“Bring me the girl!”
A naked female squirmed between two tall warriors, each three times her weight and near twice her height. She was lifted with ease, large hands wrapped around her upper arms swinging her through the air. They pushed her to her knees, but she scrambled to her feet immediately to face her foes standing up. The warriors made to push her back down to a submissive position, but stopped at a second gravelly command.
Sariah’s figure was lit by the light of a large fire. Dark hair cascaded down her back, lazy waves ending just above the dimples at the base of her spine. Her breasts were full, nipples erect with fear more than excitement. Her bottom was pleasingly round, her hips wide with feminine elegance. Her legs were smooth and toned, thick shapely thighs indicating an active life of work. Her face was half-hidden in the shadows cast by the fire, one wide eye under an arcing dark brow, a flaring but still delicate nostril, a full upper lip curled in derision. Her beauty was that of the wilds, an untamed appeal that made every man surrounding her look upon her with a hungry gaze.
Ringed by their bulk and brawn, she seemed all the more vulnerable. She was no concubine, no slave girl traded at market, just a simple girl taken from the flock she had been tending on the steppes. At that moment she should have been under the warrior who had drawn the long straw at her capture, but instead she was standing before Griffen, the barbarian king. Griffen, the man whose name made warlords quake. The man who was slowly but surely sweeping across the land with ever-growing armies, turning barbarians to his will.
She trembled, her eyes firmly on the sand beneath her bare toes as the king traced his finger over a patch of red on her left cheek and lifted it to the light. “The blood of my men,” he pronounced in a deep baritone. “And yet there is not a scratch on you.”
She risked lifting her head and looking at his face. His eyes were amber in the leaping firelight, the same hot golden glow that lit the naked curves of her body. Sariah bowed her head and began silently mouthing a prayer to the god of the underworld, beseeching him to welcome her with open arms.
The king put his finger underneath her chin and raised it so that he could look upon her with a searching gaze. She found herself looking back at him with the fixated stare of a cornered mouse. This was King Griffen, lion of the North who at three and thirty years of age was remaking the world in his image. He was a man she had never imagined she would see, let alone stand before him stripped bare. This was the face of the end, and she could not tear her eyes away.
A broad forehead spoke to intellect, the hawkish rise of his nose and the slightly angled set of his eyes over high cheekbones gave him a keen expression that made her feel as though every part of her were being weighed. There was no stubble coating the angular, powerful jaw. He was freshly shaved, his long dark hair bound behind his head. He smelled like incense and brutality.
To Sariah’s surprise, there was no anger in the hard lines of his features. He looked… curious.
“Your people are sheepherders, aren’t they, my little lamb?” The question was purred softly, his voice like liquid honey trickling down her spine.
“Yes.” She whispered the response, her mouth dry from fear.
“How then, did you learn to use a blade that way? Three of my men and not a mark upon you…” He let the question hover between them.
Sariah shook her head wordlessly. She did not know how she had done it. After being captured in a night raid, shackled in a cage, and chosen by a man who stank of meat and sweat, she had been at the very end of her thread of sanity. She had not known where she was. She had not known what had become of her family. She had not known anything but that she would not part her thighs for the warrior who had abducted her from the fields where she had been tending her flock and had taken her back to the outskirts of the king’s encampment. When he had drawn close with lust in his eyes and alcohol on his breath, it had been the work of a minute to take his dagger and unmake him. It had happened almost without her intention, as if she were the mere observer of an action she had never imagined she would take.
“You have no answer for me?”
“I…” She shook her head again, then closed her eyes and returned her gaze to the ground, her lips moving swiftly as she resumed her prayer.
“No gods will save you from me,” Griffen said, flicking his fingers under her chin to make her look up again. “I will have my answer.” He ground the words out with a rumble that reverberated through her naked breast.
“I have no answer to give,” Sariah said in a soft voice that trembled with adrenaline and fear. “My hand was guided.”
“Guided,” Griffen laughed. He raised his voice to address his generals. “A shepherd girl takes the knife of a warrior and turns it upon him and two others who attempt to apprehend her, three men trained with blade and blood. She slays each and every one of them where they stand. What am I to make of this?” He lowered his eyes to her again. “Are you an assassin, lamb?”
The trembling was becoming impossible to contain. She shook from her fingers to her toes. It was one thing to have courage in the heat of the moment, another to have it when standing alone before a man who had conquered thousands. King Griffen was far from his palace, expanding his holdings through war as was the way of kings. And she, she was nothing but a scrap of feminine resistance with no more ability to resist him than a spider’s web could resist being brushed away.
Her answer was a whimper, which did not impress the king in the slightest.
“You play at fear now,” he said. “But I have seen fearful women many times before. They fall upon the floor and wail for mercy. You have asked for none.”
“You are not known for mercy,” she said, finding her voice.
“No,” he said, his finger tracing casually down her left breast. “I am not. And shepherd girls are not known for their skills in battle. I think, tonight, we will surprise one another.”
His mouth suddenly descended upon hers, his arm slid around her waist, and he hauled her slight figure against the length of his hard body with a rough passion that disarmed her. His lips met hers with rough insistence, parting them for his tongue, which slid into her mouth and began lashing hers.
Shocked to her core, Sariah felt a flash of fire in her loins. The king’s black silk robes made her legs slide easily apart, her clit pressing against the hard line of his thigh, instantly sparking a primal arousal that chased all thought from her mind.
A cheer went up from the surrounding men as the king made free with her, his hand meeting her bottom in a thunderclap. She cried out as he pulled his mouth from hers and pronounced his judgment.
“You will be punished, Sariah,” he said. “You will repay me in sons what you have cost me in warriors. You were right to tremble, for you will meet a sword tonight, but one of flesh—not steel.”
As he spoke, she felt the thick length of his manhood against her belly, impossibly long and hard underneath that black silk shroud.
Sariah pulled away, not out of disgust as she had when the alcohol- and sweat-stained warrior had pressed his leering face to hers, but out of virginal fear. She had never known a man in the carnal sense; like most young women in her village she had preserved her virtue for the marriage bed. It was not worth risking an unplanned birth to an unnamed father in lands such as those her family tended.
The thought of her family made rage rise again. The man standing before her might be a king, but he was not her king. He was the leader of bandits, powerful perhaps, but no real authority over her. Some stirring of courage made her lift her eyes to his handsome visage, pure defiance in her gaze.
Griffen let out a laugh. “Look at you,” he said. “Such a thing I have not seen in all my travels. A shepherd girl who dares reject a king.”
Sariah braced herself for a more vigorous response. Many men so slighted would become aggressive and beat a disobedient slave. Not Griffen. He released her squirming, trembling form and let her stand before him, her eyes locked on his in an attempt to understand what might happen next.
“Always look predators in the eyes.” Her father’s warning came floating back to her. “And never, ever turn your back. A lion will respect courage, but devour prey. Look him in the eye. You may still die in his jaws, but you will die well.”
Those words were emblazoned on her soul. If fate decreed that she was to die, she would die well. Honor above all, even to a simple shepherd girl.
She stood alone before Griffen, smaller than he, weaker than he, and much more vulnerable. His men were ranged around them, but she sensed she would have felt just as vulnerable if it had only been the two of them in the middle of the grassed plain.
She tried to gauge his intent, but Griffen was quite inscrutable. The hard plane of his cheek twitched as he looked at her.
“You have taken my interest,” he declared. “What is your name?”
Her name rose to her lips in a ragged whimper. “Sariah.”
“I would see what you are capable of, Sariah,” he said. “I wish to know precisely how my men died, so I will make you a bargain. I will give you a knife and you will face me. If you can draw but one drop of blood, I will give you new clothes, a horse, and enough gold to buy a thousand sheep.”
It was a bargain too good to be true. The rumble of laughter around her spoke to that. She gave him a wary look, expecting some kind of trap or lie.
“I keep my word,” Griffen said, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement at her expense. “The terms are as stated. There will be no tricks. I wish to see firsthand what you did to my men. I wish to see how a little lamb bests a lion.”
Sariah did not know how such a thing had happened. If he hoped for a demonstration of some secret prowess, he would be disappointed. The only training she had ever received was in how to dispatch a predator if one were bold enough to attack the sheep while she was watching them.
“The throat and the belly,” her father had told her before his death. “All else is wasted effort.”
Sariah was her parents’ only child. She had been raised much like a boy in order to perform the duties of a son. That meant looking after the sheep instead of learning the tasks of hearth and home. So many of her most precious memories were on star-filled nights when she and her father had tended the flock under an eternal sky.
When she was seven she had been taken to the forest temple and dedicated to the huntress, the goddess in the western sky who danced in the heavens and watched over all those who spent their days in the wilds. It was then that she’d been given her dagger and her shepherd’s crook. A year later, her father had gone out with the sheep and not returned. The flock had been found wandering by one of the other villagers and herded home, but her father was nowhere to be found. Several years later, scraps of his clothing were found in a wolves’ den.
It was then Sariah had renounced the goddess who had allowed her father to be taken. She had stood alone with her sheep, devoid of protection night after night, day after day, growing toward the stars for another decade.
She would have lived on the plains peacefully forever, tending her sheep if not for the rough men who had crossed her path, scattered her sheep, and snatched her from her flock ten years to the day after her father had gone missing. Human wolves were no less terrifying to her than the beasts must have been to her father, but she had fought back and now she stood before the king who ruled those men and prepared to sell her life dearly. She did not particularly relish the notion of doing battle with a man many times her size, but it was her only possible escape and Sariah wanted her freedom in that moment more than she wanted her life.
She held her hand out, palm up, waiting for the blade he had promised.
Griffen nodded, respect in his eyes as he tossed a dagger into the air, caught it lightly by the meat of the blade and pressed the hilt into her waiting hand.
Sariah closed her fingers more tightly around the hilt and felt the weight of the weapon. It was a small comfort, though she still shook from head to toe in contemplation of the task before her. If Griffen could be trusted, she was on the brink of heaven or hell. The notion of returning to her people with her virtue intact, her horse laboring under the king’s gold, was an alluring one.
A flurry of black silk made her gasp at the same time as a roar of laughter erupted around her. The king had disrobed, leaving the length of his impressive frame bare. Sariah stared at his nakedness, her eyes becoming wider than they had ever been. She now understood why kings were revered as gods. Griffen’s body was nothing less than heavenly. He looked as though he had been sculpted by the hand of some divine being to be as elegantly powerful and regal as possible.
Her eyes ran down from his broad shoulders to the chest devoid of hair, slabs of muscle giving way to the ripple of his abdominal plane, narrow but powerful hips, and then his cock, long and thick at the apex of his thighs. Sariah averted her eyes, a hot blush passing over every part of her. She felt her palm begin to sweat, little beads of liquid making the hilt of her blade slip in her hand.
“Now we are both naked,” he said with a rakish wink. “It will never be said that I had the advantage of clothing where you did not.”
One of his attendants bought a dagger forward. Griffen waved it away. “I have no need of weapons with this one,” he said, his gaze holding Sariah in thrall. “And I certainly would not want to mark that skin.”
He extended his hand toward her and beckoned with one crooked finger. “Come, lamb,” he said. “Earn your freedom.”
She hesitated. It was not in her nature to be the aggressor, even for all the gold in the land.
“What is the matter, lamb? Have you lost your nerve?” Griffen chuckled. “Let me tell you the second part of our bargain. If you can draw blood, you will have the riches I have promised you. But if you do not…” His voice dropped to a lustful masculine growl. “I will have you as my personal pet. You will envy the freedom of a slave when I make you mine.”
Sariah’s heart began to pound in her chest. She had assumed that if she failed her life was forfeit, but Griffen did not have death in mind for her. He had something she did not truly understand from the words he said, but understood perfectly in the way a trickle of excited fear slid down her spine in response to the tone and intent behind his words.
Panic made blood rush away from her skin toward her muscles as her skin became pale, her body tense. Her future was to be decided at the tip of her blade—and yet she could not bring herself to raise it against King Griffen. After what his men had done, he would have deserved it if she had plunged the blade into his heart, but Sariah was not a bloodthirsty warrior. She had no taste for the business of battle.
“Still you refuse?” Griffen’s expression began to fade into something like disappointment. “Do you surrender, Sariah?”
“I have never attacked a man,” Sariah said. “I would not like to harm you.”
Her words bought a round of laughter from Griffen and his men. The notion of her being afraid to wound a king struck them all as most amusing.
“So it is for my benefit you tremble with your blade pointing toward the dirt, I see. If you only act in defense I will give you something to defend against. Understand this, Sariah. If I catch you and subdue you, the wager is over. You will be my pet and your freedom will be forfeit.”
He moved toward her, reaching for her quivering frame. She saw his large hand approaching as he tried to take hold of her. Somewhere in the last seconds, she found her courage.
Men were stronger, bolder, larger, but Sariah had a few advantages on her side. She was naturally more nimble, more adept with finer motions. As Griffen’s bulk came toward her, she lashed out with the blade, a wild strike guided by instinct.
Griffen fell back. She saw his eyes widen, shock spearing through his pupils, making them narrow. A hush had fallen on every man in the camp—and suddenly Sariah saw why. The blade had been impossibly close to cutting him. A thin line of white, a mere scratch had appeared on his chest. She had touched him, but no blood had been drawn. The terms of the agreement had not been met, but the king was shaken.
A little smile played over her lips. Pride was not for women, but she could not help but feel a little twinge of it at rendering bold King Griffen and his men silent even for a brief second.
“Well, little lamb,” he said in dangerously soft tones. “You truly do surprise. Were you aiming for my heart?”
Sariah did not reply. She was focused. One more mistake on the king’s part and she would be riding away from his encampment, forever free. Griffen began circling her slowly, making her turn to follow him. If he managed to get behind her, there was no doubt he’d be able to disarm her. She found herself watching his eyes more than his body, reading his intent in every flicker of his lids and lashes.
“When you are my pet, I will have you dance for me,” he purred. “Naked, just as you are now. You will please me in every fashion. I will use your body for my pleasure and make you quake with the force of your own…”
He was trying to distract her and unnerve her. He seemed to have forgotten that she was a simple girl in the presence of a king and his warriors. She was as unnerved as she ever had been. His words only served to inflame her resolve, to send heat coursing through her body as she vowed that such things would never come to pass.
Suddenly, Griffen reached for her with his left hand. Sariah’s blade flashed toward him, but it was a feint. His right hand came around the other side, just barely visible in her peripheral vision. She felt his fingers grazing her arm and pulled back, throwing herself off balance. She tumbled backwards, her momentum making her roll right over her head and up onto her feet.
“Graceful,” he noted. “You will make a lovely dancer, pet.”
It was impossible to ignore the fact that Griffen was excited. His cock was growing with every successive little skirmish. She could see a light in his eyes, a hunger that could only be sated by female flesh. Hers.
Sariah gripped the knife tighter.
Griffen’s men were stamping their feet and clapping their hands, thrilled with the entertainment. They were brutes, the lot of them but Sariah could pay them no mind. This was no mere display to her. This was a chance for freedom.
“Look how serious you have become,” Griffen smiled, his teeth flashing. “I think my little pet is beginning to enjoy herself.”
He was wrong. There was no enjoyment. The pounding of her heart, the rushing of blood through her veins, the tingling in every extremity, they meant nothing.
Griffen stopped circling and stood still, watching her with a handsome smirk on his arrogant face. “I will enjoy spearing you,” he said in crude reference to the sex act. “Are you a virgin, Sariah? I think you are. There is an innocence even in your fury.”
He was wasting his breath. She was not interested in his taunts. The pulsing between her legs was likely a response to stress, not to the fact that the powerful king’s cock had reached an extraordinary length and was pressed hard against his body. Her eyes were drawn there, to the thick rod trammeled with veins and moving almost of its own accord at times, pulsing with his motions.
The swift shadow of his arm made her realize that he was making another attempt to capture her. This time there was no time to swing her blade; she turned and ran around the fire, escaping with a burst of speed that barely saved her skin. Had Griffen truly given chase he could have overhauled her in an instant. Instead he watched her bouncing buttocks as she ran and shared the amusement of his men.
“Distracted by my cock, weren’t you, Sariah?” Griffen grinned broadly. “The virgin cannot resist her curiosity. Do not worry, pet, you will taste this soon. I will slide myself down your throat and you will swallow every drop of my seed.”
Sariah’s face twisted and blushed at the same time. His promises were vile, but she could not deny that her breath came a little shorter when he spoke, and she was certain that she had almost been captured because she was distracted by his manhood.
Her mind was becoming clouded by his threats and taunts, she was losing her nerve and she was also beginning to tire. Sariah was no seasoned warrior. The arm that held the dagger was already beginning to feel the strain of its weight. If she was going to act, she would have to act immediately or forever surrender to the barbarian king.
“Come, Sariah, go to your hands and knees and present your cunt to me,” Griffen said, his voice a low erotic purr that made some part of her unknown to her virgin mind resonate with excitement. “Your thighs already glisten with your need.”
Sariah looked down and saw that he was right. Her inner thighs were gleaming with moisture running from the chalice between her legs. Confused by her response to the king, Sariah was frozen in place. Was she truly aroused? Was this how it felt to want a man?
“You will make the perfect pet,” he continued. “Once you are tamed and trained, you will be the envy of any concubine in the land.”
Concubine. That’s what he wanted to make her. A whore to be used as he saw fit. She would rather die than have that be her fate.
Rebellion blazed in Sariah, made her feet move swiftly across the ground. She would spill his blood, claim her victory, and take his gold.
Griffen stood still, the broad expanse of his body bared to her, every part of him vulnerable to the knife. She took his stillness for surprise at the ferocity of her attack, which happened so swiftly that there was barely time to blink before she was upon him, the blade a fraction of a hair away from making contact with his skin for a second time. Somehow he turned at the last moment and her momentum carried her past him, the knife cutting nothing but air.
Before Sariah could recover, a hard, heavy hand clamped down on the back of her neck, another on her wrist, squeezing until she let the knife go. She resisted with all the strength she had, but it was not enough. She was caught.
She let out a cry of dismay and lashed out with everything she had, her teeth catching the hand on her wrist in a harsh bite, which drew copper-tasting blood. She heard his breath hissing between his teeth, and the grip on the back of her neck tightening as he pulled her up to look her in the eye.
“Our wager is over,” Griffen said calmly. “You will not ever take an aggressive action against me again. If you do, you will be whipped for it, do you understand me, Sariah?”
“I would take a thousand whippings to be free of you,” she spat boldly. Adrenaline was pumping through her body, fear making her bolder than she had been. Even if all was lost, she would not quietly bow her head and accept fate.
His white teeth flashed inches from her face. “Is it the thought of a thousand whippings making you drench yourself?”
He ran his fingers between her legs, scooping wetness that trickled down his fingers as he held them up to show her, and everyone else.
“You are as wet and willing as a bride on her wedding night,” Griffen said triumphantly. “Will you admit that and submit to my will with grace? Or will you force me to take a rougher path?”
Sariah’s eyes blazed at him. “I will never submit to you.”
She wished she could have meant those words in every part of her, but Griffen was right. Her lower lips were tingling where his fingers had brushed their abrupt path. She wanted him to touch her again. She wanted to know how the thick length of his devastatingly erect cock felt between her thighs.
Sariah’s greatest secret was that her virginity was a burden she no longer wished to carry, but virtue was valued above all and Sariah had never been one to dishonor her family. With her heart pounding, blood rushing, her wetness making the tight passage of her pussy all the more alluring, some wanton part of her wanted to thrust forward in his grasp and have Griffen bury his cock inside her.
“Oh, you will submit,” Griffen laughed. “You have no choice in that matter.”
She was his. Every part of her beautiful trembling body was his to command. Had been from the moment he laid eyes on her, but now she knew it too.
The cry went up around the men. Griffen would have loved nothing more than to throw Sariah down and plunge his sword into her tight little cunt, but he had no intention of taking her roughly, not at first. Far too many slaves were ruined by overeager masters who made coupling something to be afraid of. Sariah’s natural instincts were strong and her body reacted to his slightest touch. He had no doubt that she could become sexually eager if she were introduced with passion tempered with patience.
That did not mean she would escape without any demonstration of her sexual submission. His men needed to see that the woman who had killed several of their number was bought to heel, punished for her crimes. He could not be seen to be weak in his handling of her.
“Bring me a riding crop,” he called out. “We will break this fine filly now.”
Sariah’s eyes widened, her caramel gaze filling with fear. Griffen felt his resolve weaken. Beating her for trying to escape wasn’t fair. The fact that lives had been lost spoke more to the incompetence of the men involved than any fault on her part.
The crop was handed to him. He kept it in hand while pushing her to her knees before him, her quivering lips less than an inch from the length of his cock.
“Show your contrition and submission,” he growled down at her, his hand firmly locked in her hair. “Suck me.”
She opened her mouth, perhaps to argue. He didn’t give her the chance. He thrust his cock into her mouth, a bold gesture given she had just bitten him. Griffen saw a flash of fire in her eyes. He lifted the crop warningly and raised a brow at her. An unspoken conversation was taking place between them. If she dared bite him, there would be no more mercy.
In that moment, he was showing more than mastery. In a way, he was showing trust. With his flesh between her teeth, he was vulnerable. If she hated him enough, she could inflict a severe injury. To do so would be to invite a punishment beyond punishment, but Sariah had already shown that she was not bound by the usual rules of feminine resistance.
The moment passed and she did not bite. She accepted his cock. A roar of applause went up around the men as Sariah’s lips were stretched, Griffen’s hand twisting in her hair as he held her in place and began fucking her mouth.
She gasped and gargled as that thick rod plunged between her lips over and over and over again, long punishing thrusts clearly designed to stake his claim and show his men that the woman who had cost them one of their number was being as thoroughly broken as any wild filly.
Griffen’s grip was powerful, his hand controlling her head and with her head, the rest of her body too. His cock controlled her breath, sliding so deep into her mouth that for very brief moments she found air hard to gasp.
All the while he locked eyes with her, his will imposed on her with every thrust of his hips. He fancied he could feel her start to respond, her lips closing around his cock, her tongue making willing contact with the underside of his rod. He almost doubted his senses; if this girl was anything, it was rebellious.
He pulled his cock out until just the tip of it rested on her tongue, noting that she did not try to pull away. She kept her mouth in place, her tongue lapping gently, perhaps involuntarily at the underside of his head.
“Show me what you have learned, Sariah,” he said, giving her the opportunity to control the situation a little. If she was smart, she would obey him. That would impress the men and ensure that he did not have to use the crop too harshly.
Instead of obediently sucking his cock, she resisted silently. Showing a little more mercy than was perhaps wise, Griffen brought the crop down lightly against her exposed rear. The kneeling position made her buttocks arch out alluringly, twin rounds bared to his discipline. The end of the crop tapped her left buttock, leaving a pink mark in its wake. When she did not immediately obey him, he landed a second strike on the right buttock. This time a bright red welt sprang up almost immediately on her soft skin.
With his pet squirming before him, her lips still wrapped around his cock so her every whimper bought him a jolt of pleasure, Griffen lowered his voice so only she could hear him. “I could beat you, Sariah, I could make you writhe in pain for the amusement of my men, and then make you pleasure me with your mouth. Or you could be a good girl and do as you’re told now. The choice is yours. They will enjoy the show whichever way it unfolds.”
She gave him a look of bitter resentment, not realizing mercy when she received it. That was the way of wild things. She would be grateful upon reflection. In the moment, hot pride and burning embarrassment made that emotion impossible.
Griffen struck her left buttock again, snapping his wrist to make the leather crack against her skin with a wicked heat. “If I have to give you one more of those, I will give you a dozen,” he warned, wondering internally why he was being quite so gentle with her. She had earned herself a thorough thrashing, but instead of whipping her into submission, he instead found himself cajoling the beautiful young woman into obedience.
The extra trouble was worth his while. Griffen felt her tongue flex at the warning, running over the underside of his cock with a tentative touch that sent a bolt of excitement flashing through him. Her mouth was a delight, soft and tender and the motions of her tongue, although initially reluctant, soon became extremely pleasurable as she gave way to a deeper feminine instinct that knew nothing of disobedience.
Sariah began to suckle at his cock, powerful instinct taking over as she pleasured the man who had bested her and drawn out the inner wanton wildcat whose lust had long been denied.
Griffen threw back his head and uttered a primal masculine groan, his fingers loosening their grip for a moment, then clasping her hair again as he began to almost knead her scalp, drawing her closer then letting her go. He could feel his cum roiling in his balls, the desire to spend himself down her throat overriding everything else.
Sariah seemed to be as caught up in the moment as he was. Her hips were swaying, pink-marked bottom wiggling this way and that as she slid her mouth all the way down his shaft and took him as deep as she could. Impressed by her obedience, Griffen murmured praise, his voice strained with the climax that was bearing down on him like a charging stallion.
He looked down into her eyes, her ruby lips wrapped so tightly around his thick shaft, her cheeks hollowed with the suckling motions she was making and for a moment, he forgot that this woman was his prisoner. For a brief second of pure ecstasy, she was elementally female, as free and as wild as any creature on the plains. Her eager cock suckling brought his seed forth, rushing up the length of his shaft as he let out a loud growling yell of triumph. His thick seed coated her tongue and slid down her throat. There was no choice whether or not to swallow as Griffen pressed his cock to the back of Sariah’s tongue and ensured several spurts made their way down into her belly.
The pleasure was much greater than that he usually felt from orgasm. There was a rush of conquest, but something more too, a tenderness he could not quite understand. She was so beautiful there at his feet, his cum still glistening on her lips, her eyes soft and somewhat bewildered.
Griffen reached down, hauled her up against his chest and kissed her deeply, his tongue snaking into her mouth, sharing the aftertaste of his seed.
“Perfect,” he said, locking eyes with her as she arched against his naked body, her curves fitting the planes of his body as if they had been sculpted for that very purpose. “Utterly perfect.”
In spite of the fact she had lost her home, her freedom, and her pride, Sariah glowed at his compliment. Some kind of fever had taken hold of her when his cock met her tongue. Her blood had been hot from battle and Griffen’s conquering act had been more pleasurable than she had anticipated. Though she was blushing from submission and defeat, she was also deeply aroused.
While the men cheered their king, Griffen scooped her up in his arms and carried her back to the privacy of the royal tent, a well-appointed dwelling with three interior rooms. She was taken to the rear portion where a large bed had been assembled and lined with a great many furs. Used to sleeping rough with nothing but a cloak and perhaps soft grass to rest her head upon, Sariah was pleasantly surprised by just how soft the bed was to land on as the king tossed her upon it, her welted bottom meeting the soft fur.
Griffen followed her onto the bed, his large body covering her own, his muscled thigh parting her legs. For a panicked moment she thought he was going to thrust his cock inside her, but it was his fingers that slid between her wet pussy lips, her juices easing the passage of those two digits as he sank them up to the second knuckle before encountering the barrier of her hymen.
“I thought so,” he said, stilling his fingers. “You are a virgin. Untouched.”
She had been untouched before, but she was no longer certain that term applied. Griffen might not have fucked her, but she could still taste his cum in her mouth and every part of her body seemed to bear some residual sensation of his hands.
Sariah looked up at him, uncertain as to what he intended to do with her. His cock was as hard as it had been when she sucked him, perhaps harder. She looked down to see the great length pressing against her stomach, seeming impossibly long. There was no human way that rod could fit inside the tight crevice between her thighs.
“You’re trembling,” he said, running the fingers of his other hand through her hair. “Don’t worry, Sariah. I am not a cruel man.”
His fingers were still inside her and she could feel the walls of her vagina clenching around them, testing the feeling of what it was to be filled even a little. To her surprise, there was no pain. Her lips easily stretched around his fingers, her juices slicking them so that the heat and hardness slid easily inside her. Slowly, Griffen began pulsing his fingers back and forth inside her, then suddenly he twisted his hand slightly and let his thumb brush against her clit.
“Oh!” Sariah let out a moan of pleasure and surprise as a tingle of excitement fizzed at the little nub and quickly rippled through her loins.
Griffen’s smile was rakish and handsome. “It feels good, doesn’t it, Sariah. This is what you were made for, pet. You do not yet know what your body is capable of doing and taking and feeling, but I will show you all that and more.” He pressed his thumb down over the bud of her clit and Sariah found herself almost immediately out of breath, her head spinning as her hips moved instinctively against his hand in a grinding motion.
“Good girl,” Griffen praised softly, his voice a low erotic purr. “Make yourself come, Sariah, take your pleasure on my fingers.”
She moaned softly, blushing profusely as she found her body moving at his behest. He watched her with an approving gaze, smiling as she arched her hips and ground herself against his palm with more eagerness than she knew she was capable of. When he lifted his thumb, her hips sought it again, pressing her needy clit against him.
He began to thrust his fingers harder, careful not to break her hymen, but adding a third finger so her pussy was stretched wider than she thought was possible, her clit becoming more sensitive as the thrusts became harder, her breath came shorter, and a tingling raced up her spine, broke over her scalp in a thrill of pleasure and then burst in one great crashing wave, racing over her body.
She reached down, grasping his hand so that he could not move it away, wet sounds filling the tent as she fucked herself on his fingers, making that exquisite sensation grow and roll on and on. This was a climax like no other. Sariah had rubbed the little button between her thighs before of course, but never felt any kind of release like the one she was experiencing there in the king’s tent, her skin coated in a sheen of sweat, her body writhing in orgasm.
“Very good, my pet,” he praised when she finally laid back on the bed, limp and sated, her face flushed with heat.
Pet. The word sank through her ecstatic consciousness. To Sariah’s surprise, she felt warmth in the word and saw it in his eyes. She found herself gazing up at him with a soft wondering confusion. All her life she had wondered what it would be like to be with a man. Though she was still a virgin, she thought she knew now. It was finding that her body was capable of feeling more than she had imagined, that her capacity for pleasure went far beyond the little rubbed climaxes she gave herself. With Griffen she was more than what she had been. The wetness and light ache between her thighs spoke to a change that she felt throughout her entire being.
“Sleep now,” he ordered as he laid his naked bulk next to her, one heavy arm sliding around her waist to pull her against his muscular body. Sariah had never shared her bed before either, but it felt so natural with Griffen. As she closed her eyes and let her tired muscles relax, she almost forgot that she was a captive and he a king. A sense of safety engulfed her tired senses as her eyes closed on the long day.