Read Online Slavemaster's Woman, The by Angelia Whiting - Free Book Online Page B

breasts and causing them to rise.
“As I said, slavemaster, there is nothing to tell.
    “But if there was, you would tell me
wouldn’t you, Cushla?”
    “Probably not.” Cushla’s chin went up a
notch.
    He was amused by her posturing.
    She stood straight with her head held high,
looking rather dignified despite having not a stitch of
clothing on. Dignity— she’d mentioned.
    A being is nothing without a feeling of
self-worth, even a slave. Tarken understood that need, though he
couldn’t show compassion for it. To do so, would equate to a
weakness and a sly slave would know how to take advantage of that.
“I’ll ask anyway.”
    “So ask then. I won’t answer.”
    “Your station doesn’t have to be an
unpleasant and lonely thing.” Tarken stepped closer to her. “It’s
permissible for you to have friendships.”
    The boisterous titter that unexpectedly
bellowed from Cushla was loud and filled with sarcasm. “With you?
You’re insane if you think I could develop a friendship with you.
That is what you’re implying isn’t it?”
    “I will never use what you tell me against
you. Yes, you can find friendship with me as long as the boundaries
of master and slave are understood, Cushla.”
    “You must have a tick in your brain if you
think I’m gullible enough to believe you’re genuine,” Cushla stated
firmly. “I have no wish to consort with those on that side of the
cesspool.”
    “Is there no one you’ve ever trusted,
mistress?” Tarken took yet another step closer to her. If he
reached his arm to full length he could touch her.
    “When never allowed the option of a choice,
how could it be otherwise?”
    “And all men that bedded you have taken you
by force?”
    “Always, Tarken. ” She scowled while emphasizing his name as if it was
a dirty word. “Unless I’m in a stupor. Then, I’m merely passive,
but not of my own doing.”
    “From drugs?”
    “Or from beatings, or the slave band, but
yes, drugs too.”
    “You prefer to be in such a state when
you’re being bedded?”
    “I prefer to have my mind in as far away a
place as possible.”
    Ah, so that was it. Tarken suspected
as much. There was no need for her to explain further. Cushla
goaded him in hope of being punished to incoherence, so she would
have little or no awareness of being fucked. His belly curled with
distaste. Why did the word fuck seem so crude all of sudden,
when in essence that is what he inevitably did with female
slaves—fuck them. A slow grin crept along Tarken’s lips. All of his
female thralls gave him their bodies willingly…eventually. Cushla
would be no different. He smiled at the pleasant thought of having
her naked beneath him.
    “You find rape amusing slavemaster?” She
boldly glared at him.
    “I do not condone such an act of violence,”
Tarken stated firmly, the smile fading when he realized she had
misinterpreted his expression. “I was merely imagining your body
writhing with passion.” His voice softened, his grin returning.
    Cushla turned away from him, but Tarken was
relatively sure he saw the beginnings of a blush. The air of
innocence it portrayed, he thought was quite charming. “Do you
always resist intercourse, mistress?”
    “Sometimes I fight, if the slime is too
rough, but that makes the sex more painful, and it garnishes
punishment afterward.” Cushla moved across the room, creating a
wide arc away from the bed, and out of his reach, as well. She
stopped in front of the mirror, glancing at her reflection, and
grimaced as though she couldn’t bear the sight of herself. “Mostly,
I lie there and review the list of chores I’ll need to complete
later. Or I silently imagine my favorite song playing in my
head.”
    “Rest assured, Cushla that when I’m inside
of you, you’ll be singing a much different tune.”
    “An arrogant slavemaster.” Cushla waved a
hand through the air dismissively while casting her eyes upward in
a clearly sarcastic manner. “How unique you must be. I