“You feel nothing?” He grazed me with his teeth, moving from one cheek to the other, devouring my flesh with open mouth, sucking and biting—though without force enough to hurt me—all the while holding my hips fast.
I squirmed, but kept silent.
Moving one hand to the small of my back, he used his other to probe my wetness. “You desire this.” He pressed with his thumb, circling, teasing. “You want me inside you.”
My head buzzed with fury even as I writhed under his caress, still giving no answer.
He laughed low. “What have you been thinking of, waiting for me?”
“That you want to torture me,” I hissed, “—to punish me for something of which I’m innocent.”
“Punish you.” He withdrew his hand. “Is that what you desire?”
“Nay! That is not what I said!”
He rose from the bed, and I heard the chest’s lid open.
I dared not look, but heard the switch pass through the air. The pain was immediate—a burning sting across the crease of my lower buttocks.
“This is what you want, thrall?”
“Nay!” I cried, fearful that he would strike me again.
I attempted to push my legs together, but his hand intruded upon me. Three fingers slid easily inside.
Against my will, liquid rose from deep within the flesh that he sought to make his own.
“You deny this pleasure, but soon, you’ll think only of the man who masters you now.”
Kicking my feet, I tried to wriggle away. “If I take pleasure, it will be my doing—not yours.”
Withdrawing again, he struck me twice with the switch, across the fleshiest curve of my behind.
The moan from my lips came unbidden. I abhorred him, yet there was a tug inside me. My body opened to him, despite the rebellion of my mind.
I was alone and frightened, aching, angry, and aroused. To say what he wanted to hear would make all easier, but I could not yet surrender this piece of myself.
“I do not wish it,” I sobbed, burying my face in the covers.
I waited for him to punish me again but felt instead his hand smoothing my hair.
Without speaking, he untied the final sashes. As I curled up, he brought his arm across my body, pulling me into the warmth of his chest.
I was aware of his nakedness, of his arousal pressed to the crevice of my cheeks, but he made no move to force his penetration, nor did he ask again what I wished from him. I lay tense, aware of him behind me, his breathing becoming that of a man who slept.
Wearily, I closed my eyes.
I no longer knew myself, nor understood the man who held me captive.
9
Elswyth
August 3rd, 960AD
Ragerta woke me, helping me sit up, placing a bowl ofgrøtin my hands.
“Where is he?” I hadn’t felt him rise from the bed. If he were close by, would he tie me again, now I was awake?
