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

alien
word for ‘I’m a shithead?’ ”
    She’d actually looked him directly in the
eye when she said it.
    Tarken stared at her in stunned disbelief as
his anger threatened its way to the surface. His hand went to the
button on his waist band, but he being in complete control of his
own actions and meaning it only as a threat, Tarken hesitated…and
before he could stop it, a laugh burst from him! Cushla was an
enigma. But he’d figure her out. No one was ever so complex that
their true nature couldn’t be revealed…eventually—and she was damn
lucky he was her slavemaster instead of someone else, or she would
be getting the crap beaten out of her right now.
    Cushla mumbled something while staring at
the button that controlled her slave band.
    Tarken could swear what he heard her say was press it . Did pain arouse her? Perhaps that was the reason
she subjected herself to beatings. Tarken reconsidered the thought,
doubting that was her motive. There was another purpose to her
plea. After giving it some quick thought he suspected what that
might be and would explore it later. For now, his mind was focused
on only one thing.
    Sex…
    She was causing his cock to go rock
hard.
    “Take off the cloak, Cushla,” Tarken lowered
his voice and commanded softly, willing the hand at his belt to
remain still and the other to hold his drink steady. The gaze he
held upon her, was seriously firm.
    The urgency to touch her was almost
unbearable. He was ready, aching to sink inside of her. Tarken
couldn’t remember the last time a woman affected him this way. If
he was a less patient man, Cushla would be beneath him on the bed
at this very moment, and he would be selfishly plunging into her.
“Take the cloak off, Cushla,” Tarken repeated. After taking a sip
of his wine, he turned and walked toward the bed, setting the glass
onto the nightstand. Patiently, he waited, saying nothing,
wondering if she would do his bidding.
    Moments passed, and Cushla just stood
there.
    Finally losing patience but revealing none
of it, Tarken spoke, “I will not force you, Cushla, but you must
learn to comply.”
    Silence rent the air for a span of several
ticks of time with no response coming from her.
    Tarken quietly waited.
    “No,” she finally whispered.
    It was out-and-out defiance, and Cushla had
to know she was drawing a harsh punishment. Why would she do
this? Tarken crossed one arm over the other, careful to keep
his temper in check. He studied her face.
    She eyed him, but there was nothing but
blankness in her expression and in her gaze.
    “Come here.” He crooked a finger, and when
she didn’t comply Tarken added, “You’ll find I’m not a typical
master, Cushla. I have different methods of training, some you will
enjoy, and some you will not.”
    She didn’t move, didn’t even flinch when he
took a deliberate step closer to her.
    The woman had nerves of steel, he thought.
His mere size alone intimidated most males, let alone females who
were unfamiliar with him. “I’m waiting, Cushla.” Tarken stared at
her for several moments.
    When it became readily apparent that she
would not comply, Tarken crossed the room.
    He could nearly see the resistance spreading
over her beautiful face, but instead of becoming irritated, her
defiance was making his cock pulse! It was a strange thing.
Certainly not appropriate for a slavemaster. It would be amusing if
it weren’t so arousing, and he could swear by the flush in her
cheeks and the haze that just clouded her eyes that the woman was
as horny as hellfires for him too. He needed to get a hold on
himself.
    He needed to get a hold on her!
    Tarken reached.
    She still didn’t flinch.
    His hand slipped through the slit in the
front of her cloak, and he ran a single finger along the crease of
her folds, stroking lightly at the tip of her clit. His other hand
moved beneath the garment and he placed it on her hip. Her skin was
warm beneath his touch and he wanted to feel more of her. With