Read Slavemaster's Woman, The for Free Online Page A

that
area.”
    “No, friend. I didn’t mean to
imply—”
    “Lavidis?”
    “Yes?”
    “If you have nothing further to tell about the
slave, then shut your trap before I truly become irritated with
you.”
    Lavidis made no further comments, and Tarken
assumed he was through with his summation on what to expect from
the slave. “Bring her to my quarters when she is ready,” Tarken
commanded. “And dispel of the fucking aphrodisiac you’ve washed her
with. If I detect even a trite scent on her I will return her to
you in an instant.”
    “Of course, yes!” Lavidis nodded his head,
rapidly agreeing.
    A crash below followed by concerned voices
drew their attention. A stone statue that graced one corner of the
pool had toppled, or rather the head of the statue had toppled,
cracking in half as it hit the floor.
    The astonishingly beautiful slave stared at
it, but only for a moment. Slowly, she lifted her gaze, locking
onto him with an icy glare that could freeze a flame.
    This behavior intrigued him even further.
Turning, Tarken swept toward the doorway behind him and left the
balcony without further words, while overhead a large bird squawked
loudly, its irritating protest echoing through the
garden.

Chapter Four
    He could tell by the look in her beautiful,
clear eyes and the tight expression on her lovely face that she was
still filled with fury. A bad sign. Belligerence was not a healthy
asset for a slave to possess. She could get herself
hurt—severely.
    Tarken inspected her body, visible through
the shear, full length cloak she wore. Nothing was left to the
imagination, yet she clung to it like the cloth was made of the
thickest cremali cotton. With a wave of his hand, he
indicated for her to remove the garment, but she stood motionless,
her rebellious gaze steady on his.
    Tarken tipped his head askew as he studied
her.
    A slave who’d been owned as long and as much
as this one had been should be much more compliant. Irritated, he
stepped toward her. In and of itself, his large size should have
been enough to intimidate the woman.
    She however, seemed unfazed. In fact, her
chin went up a notch.
    He snorted. Such arrogance! Her prior
slavemasters were incompetent at training her, or the woman did not
understand his direction. Either that or she was extremely brave or
daft. Tarken had yet to decide. He didn’t know which he preferred,
but there was something intriguing about this female he had yet to
figure out…and he would figure it out most definitely. “You’re a
bold one, mistress.”
    She should expect that he would activate her
slave band to punish her. It’s what most masters would do.
    Not Tarken.
    Rarely, did he use pain as a first method.
Rather, he much preferred to soothe the savage beast or administer
alternate techniques before resorting to corporal intervention.
Even then, the shock to the slave ban was weak, delivered only on
the mildest setting.
    He risked turning his back on her—testing
her—well aware that many newly acquired slaves often took advantage
of a master’s misplaced trust, attacking from behind in the hopes
of escape. He moved to the cellaret on the other side of the room
and opened it. “Would you like something to drink?”
    She didn’t answer his question.
    Nor did he sense any movement from the spot
she chose to plant her feet on, so he decided to explore the
cabinet in front him, ready to react if she dared to rush upon
him.
    Several carafes lined the shelves inside the
cabinet. Tarken picked one up and examined it. Though he enjoyed a
stronger spirit for himself, he chose a subtle umbret wine,
a smoother drink much preferred by females. It was an expensive
commodity, and one no master would consider sharing with a mere
slave, but Tarken had no regard for what other masters considered
proper. He was not a typical slave trainer.
    Pouring the liquid into one crystal glass
and then another, Tarken filled them half way. He then turned and
sauntered toward her like a beast