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.
http://www.angelfire.com/id/DarkAngel/stories.html
Part 8
The following couple of years, the slave served her Lord's suppers in her chambers most evenings and took her suppers with her. The meals were served on a low table, which was ornamented by spectacular metal flowers, and the Conqueror was leisurely sprawled on a pile of cushions with her slave opposite her. While they dined, the Conqueror told the slave about her days, about her battles, about some of the noblemen of the Realm, about where she had acquired some of her furniture and her slave drank in her words and offered none of her own, because she wasn't instructed to.
Service usually followed the joint meals. During those seasons, the Conqueror's fits of rage and savagery accompanied by reprimanding and brutal fornications had become less frequent, but weren't entirely abandoned. However, after the dark beast inside of her took its pound of flesh, it took the Conqueror a longer respite to get a grip and regain composure and better frame of mind.
The slave maintained her days' routine. She was glad when the palace healer suggested she would assist him to attend to the Conqueror's soldiers who sustained injuries on the military drilling fields on the palace grounds. To the slave, it provided a sense of contentment that her life had purpose beyond her Master's bed.
One time, when one of the captains received a major slash to his left shoulder courtesy of one of his subordinates, she asked that the strongest spirits possible would be brought to her. She dosed the wound with the intoxicant.
The captain jolted in anguish as soon as he felt the burning sting of his injured flesh and as if by instinct he raised his healthy arm to deliver a backhand to the slave's face.
" What are you doing?" The healer exclaimed and stopped the captain's arm half way to its target. "She is the Lord Conqueror's . What do you think the Lord Conqueror would do to you upon discovering a bruise on her slave's face?"
The captain slowly retrieved his arm and said to the healer: "I seriously doubt the Lord Conqueror would notice another bruise on her piece of meat, what with all the other bruises the Conqueror had left on her already." He chuckled with disdain.
The slave dressed his wound after she had neatly stitched it up.
When the captain had returned back to the field, the healer asked the slave for the reason behind her practice.
She explained to him that her first owner, a county healer, had discovered entirely by accident that when washing an open would with potent spirits an inflammation wouldn't follow. The accident had been a farmer who had suffered an injury to his chest by a scythe, asking for spirits to dull the pain and accidentally spilling the liquid on his wounded chest.
When the slave marked six turns of the seasons in the Conqueror's service, the Conqueror's mother Cyrene paid another visit to the palace.
That evening after supper on her way to her assigned chamber, Cyrene passed by the entrance to the Conqueror's chambers and saw that the door was ajar and soft light and voices came out of it.
Against her better judgment, Cyrene 's feet simply rooted themselves at the door. As she was peeking inside, she witnessed a sight unraveling before her, which she couldn't believe.
The Conqueror was reclining over a heap of cushions with her slave by her side.
"Have you ever tasted wine?" the Conqueror asked her slave.
"I haven't, my Lord," the slave replied.
"Here," the Conqueror offered and filled the slave's cup, which previously contained water, to the brim. " Try it. "
The slave, without any previous experience with wine, failed to estimate its affect in advance and drank the entire content of the cup at once. After a few moments, her face was flushed a reddish glow and her spirit was high with the wine. The sensation of being lightheaded was foreign to her.
As hot waves washed over her body, the slave felt being slowly stripped of her ability to control herself. She reached for the appetizing cherries and moved her tongue slowly around the fruit, making a show of it for her Lord's benefit.
The Conqueror was riveted by her slave's unbridled behavior, and lavished the fair-haired woman with lascivious looks that left no room for doubt.
The slave stood up just barely, removed the empty plates from the table then walked over to the cart on which they had been delivered. As she bent over the cart to arrange the dishes, she sensed her Lord's glare on her body.
In her inebriated state, the slave lacked the capacity to restrain her tongue.
"Do you see something you like, my Lord?" the slave asked, not making any effort to hide her intent.
" I adore the dimples at the apex of your buttocks. " Her Lord took great pleasure in uttering her words.
The slave lowered herself to the ground and walked on all fours, sensually swaying her backside till she reached her Lord. She turned her rear to face her Lord, lifted up her thin chiffon shift, exposing that which her Lord was fond of the most.
" For my Lord's pleasure, " the slave humbly offered, placing palms over each of her buttocks and parting them.
The Conqueror's mother was still at the door, watching them. She knew she ought not to, but she couldn't detach her eyes from the scene that was playing before her.
The Conqueror was delighted. She would not reject this precious gift. She crouched over her slave, parted her robe and slowly filled the presented opening.
As the slave felt her Lord's delicious penetration, she bucked her pelvis backwards against her Lord's loins to deepen it. The gesture was not lost on the Conqueror and to show her appreciation she licked her slave's nape, making the slave's skin tingle with fire.
As the Conqueror set a slow and lazy rhythm in and out of the smaller women beneath her, inflaming their desire, the Conqueror sent her fingers to the slave's sex. She let out a guttural groan when her fingers met with the warm wetness streaming down from between the slave's folds and down her thighs, and to further stoke the slave's arousal, she began to draw circles over the slave's center, maddeningly hardening it.
Feeling she had trespassed on her daughter and her slave's privacy too much already, Cyrene made haste to her bedchamber. The sights she had seen and her thoughts kept her awake for the better part of the night.
The following evening, as ordered, the slave served dinner to the Conqueror and her mother and after she had finished arranging the plates on the table in the dinning hall, the Conqueror turned to her and ordered she was to wait for her in her Chambers.
“Yes, my Lord,” the slave replied and exited the dinning room.
" You are breaking the girl, " Cyrene commented as she was vigorously cutting the meat on her plate.
“I'm sure I don't know of what you speak,” the Conqueror replied.
“Your chamber door was ajar last night and as I made my way to my bedchamber I saw ."
“ You did what?! ” the Conqueror tightened her grip around her knife. “I swear to you, if it had been anyone other than you I would have…”
" I saw her seducing you last night,” Cyrene stated like it was some undeniable, irrefutable and indisputable truth.
" She was drunk, " the Conqueror said and dropped her knife on the table in anger.
" The wine just loosened her tongue but it couldn't account for the content of her words to you. She didn't merely accommodate your attention, she elicited it .”
The Conqueror remained aloof.
"The lass is smitten with you, daughter," Cyrene went on to say and looked tenderly upon the Conqueror.
But the Conqueror wouldn't have it. Vexed , she slammed her iron fist onto the table, nearly cracking it with the force of the blow. "Are you out of your senses?" she scolded, as if trying to make her mother remember to whom was she speaking.
"I'm telling you this, daughter, because no one else would dare say it to you," Cyrene insisted and placed her smaller, older, wrinkled hand over the Conqueror's fist.
The Conqueror unclenched her fist and sighed deeply. " I've done things to her, mother… suffice it to say I witnessed hardened warriors crumble and wet themselves with dread and agony like infants when I did to them one tenth of the things I'd done to her. What you are suggesting is ludicrous and impossible.”
Cyrene listened to the Conqueror's words and considered them and the manner in which they were said. "Have you told her how you feel yet?"
A brief raise of the Conqueror's eyebrow was the only evidence of her surprise.
"I'm her Lord and Master, not her sweetheart . We are who we are, and things are how they should be."
Although sounding harsh, Cyrene heard profound bitterness in the Conqueror's voice, the sort one could hear from a hundred year old who had lived a lifetime of regret, and it pained her.
" You are the Conqueror. The world is what you make it, " Cyrene argued.
But the Conqueror would have none of it. "There will be no further discussion regarding this matter," the Conqueror said.
Cyrene knew that the Conqueror was at the end of her tether. "Promise me one thing, daughter, that you wouldn't punish a miserable young slave for an old woman's transgression."
The Conqueror said nothing.
" I beseech you, your Majesty, may I have your word," she pleaded.
"You have my word," the Conqueror said reluctantly .
***
After bringing Britannia to its knees, the Conqueror developed an appetite to expand her Empire further east and set her eyes to Persia .
The Conqueror spent her days and nights with her various advisors and highest ranking officers planning and plotting – preparing to wage war, examining maps, considering reports regarding the state of her finances, armory, and troops, investigating, and crosschecking pieces of information she received from her wide spread net of spies, whom she paid handsomely.
The slave spent those nights alone in her chamber wondering why she hadn't been summoned for service during the passing moon. Trying desperately not to succumb to paralyzing fear, she attributed it to the manner in which she had performed the night she got high with wine. After that night she had been under the impression her Lord had been pleased, but when Karpa had informed her she needn't bring supper to her Lord's chambers until further notice, she had begun to think she had done something to displease her Master.
Two nights before the Conqueror would move her forces out, the slave was summoned to the Conqueror's chambers.
As the slave set the table for dining, the Conqueror said, "Tomorrow at first light I move to conquer Persia .”
That statement caused the slave to halt her menial task immediately and remain motionless where she stood.
"May I, my Lord?”
"Go ahead," the Conqueror raised her eyebrow. The slave has never initiated a conversation before.
"How long would my Lord be gone for?"
"Persia cannot be conquered in fewer than five moons at the very least," the Conqueror replied, still curious as to what was behind her slave's words. As soon as she finished her sentence, she noticed something quite rare, an unfamiliar expression on her slave's face rather than her typical vacant one. The Conqueror couldn't make sense of it and in a blink of an eye it disappeared.
"It is a long time, my Lord," the slave pointed out. When she had tended to the soldiers, she had listened in on their conversations and war stories they had told, and she had learnt about the whores following army camps and plying their trade.
"Indeed it is," the Conqueror confirmed. "You will pack what you need and be ready at dawn."
"Thank you, my Lord. I will."
" Now leave. I need to conserve my strength ," the Conqueror ordered.
When alone in her chamber again, the slave was almost giddy.