover? Her heart tore and she cried as Xena
looked down at her, confident in her sexual prowess, but lacking even the common
decency one would afford a lover.
It was as if someone had doused her mind with cold water and she set her jaw with
determination.
Xena forced her eyes open, expecting to see the lust and desire mirrored in the
eyes of the blonde and time seemed to stop as hot tears splashed against her hands.
Guilt blossomed within her chest as she saw the love she had no right to expect.
She squeezed the slave's face harshly in an attempt to deny such truth, and then
a keening wail rose unbidden from her throat as her own orgasm was touched off.
“Give yourself to me,” whispered Gabrielle while the Conqueror tumbled
over the edge.
TO
CHAPTER SIX
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