Read Slavemaster's Woman, The for Free Online

woman’s gaze returned to his,
and Tarken saw the fire in them—hatred, pure hatred. The bold
expression of emotion by such a lowly subordinate should’ve angered
him as it would most slavemasters, but it affected him quite
contrarily. His breath caught in his throat, and his cock was
brusquely, painfully hard. Instead of inflaming his temper, it
inflamed his libido.
    The maidservants rinsed the soap from her
skin and the water cascaded down her body. Her gleaming white hair,
which reached past her waist, now soaked, hung almost to her
mid-thighs. It covered little. Hanging in wet tufts it framed her
breasts, emphasizing the dusky tips, her nipples protruding into
tantalizing points, hardening beneath the streaming water. The
remainder of her hair wrapped around her waist like heavy drapery,
though strands of it plastered to her hips and splayed over her
hairless mound. Puffy outer lips clung tightly together protecting
the feminine flesh that kindled her arousal.
    With his fingers curling, Tarken watched her
with a wetted sexual appetite. He was suddenly eager to separate
that crease, to take pleasure in exploring the charms that lay
beneath. How would she sound when she came? Would she moan? Could
he make her scream?
    Yes, she would scream , he thought
with blatant, male satisfaction.
    Slowly, his attention drifted upward, and
oddly, when he returned to look at her face, the slavemaster was
pleased that the fury remained in her glare. That anomaly in his
reaction, he would examine later. For now, Tarken couldn’t think
beyond the vision before him.
    This slave was extraordinary.
    He groaned as the maidservants led her from
the water’s depths, exposing shapely, slender legs that Tarken
couldn’t wait to feel wrapped around him as he buried himself deep
inside her. His desire for her went beyond reason, she was—she
was…
    The private thought screeched to a halt. It
had been solars since the slavemaster reacted to a woman with such
sexual hunger.
    “She’s a beauty, is she not?” Lavidis
snickered, seemingly aware of Tarken’s arousal. “Cushla has that
affect on every male when they first lay eyes upon her.”
    Annoyed by his susceptible response to the
woman, Tarken forced his mind to concentrate on the business at
hand. “She’s cut and bruised. Is anything permanently damaged?”
    “Ah, no.” Lavidis was wrenching his hands.
“Beyond the temporary marks, marring such a beauty would be an
atrocity. I’ve personally seen to all of her punishments to be
certain that didn’t occur.”
    Tarken lifted an eyebrow but kept his
attention fixed on the slave girl. “All of her punishments? Just
how unruly is she?”
    “I wouldn’t put my hand near her mouth,”
Lavidis mumbled.
    “Say again.” Tarken jerked his attention
from the woman to Lavidis.
    The slave trader’s unease was obvious. “As I
told you, your king has been informed of this, though it’s beyond
me why he would pay top credit for a slave such as her.”
    “His reasons are none of my concern.” Tarken
narrowed his eyes, watching as Lavidis shifted nervously. He was
hiding something. “You’re not telling everything, slave
trader.”
    “No, no, no!” Lavidis held up his hands. “I
swear my comrade, I’ve been honest!”
    “Lavidis!” Tarken’s glare was threatening.
“What else?”
    Lavidis scratched his head before dragging
his palm downward along his face, and then skimming it over his
jaw. He seemed to consider something but finally spoke, “Her bed
skills offer little to be desired.”
    “Meaning?”
    “She’s either complacent or
resistive.”
    From the looks of the trader,
Tarken couldn’t blame her. The slave trader was a bit repulsive in
features. It didn’t surprise him if the woman showed little
enthusiasm with Lavidis. Tarken’s lips curled into a wry smile.
“You know this first hand?”
    “I do.”
    “She has a pregnancy shield
implanted?”
    “Yes, of course.”
    “Then, I have no other concerns with