Bertrice Small - Captivated

"I speak to you as I do, my queen, because of all the men you have ever met, I am your equal," Dagon replied softly. "They say you have no heart, but I do not believe it. How can someone so beautiful, so wise a ruler, be heartless? I am already half in love with you!"

Then before she might remonstrate with him, he pinioned her beneath him, and his lips met hers in a deep, passionate kiss. Kalida's head spun wildly. The mouth against her mouth was firm and warm. A tiny tingle of pleasure raced through her body before he lifted his head but briefly, and then again began to kiss her. His lips played along hers, touching at the corners, brushing over her eyelids.

"The gods!" he whispered. "You are so damnably sweet, my queen!"

Kalida attempted to regain her mastery over this unruly slave Zenaida had given her. "You do not have my permission to kiss me," she scolded him. "I will whip you if you do not behave! You must be trained to respect the superiority of the female, Dagon! Cease, or I will punish you!"

Releasing her, he leapt from the bed, and, looking into the basket by the bed, drew forth a small leather whip. "Punish me then, my queen," he said, "for I will not come to heel like the others who have peopled your bed. Passion is to be shared equally by the man and the woman, not just taken to be enjoyed by only one alone."

His kisses had rendered her almost drunk, but she was a queen, and not to be bullied or disobeyed. Taking the whip from his hand, she arose from the bed. "Stand upon the floor, and bend, bracing yourself with your hands upon the bed," she commanded him.

The gods! Would she really do it? he wondered, then winced as the fingers of the leather whip bit into his buttocks. Dagon grit his teeth. She would raise no cry from him, but to his surprise she struck him only three times before ceasing. His flesh was burning nonetheless, and there was a tingle in his manhood.

"You may reenter my bed," she said loftily. "Are you now chastised, and comprehending of my authority over you?"

He lay gingerly upon his back. "You are utterly beautiful when you are so masterful, my queen," he told her.

Her exquisite features darkened with her displeasure. "Must I give you over for common pleasures then, Dagon?" she demanded of him.

"Why are you angry with me because I find you beautiful?" he countered. "You have hair like thistledown." He took up a strand between his fingers, rubbing it, and then bringing it to his lips to kiss.

Kalida felt a catch in her throat. This man was confusing her. She was used to abject obedience, utter devotion, a quick, pleasant sheathing, and then she would send the slave away. Men did not speak as this man was speaking to her. Men were rough, crude creatures whose baser nature must be kept under strict control.

His hand wrapped about a length of her long hair, and he drew her down so that their faces were but inches apart. "You have always held the upper hand, my queen," he whispered so only she might hear him. "Have you never wondered what it would be like to give yourself over totally to your lover's care? It takes a very brave woman to do such a thing, but I believe that you are as brave as a woman comes. Are you, Kalida? Are you?" He drew her closer, his lips brushing hers softly. "My queen. My beautiful queen," he murmured low.

"Stop it!" she cried. "You are confusing me. Lay back so I may rouse, and sheath you. You talk too much, Dagon of Aramas!"

"By the gods!" he swore softly. "You are afraid!"

"I am not!" Her cheeks were pink with the denial.

"Then trust me, Kalida," he coaxed her.

"I did not give you permission to address me by my name," she scolded him nervously.

"Give yourself to me," he gently pressed. His lips brushed her brow.

"It is forbidden," she protested.

"Is not forbidden fruit the sweetest?" he countered teasingly, kissing the tip of her nose.

"I am the queen!" she cried. "You must let me have my own way! I shall send you to the mines if you do not!"

"I will be a king one day, and must have my way," he teased her mischievously. "And if you send me to the mines, you will never know the sweetness that only I can give you, Kalida, my fairest queen." He wrapped his arms about her, and pulled her against his chest. "I want you." But then he saw the real fear in her eyes, and quickly released her, reaching into the basket and drawing forth a crystal vial of pale-pink lotion. "I will massage you, with your permission, my queen."

"Yes," she answered him, and her voice was shaking.

She rolled onto her stomach, and he began to smooth the liquid cream onto her long back. It smelled of apricots. His hands moved rhythmically and soothingly. Dagon felt her begin to relax beneath his firm touch. Without realizing it, Kalida had given him the key to her conquest. He would stake his life on the fact that she had never felt real passion, and was possibly even afraid of it. The first man to bring true joy to her would be the man with whom she would fall in love and take for her mate. But cajoling her into giving herself over to him would not be a simple or an easy task. Still, it must be done tonight lest Zeras, who had obviously taught Kalida to stifle her emotions, intervene to prevent the queen from favoring him.

Dagon leaned over as he worked. Pushing aside her lovely hair, he bent to kiss the nape of her neck. It was soft, and delicately perfumed. His fingers dug gently but with strength into her shoulders. She murmured contentedly beneath his touch. His cupped hand took a dollop of the apricot lotion and smoothed it over first one buttock, and then the other. He kneaded the rounded halves of her tempting bottom firmly, his finger running teasingly down the shadowed groove separating the twin parts. Now he was spreading her thighs, his lotioned fingers sliding along the satiny flesh, caressing them, brushing gently.

Kalida was purring with contentment. She had certainly not expected an evening such as this one was turning out to be. Usually her male slaves were brought to her like a plate of pretty sweetmeats, all oiled and muscled, and she would choose one to favor that night. She roused him, sometimes allowing him to kiss, or even caress her. Then she sheathed him, and when he had released his tribute to Her Majesty she would send him from her bed. They rarely spoke to her, although some would murmur inane things. Only the boldest would reach out to fondle her breasts as she rode them. They certainly did not suggest the forbidden as Dagon had done; or massage her with such expertise as he had. Kalida had always wondered why other women made such a fuss about lovemaking. The queen took lovers because it was expected of her, but she frankly found it boring. None of the men she took to her bed had ever touched her emotions in any way. Tonight, however, was different. She was beginning to feel strangely. While she was a little fearful, it was nonetheless quite exciting, and she was enjoying herself very much. How far would he press her? Would she allow him to do so? She was not afraid! She was a queen.

He rolled her over gently, and seated himself upon her thighs. The hard flesh of his rump against her soft skin was strangely stimulating. Kalida could not see it, although Dagon could, but her cheeks were flushed pink with her arousal. Sapphire eyes met emerald eyes. He smiled faintly, knowingly. Then he poured a stream of lotion directly from the crystal vial onto her belly, and began to rub it into her skin, with light, delicate strokes. Kalida sighed with delight. This was absolutely wonderful! Her masseuse in the bath did not make her feel so delicious and tingly all over. "Ohhhhh!" The sound was drawn forth from her as he began to cream her breasts. She watched his big hands, mesmerized, bronze against ivory; the delicate feathery touch as his fingers brushed across her flesh, teasing and gently pinching the little nipples. Her eyes closed with pure enjoyment. His fingers pressed against her mouth. Unable to help herself, Kalida kissed them. They were quickly gone, caressing her face gently, tracing her features tenderly.