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.
When good constitution was restored, the Conqueror and the Imperial Guard reached Corinth in good time.
That night, after celebrations for the Conqueror's latest conquest had ended, the Conqueror retired to her chambers where her slave had been waiting naked and on her knees.
Upon entering her chambers, the Conqueror took off her crown and placed it over her desk. When her gaze rested on her slave, she ordered her slave to stand up and put her clothes back on.
"The healer told me everything you had said and done when I've been unwell," the Conqueror began.
As the slave finished tying up the laces of her dress, she prepared herself for punishment for her insubordination during the affliction. She wasn't sure what was the sought after response to her Lord's last statement, so she elected to remain silent.
“ If I had died, what would you have done?” The Conqueror asked.
The slave, still not able to comprehend her Lord's line of questioning or decipher her unusual mood, just muttered, “My Lord?”
“Are you one of those slaves who after years of slavery don't know what to do with their new found freedom?” the Conqueror tried to simplify.
The slave paused to gather her thoughts, then replied, “ I would have gone back to my village to look for my sister I suppose, my Lord… Perhaps tried my fortune becoming a healer of sorts.”
“So when you thought I was dead, you weren't afraid of being free, were you?”
“No, my Lord,” the slave said as she lowered her head and stared at the intricate mosaic under her feet.
“Well then, I don't understand, what frightened you so when you thought I was dead?” the Conqueror insisted.
“ What frightened me, my Lord?”
The Conqueror was about to lose her patience. “To hear the royal healer tell it… he told me he had never seen such terror, not even upon my enemies' faces at the sight of my drawn sword, as he had seen on your face when you thought I was gone.”
"Forgive your humble and insignificant servant, my gracious Lord, but I have no answer to give," the slave replied as she felt massive lump of pressure in her throat that almost smothered her.
"Heed my words. I swear to you by any God you name, you will not leave this chamber until this matter is thoroughly explained to my satisfaction." It didn't sound like a warning or a threat, but like a promise.
More time had elapsed, but the slave remained mute, all the while thinking how audacious it was that she was denying her Master.
The Conqueror reckoned a new approach was in order. " I give you leave to speak freely without the need to fear my retribution provided you will speak only the truth."
"The thought of losing my Lord terrified me."
"Yes, so much has been established already. What's left inexplicable is the 'why,' and the reason for your tears."
"For the life of me, my Lord, I don't know. All I can say is that when I thought my Lord was lost, I felt such pain in my heart," she spoke softly and place her hand over her chest, "like I would never be happy again."
"What does it mean?" the Conqueror persisted. To her ears, the slave's answer was like an enigma that might as well have been spoken in a foreign language.
But the slave just shook her head, demonstrating her ignorance.
"What else went through your head?" the Conqueror's relentless inquiry continued.
"These longings I used to feel ever since my childhood returned when I thought my Lord was gone," the slave gathered all her efforts to explain to her Master things she didn't fully understand herself.
"Longing for what?"
"Longing that used to fill me with… perhaps a desire for something that would make me feel… well-contented… cherished, maybe…?" the slave's reply sounded both like an answer and like a question.
The Conqueror and slave stood facing each other until the Conqueror turned her back to her slave. Now facing her desk, she leaned over it, while supporting her weight with both her hands upon its surface, her gaze fixated on her Crown. The Conqueror shook her head in disbelief, and muttered under her breath, "It can't be… not after..."
The slave saw the Conqueror move one hand to shield her countenance.
In one moment of epiphany, the slave understood, and with her Lord's back to her still, she was brave enough to say, " The night my Lord left her mark on me, the pain was excruciating and I was frightened beyond reason, but when my Lord… took me… I can't explain why, but I found pleasure in my Lord's commanding power, and I found serenity and gratification in the pain. That was when I first learned a shameful truth about myself: I take pleasure in my Lord's control and mastery and at times I crave the pain my Lord delivers as much as I suspect my Lord needs and desires to deliver it and to dominate me…."
Brusquely , the Conqueror turned to face her slave. "So your testimony in court before me…" her voice trailed off, inviting a response.
"Was the truth, my Lord," the slave finished her Lord's sentence.
The Conqueror took a few moments to process her slave's unbelievable words, her glaring eyes fixated on the pitiful slave standing small and timid in her chambers. "Some find pleasure in inflicting pain, like me; others find pleasure in receiving it. It is a matter of personal taste, therefore it is not a matter of shame or morals," the Conqueror explained as she closed the gap between them with a few wide gaits.
Standing toe to toe with the young slave, to whom she owed her life, the Conqueror put a tender finger under the slave's chin. "Look at me," she asked, not commanded.
The slave lifted up her head and looked into the Conqueror's eyes. Her heart lost a beat and her legs trembled like they had trembled standing on the slavers' ramp all those years ago .
"Do you care for me, Gabrielle ?" the Conqueror asked.
If it weren't for her Lord's arm wrapped around her lean waist, Gabrielle would surely have collapsed to the ground.
"I do, my Lord," she replied.
The Conqueror slowly leaned down till her face was short of an inch away from the young woman's face, when she saw a single tear role down Gabrielle's face and her jade eyes shimmering with unshed ones.
"Don't you want me to kiss you?" the Conqueror's voice was low and soft.
"I do, my Lord," Gabrielle answered.
"What is it, then?"
"I've never been kissed before, my Lord." She sounded ashamed and bereaved.
"I'll be gentle," the Conqueror smiled with kindness.
The Conqueror pressed her lips to the lips of the woman in her arms and kissed them slowly and tentatively.
Gabrielle's body awakened when she felt her Lord's warm touch and the singeing breath of her Lord against her skin, as her Lord wandered to her ear, leaving burning sensation in her wake.
"I welcome the use of your hands," Gabrielle heard her Lord whisper in her ear, sending a hot shudder down her body that pricked her nipples.
When her Lord's lips returned to hers, Gabrielle touched her fingertips to the corners of the Conqueror's mouth and proud jaw and parted her lips, inviting the Conqueror's tongue into her mouth.
The feel of the Conqueror's tongue bathing hers, twirling around hers, filling her mouth so perfectly, so sensuously left Gabrielle weak, dizzy and gasping for air, but it was her Lord's singular act of utter tenderness that tore her heart asunder.
"My Lord's kisses are so deep," she whispered faintly, "They steal my breath away and I can hardly stand."
As the Conqueror lifted her up and cradled her in her strong arms, Gabrielle delved her hands into the Conqueror's smooth ebony hair, and pulled her Lord down to deepen their connection, making the Conqueror groan her pleasure as she tasted the delectable sweetness of Gabrielle's wet tongue.
First rays of light invaded the Conqueror's chambers and early birds began their chirping, but as the Conqueror was feeding off Gabrielle's mouth, saturating the young woman's heart with so much longing it hurt, the world outside and everything in it were dead to her.
The Conqueror carried Gabrielle to her bed, where she slowly undid the laces of her dress, allowing it to slide down to the ground, and then ridded herself of her own regalia.
The Conqueror sat cross-legged on the bed and Gabrielle was straddling on top of her, her thighs wrapped tightly around the Conqueror's waist, their famished lips still locked and their tongues still compressed against one another in a ravenous caustic kiss no force on earth could degauss.
Gabrielle felt the increasing pressure of her sex being parted by her Lord's fingers and something stiff and thick at her center. The Conqueror's fingers passed by a soft sodden patch of trimmed gold tinted down and warm succulent folds without resistance. The Conqueror's phallus was cleaving its way into Gabrielle's steaming womanhood easily. The smaller woman emitted an uncharacteristic moan as a blinding rush of pleasure coursed through her. Her soaking sex pulped against her Lord's abdomen, as she lowered her sex down harder onto the Conqueror's shaft, taking it into her, clinging to the Conqueror's stalwart shoulders for support, her fingernails digging into the Conqueror's back, raking a trail from her lower back to her nape, and drawing her Master's seething blood.
"I want to hear you, Gabrielle," the Conqueror's passion-driven voice encouraged her.
Gabrielle felt in her shaking bones that her Lord would bring her paralyzing deliverance, and leave her body enfeebled, sore and satisfied. She freed her voice, which was silent for so many years in her Lord's service, and groaned her pleasure for her Master.
"That's it, my sweet Gabrielle," the Conqueror encouraged her on, entranced by the mesmerizing sight of Gabrielle's ample breasts heaving and swaying to the indolent cadence she ordained.
As Gabrielle began moving her hips sensually backwards and forwards, the Conqueror couldn't take her eyes off her: the way her magnificent body moved; the way her spine twitched, the way her prominent luscious breasts swayed; the way her muscled abdomen stretched, her perfect sex slithering up and down her member, the expression of desire painted on her exquisite features, the sheen that covered her soft skin.
"Harder, my Lord," Gabrielle pleaded.
The Conqueror pushed forwards till Gabrielle's back was pressed against the bed and the Conqueror was on top of her, their lips and hips still locked. The Conqueror's thrusts became deeper, harder and faster. She watched Gabrielle's face contorting with the ultimate raw pleasure. Their bodies were jerking in an unadulterated ecstasy, allowing their climax to claim them.
"Let me hear you!" the Conqueror's voice roared when the waves of the storm continued.
As Gabrielle screams of release erupted from her throat, the Conqueror rode her still, and kept ramming into her with long hard jabs, bringing her rapture upon rapture till they couldn't endure any longer.
When the last ripples subsided, the Conqueror whispered the word 'Gabrielle' over and over into the ears of the petite woman beneath her.
Close to noon, the chambermaid Satrina entered the Conqueror's bedchamber to find Master and slave naked in bed, their bodies intertwined.
"Leave us alone," the Conqueror commanded and the chambermaid bowed, covered her eyes and left the Imperial chambers.
Upon hearing her Lord's voice, Gabrielle woke up in her Lord's engulfing arms.
"Forgive me, my Lord, for falling asleep…"
"There's no need for that. From now on you are welcome to spend the nights in my chambers."
"If it pleases my Lord," Gabrielle replied.
"Would it please you?"
"It would, my Lord."
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