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She rose the next day to learn that the Master had left on business, and was to be gone at least three days. The news was an agony to her. She went to the steward in terrible agitation and asked if she were to be sold. He told her Lord Marcus had made no mention of her in his instructions for the house.

Penelope bent the rules and allowed her to help a bit in the kitchen. The older woman couldn’t bear to leave Julia to hours of boredom and nothing but her tortured thoughts. Even so, she had far too much time on her hands to think, and her emotions ran the gamut from dawn till dusk.

Sometimes she loathed him for having used some strange technique to seduce her will and make her desire him. Sometimes she felt he was lonely and she had failed him terribly, perhaps even broken his heart. Then she would laugh at herself for thinking he cared that much when she had no reason for it. Then she would cry because he didn’t love her, and her heart was utterly in chains to him, and she didn’t even know why.

The third night, very late, Julia was unable to sleep. She rose from the bed and crept quietly to the door, opening and shutting it with great care. Once in the hall she felt a giddy freedom. All the household was sound asleep.

She found herself making her way to the Master’s private chamber, that room she had once thought would be her frequent dwelling, which in fact she had never seen. She tried the door and to her astonishment, it was unlocked. The chambermaid’s oversight, surely. Julia slipped in quickly and closed the door behind her.

The room was smaller than she expected, with dark, soft carpet and a large moonlit window overlooking the street. She turned slowly around, looking at the shadowy furnishings. The bed was large and covered with a velvet counterpane of some dark color, and many pillows. She put her hand on one corner...then she saw the chifferobe. She moved stealthily, opened the door with great care and was relieved that the hinges were silent.

Inside hung the Master’s clothes, his breeches and jackets and his soft shirts. A wafting breath of his scent came to Julia’s nose, and she trembled. She buried her hands between two shirts, and then leaned her face into the fabric and inhaled. She took an armful of shirts and pressed her breasts into them.

Why must I love him, why must I burn for him so? she wailed inwardly. Indeed, the yearning was driving her mad, and coming here had been an awful mistake. These reminders of him only made the longing worse.

Like a woman possessed, Julia pulled her sleeping shift off over her head. Naked, she drew a handful of shirt sleeves up against her skin, sliding the cloth over her breasts and throat and cheeks. Then she pulled one shirt, a full, soft white one, out of the chifferobe. She slipped it over her head, inhaling deeply of the scent as the cloth tumbled over her. She wrapped her arms around herself and whispered, “My Lord Marcus...my Lord Marcus...”

It was like a dream. She walked slowly to the bed and pulled back the bedclothes. His body had lain here, perhaps his sweat was still here, in the sheets, and these pillows had been brushed by the sweet breath from his lips. Julia slipped under the covers and wriggled deep down into the soft mattress. Marcus’s scent was everywhere. As her body warmed the bed she pretended it was his warmth. She pulled one of the pillows on top of her, imagined it was his weight...

Only his weight would be so much heavier. His body, so strong and lean, his shoulders so broad, all of him so large she felt she might be dropped inside him and never found again. She lifted her hips against the pillow. If only he would take her, as he should, as was his right...if only he would pierce her, fill her with that mysterious hard organ she had never seen.

Julia rolled onto her side then, and put her hand on her own buttock, where she could still feel the welts from her beating. She stroked herself, thinking of his hand so large, so hot, so smooth. She thought of his fingers, of his dark eyes, of his lips whispering soft words in her ear. Be my slave, Julia...give me what is mine, Julia...I love you, Julia...

There was a sudden, distant stirring of noise that Julia could not place. She sat up, terrified. A couple of small thuds. Then steps on the stairs. She should try to hide, but there was nowhere to go and no time...perhaps the noise would pass by. But in a moment the door of the room opened with a quiet click, and candlelight flooded in.

He spotted her at once. Julia gasped, clutching the blanket to her chest. Marcus set down his satchel and closed the door behind him.

“This is well,” he said in an ambiguous tone, “I see my pleasure slave has warmed the bed for me.”

“My Lord!” cried Julia, and could find no other word.

He approached the bed and stood over her, making her feel small. “Why do you wear my shirt?”

His voice was so sweet to her ear, his presence so wonderful, she couldn’t bear to face his anger again. No reply seemed helpful, so she sat dumbfounded.

“Speak,” he said, and Julia thought there was some small suggestion of compassion in his tone.

“I could not bear being apart from you,” she replied breathlessly.

Marcus studied her face, the flame of the candle reflected in his black eyes. “You didn’t run from me, did you, Julia?”

She shook her head.

Marcus set down the candle on the bed table. Then he sat down on the bed next to her, facing outward towards the wall. He simply sat for a moment, then bent down to pull off his left boot. As he did so, he said, “I can think of no earthly reason why you should love me, yet some sense tells me you do.”

He cast her a glance. She nodded, silently. He returned to removing his other boot. “I laid you naked across my lap and beat you with my bare hand, and this made your loins weep with love for me? Why do you not hate me?” He dropped the boot and faced her. “Speak.”

“My Lord, you thought I ran away from you, and you pulled me into your lap and pleasured me. Why do you not hate me?”

At this, much to her disbelief, her master smiled. “Shall I reply honestly? Because you are intelligent and lovely and inquisitive, and you wept at my displeasure, and I saw your buttocks blush red from the blows I gave them, and I loved them. I saw you writhe under the pain of my lash, and I wished to see you do the same from the sweetness of my fingers. Whether you had meant to abandon me or not, I wanted to please you, I wanted you to burn for me in an agony of yearning.” He paused, sighed, lowered his chin and then raised it again. “Now answer your master’s question, Julia.”

“I do not hate you because...because I adore you.”

Marcus rose from the bed, pulling off his jacket, folding it, laying it across a side chair. “And why do you adore me?”

She watched him untie his shirt and pull it over his head, revealing a muscular chest and a tracing of soft hair that broadened at his navel. “Shall I reply honestly?” echoed Julia. “Because you are strong and passionate and exquisitely beautiful, and you hurt me and then kissed my forehead. You are all I admire in a man and you paid a great deal in gold so that you might place your harness around my waist. I know you hate what you must do to enslave me, yet you do it nevertheless. And when you caress the welts you have made in my flesh, I burn with all my being to have you pierce me.”

Marcus turned to face her, wearing nothing but his tight breeches. Even in the half light she could see his organ straining at the cloth. He stared at her a long moment, then said, “Return my shirt to me.”

Julia pulled the shirt off and handed it to him, letting the candlelight bathe over her breasts. Then she leaned over and pulled at his breeches, pulled down until his penis was free. At the sight of it, so large and hard, so obviously yearning to conquer, she felt her loins clench, then relax again in a soft spasm of pleasure.

Finally naked, Marcus lifted the edge of the counterpane. Julia felt his warmth even before his flesh touched her. Then he was next to her, leaning over her, and his lovely voice said, “I give you what you want, my slave, but only because I wish it. Were you to struggle against me, you would receive it just the same.”

“I want it because you wish it, my Lord,” said Julia, and her body was seized with a fit of trembling. She was in his bed, she was in his arms, and then his full weight covered her.

“I know you are in a fever,” he breathed in her ear. “I feel it.” His penis pushed between her legs, its satiny tip stroking the slippery folds. Julia opened to him, her thighs parting wide; she wished she could split her whole body, her whole being, that he might enter and fill her.

“I pray your mercy, my Lord, quench me...quench me...”

He silenced her plea with a hard, hot kiss. His mouth was so full and sweet, his chin so rough. His hair tumbled forward and fell on her cheeks, and when the kiss broke she dove into the soft waves, letting them caress her nose and lips. All the while her hips undulated beneath him, so that his penis would stroke her. The opening hungered to receive him, but she denied it to prolong the pleasure of the organ’s silky caresses.

Suddenly it withdrew, for Marcus was slipping down her body, his whiskers chafing deliciously as he kissed her throat and breast. Then Julia felt his mouth take her right nipple, the tip of his tongue teasing her in a flutter that made her moan. Her legs wrapped around his thighs, her hands clenched over his tight, sleek buttocks. His hand covered her other nipple, he pinched it between his fingers, all the while continuing to suckle. Two vibrations surged through her, seeming to collide with each other, double back, and intensify. Delicious madness seized her brain, she writhed under him fitfully.

He raised his head to look at her; their eyes met. A wicked smile was on Marcus’s face. “I think my slave enjoys a certain sort of torture,” he said, his voice thick with arousal.

The words thrilled her to the core. She stared back silently. Marcus shifted his body until his penis touched her genitals again. He took it in his hand and moved the tip slowly in a circle over her, then brushed it over the opening lightly. Julia moaned and lifted her hips pleadingly. Marcus spoke: “Put your hand on it.”

Julia reached down, her fingers finding pure perfect softness laid over stone. She pulled it toward the opening, straining.

“Not yet...” said her master. “But feel it. So hard. So large that it will fill you, and rend you like a sword.” He put his hand over hers, rubbing the tip of his penis over her again, barely pushing at the opening.

“Mercy my Lord...” sighed Julia, her voice nearly failing.

“You know I will be merciful, but first you must have the torture you wish for so, my slave, my Julia...” He bent to kiss her, all the while teasing her with the soft tip of his penis, making her fairly buck with lust.

Julia had never known herself to be such a creature, so hungry to be weak, so desperate to be helpless. But it was such sweet abandonment, such blissful surrender. Had she not been her master’s property, would this pleasure be so rich? Would he behave thus, so commanding, so irresistible in his power?

So merciless...for he teased her till she wept and beseeched him insanely, and then and only then did he bring her peace. Marcus took hold of her thighs, which were already open to him as fully as Julia could manage, and pressed them still wider. The tip of his penis was at the opening, and with sudden lunge he pierced her to the hilt. Julia’s moans turned to giddy, half-hysterical laughter at this, the relief was so extreme. Then just as quickly the laughter melted into whimpers of ecstasy. He filled her to bursting, each thrust seemed to threaten to split her wide open. His strength was terrifying and he gave no thought to being careful or tender, but took his pleasure recklessly, wildly.

Julia climaxed quickly, a flash of fire beneath his thrusting pelvis, and the languor that followed left her nothing but a puddle of soft bliss. To be in such a state as he had his way was like a dream, an altered state of consciousness. She lost herself utterly and became his movements, his heat, his strength. When at last he convulsed with his orgasm, she felt herself to be the pulsating muscles and throbbing nerves within him.

And then her master collapsed upon her, utterly spent, hot and damp with sweat and stupendously heavy. Julia lay still, barely able to breathe and not caring, all her being centered upon the instrument within her that still pulsed erratically, softly.

After a minute Marcus shifted some of his weight off her, and his penis slipped from her. He rested his head on the pillow next to hers, and looked at her from beneath half-lowered lids and a veil of his disheveled hair. His hand came up to cup her face.

“Tell me, Julia,” he said languidly, his voice lovelier than ever before, “is there any part of you that is not utterly mine?”

“Nothing of me remains unconquered by you, my Lord,” she replied weakly.

His fingers stroked her cheek. “And was it my gold that purchased you, body and soul, my beloved slave?”

She let herself sink into his dark eyes. “Your body conquered my body, and your soul my soul, my beloved master.”

“Then stay with me,” Marcus said in a whisper.

Julia closed her eyes, and soon was lost in sleep.

* * *

 

©2008 Romance at Heart Magazine.

Book ©2004 by Diana Laurence.

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