The General's Virgin Slave (7 page)

"I don't believe in beating my slaves,
or starving them," said Marcus. "They work better and with more
loyalty when happy and well fed."

She was surprised to hear this. What
about the old man with the flagellum, she thought. Was it just for
show?

"Then you're a fool, general. She'll
never perform with total subservience until you've starved her. My
slaves will do anything I command, no matter how base and
degrading," he laughed cruelly, "for they soon learn not to risk my
ire by refusing, sulking, or delaying my carnal
pleasures."

Taking this as a threat, Amanda
quickly lowered her mouth over the wide crest of his penis and
sucked mechanically.

Good thing her master only had one
dinner guest, she mused, for her throat muscles were
tired.

Suddenly she felt hands on her hips,
moving her bottom. Feet impatiently pushed her knees wide apart
again.

It must be Marcus looking at her
pussy. That thought gave her a thrill. How weird. She already
wanted to please and excite him. She'd known him less than a day
and all he'd done was be rude, arrogant and bossy. But there was a
little teasing hint of vulnerability inside that giant frame. A
hint that he was not all fat-headed beast, contrary to first
appearances. Under all that bluster she had glimpsed a little
boyish uncertainty.

He didn't speak, but briefly ran a
finger over her labia. Was he checking to see if she got wet? Ha!
Jealous much?

The governor had no rhythm. He thrust
in and out roughly and noisily, with great impatience, like a
spoiled five year old trying to break a rocking horse. Amanda felt
a wave of nausea and closed her eyes rather than look at his belly
and thighs.

The governor was ready to come much
sooner than his host, and pulled out before he spilled. "Astride
me, slave," he gruffly commanded, grabbing her hair. "I'll finish
inside that cunt."

But Marcus had swiftly pulled Amanda
back by her chain. She slid on her buttocks to sit at his feet
again.

"Bring her here," Gaius Damianus
demanded, shaking with fury and lust, his lips straining over his
teeth. "I'll split her seal open, break that cunt in
properly."

"No," came the calm reply. "She is
mine."

"Damn you, general!"

Unable to hold back, the other man
shot his load in a high arc, directing it over her breasts in thick
ropes that slashed back and forth as he groaned and jerked his
prick with one hand.

She stared, indignant at
the mess he made. Gaius looked back at her, his lips twisted in a
cool smirk of disdain. "Say, thank you, sir," he snapped at her. "I
just anointed you with my seed. It should have been up inside you,
if your master was not such a selfish prick tonight and in the mood
to endanger our friendship. Say
thank
you
and come kiss my ring,
slut."

Amanda refused without words, her
expression enough to tell him what she thought of his "anointing."
His eyes were brilliant as an electrical storm, surveying her with
a fierce intensity that prickled over the little downy hairs on her
arm. Marcus once again set her bare bottom on his thigh and she
felt his hard muscle pressed against her wet sex.

"I do not approve of your young
slave's manners," the governor growled.

"She's new and has much yet to
learn."

"Do not delay her training. Or else
give her to someone with a firmer hand. She wouldn't get away with
any defiance under my management."

Marcus said nothing to that, but
gestured for the slave-master to wipe her tits dry and clean again
with a rough cloth.

"And I never expected you to defy me
either, Marcus Cassius. It is not wise to earn my
displeasure."

A thick silence, heavy with portent,
fell over the room.

The governor sprawled on the opposite
couch, his cock flaccid, resting over one thigh. "I will let you
get away with it this once and take no reprisals against you. I
daresay you will tire of her soon and a woman is not important
enough for the two of us to quarrel over."

"I agree, Governor." Marcus laid a
hand over her leg and she felt him grow very still.

"But when you are done with her, you
will pass her on to me," said the governor with cold, clear
precision. "Because I want to breed her." Alarmed, Amanda drew a
breath. "I'll have a battalion of good strong boy slaves out of
that mare. She looks like a fighter." His eyes narrowed, fixed on
her nipples as they jutted and bounced under Flavian's
cloth.

Amanda would have spoken, but Marcus
squeezed her thigh gently and then began to stroke her leg. "We'll
see, Governor."

"We will discuss price
later."

"Yes. Another time."

Amanda had never expected to be
bargained over in her life. She'd always been the quiet, chunky
girl in the corner, reading a book. Forgotten about and overlooked.
The only value she had in the real world was her intelligence, but
here that meant nothing.

And here her body was admired, shown
off, argued over by men of power. She was prized, an object of
desire.

But these men were very different to
the slack-jawed, beer-swilling boys she knew at home.

Sitting proudly on the general's
broad, hairy thigh was highly arousing and she could barely breathe
suddenly as his essence seemed to surround her. It was not only in
her throat and on her tongue. It was on her skin, on her hair. It
cloaked her in a mantle of protection, for she knew instinctively,
that while she had his interest no harm would come to
her.

With Marcus Cassius, her captor, a man
from another time, a Roman brute who put her in a dog collar, she
felt safe.

Ironically.

"Let me consider her price, Governor,"
he said finally. "I will give it some thought."

This, fortunately, seemed to placate
the other man and he turned his attention to the platter of fruit
and pastry.

Amanda looked at Marcus. If she wanted
to stay with him, she'd better please him. Instinct told her he
would be the kinder master of the two men.

For as long as she stayed in this
strange dream, of course.

Chapter
Four

He was appalled by this turn of
events. While he had expected some interest from the governor, he
could not have predicted this much. Marcus could kick himself.
Should have hidden her away, not shown her off like that. But how
could he have known she would spark the dreary governor's erotic
fancies as much as she did his own? Gaius Damianus liked female
slaves and kept plenty, but he usually visited Marcus just to bore
him rigid with dull conversation. Had never looked twice at the
slaves the general kept. Never offered to trade any.

Before this.

Although he kept his expression bland,
inwardly Marcus cursed. That prideful side of his character—
something his madre had warned him about before— had bitten him in
the foot.

What was it about this particular
slave that caused two sensible, strong, practical men to behave
this way?

Abruptly realizing he'd been stroking
her leg, he stilled his hand. But try as he might, he couldn't
bring himself to remove it from her soft, smooth, warm
thigh.

She sat silent and subdued throughout
the remainder of the governor's visit and after the meal Marcus
took her to his bed.

"Sleep, Axa. I will not need you
further tonight." He padlocked her chain to the iron ring at the
foot of his bed, but she did not lie down demurely and close her
eyes. She stood looking at him boldly, questioningly. "What is it,
slave? Tonight I will allow you to ask me one more
question."

"Just one?" She folded her arms.
"Don't you think I might have more than one?"

"There is no reason for many
questions. I have explained your place here and who I am. You need
know nothing more."

"But I
want
to know more."

He sighed and turned to pour himself a
glass of wine from the jug by his bed. "Slaves, Axa, do not have
wants, other than the desire to please me. However," he took a
hearty gulp of wine, "you may ask your question, because then I
have some for you in return. Since you are not tired."

She blinked and relaxed her arms at
her sides. "Why did you risk making the governor angry?"

"Ah," he laughed softly, "that I
cannot answer. I wonder myself why I did that."

"
Would
you sell me to
him?"

He walked back to the bed and offered
her a drink from his cup. "That is two questions, Axa. I told
you—"

"But you didn't answer the
first!"

Marcus couldn't help but smile. He was
not going to answer her second either. Did he look like a
fool?

Frankly, he started to feel like one.
Mayhap he'd drunk too much wine.

He ran a finger slowly down the side
of her face. Her skin felt like the finest silk under the rough pad
of his fingertip. "I didn't say I'd answer, Axa. I said you may ask
me."

"That's. Not. Fair." She shook her
head at the wine, so he finished it. Then he put his hand under her
chin and raised her sulky lips to his mouth.

"Time to kiss your master," he
whispered. He needed it suddenly. He needed it as a drowning man
needed air.

"While I still belong to you?" she
asked archly. "Before you cast me aside for one of the other slave
girls."

That made him scowl. She slyly fished
for this assurance, and he would not fill her net, because if he
did it would go to her head and make her even more proud, which was
never a good thing in a slave. Besides, it was very unlike him to
feel this attachment to a female slave, let alone one he had only
just acquired. "I haven't even had you yet, woman, but don't try
your luck with me, or I'll send you to him now."

Here came one of those gusty sighs
again and the rolling of the green eyes. He almost knew to expect
it already.

Her lips parted, but before she could
speak, he lowered his mouth and kissed her hard. The cup fell from
his fingers, crashing to the marble floor, clay shards spinning in
all directions. He put both hands around her face, holding it
firm.

* * * *

Amanda Adams had never been kissed
like this. Had any girl of her time ever experienced
this?

It was hungry, demanding, rough. She
tasted wine on his tongue and the sweet honeyed fruit he'd eaten
for his last course. These were the same lips that had sucked her
nipples as she lay under him amid the dead leaves and tree roots of
the forest. There was nothing gentle about it, yet she'd always
thought of a kiss as something soft, romantic.

She could not describe his kiss in
those terms.

It took her breath, made her pulse
race, sent every nerve in her body into a wild, pagan
dance.

His kiss turned her into Axa, the
"feral princess".

She clung to his tunic, wishing he was
naked, his chest bared for her hands. It was a grinding need, a
white-hot desire that left her trembling. All that rippling power
under her palms, a hard body developed not on gym machines, but in
battle and the practice field. Muscle with purpose.

A man with purpose and
power.

And then he lifted her to his bed and
she thought, for one glorious moment, that he had changed his mind
about not "needing" her further tonight. She should be panicking,
trying to wake up from this...whatever it was. But she didn't want
to. She was on fire and it was too late for fright. The flames were
a part of her and she needed them — she needed him—to
breathe.

Was this what they called Stockholm
Syndrome? Achieving fondness for one's captor out of the need to
survive?

But Marcus did not proceed with
another kiss. Instead, he dropped her on his great bed, covered her
with a sheepskin and left her to sleep.

"Hey, where are you going?" she
exclaimed, sitting up, her lips still tingling.

He looked at her in surprise. "I have
my horse to settle for the night." From the way he immediately
shook his head, she guessed he didn't know why he answered her. He
seemed annoyed, but she suspected it was not all directed at
her.

"Don't you have grooms to do
that?"

"No centurion worth his salt leaves
his own horse to the care of a groom, Axa."

"Oh."

"Now sleep."

As if it was that easy! "Well, I can't
go anywhere, can I?" She pouted, motioning at her chain, which he'd
padlocked to the ring at the foot of his bed.

"No. You cannot." He grinned suddenly,
looking unbearably handsome. "But when I come back, if you are
good, I might take the collar off. For a little while." And then he
was gone, striding out through the door.

When he came back...he
might...