Beauty's Release - By A. N. Roquelaure & Anne Rice Page 0,54

away from all dreams and thoughts of the future.

When I awoke, I was lying on a pallet on the floor. Lamps were lighted in the room. I knew I was in Lexius’s chamber. I rolled over and rested my head in my hands, looking about me. Lexius was standing at the window, looking out into the darkened garden. He wore his robe, but I could see it was loose, ungirdled, probably open in front. It seemed he was whispering with his thoughts, or murmuring. I couldn’t make out the words he said. He might as well have been singing.

He turned and was startled when he saw me looking at him. I was resting my head on my right elbow. His robe was open, and he was naked under it. He came closer, his back to the pale illumination seeping through the window.

“No one has ever done to me what you did,” he whispered.

I laughed softly. Here I was in his rooms, unmanacled, and he naked, and he was saying this to me.

“How unfortunate for you,” I said. “Beg me and I might do it again.” I didn’t wait for him to answer. I stood up. “But tell me first—did we please the Sultan? Are you satisfied?”

He took a step backwards. I realized I could drive him right to the wall merely by advancing towards him. It was too amusing.

“You pleased him!” he said a little breathlessly.

And he was so handsome in a fragile sort of way, a feline man, something like the sword with which the desert people fight—gracefully shaped and light yet deadly.

“And you, were you pleased?” I stepped a little closer, and again he backed away.

“You ask foolish questions,” he said. “There were a hundred new slaves on the garden path. He might have passed us over completely. As it was, he chose both of you.”

“And now I choose you,” I said. “Aren’t you flattered?” I reached out and took a lock of his hair.

He shuddered.

“Please ...” he said softly. He looked down, rather irresistibly, I thought.

“Please what?” I asked. I kissed the hollow of his cheek, and then his eyes, forcing them closed with my kisses. It was as if he were bound and manacled and couldn’t move.

“Please be gentle,” he answered. Then he opened his eyes, and his arms wound round me as if he couldn’t control himself. He embraced me and held me tightly as if he were a lost child. I kissed his neck, his lips. I ran my hands under his robe and along his narrow back, loving the feel of his skin, his smell, the floss of his hair against me.

“Of course, I’ll be gentle,” I purred into his ear. “I will be very gentle ... when it suits me.”

He broke away and dropped down on his knees, and took my cock in his mouth, his whole body hungry for it, starving for it. I stood motionless, letting him move up and down on it, letting his tongue and his teeth do their work, my hand on his shoulders.

“Not so quickly, young one,” I said softly. It was excruciating to move his mouth away. He kissed the tip. I pushed off his robe and lifted him up. “Put your arms around my neck and hold tight,” I said. I lifted his legs as he obeyed, and I wound them around my waist. My cock was bumping under his spread backside, and then I shoved into him, my hands cupping his buttocks, his arms grasping tighter to me, his head bent on my shoulder. I stood with legs apart and thrust into him with all my strength, and his body rode the thrusts, my fingers pinching, clawing at the flesh I’d whipped earlier.

“After I come,” I whispered in his ear, squeezing his backside, “I am going to take that strap of yours and whip you again, whip you so hard that all day long under your beautiful robes you’ll feel the marks I put on you, you’ll know you’re as much a slave as those beings you command, and you’ll know who your Master is.”

The only answer was another lingering kiss as I spent into him.

I didn’t whip him so hard. After all, he was a mere fledgling. But I made him crawl about the room, I made him bathe my feet with his tongue, and I made him arrange the pillows for me on the bed. Then I seated myself and made him kneel beside me, with his hands behind his neck