She will learn to obey.
Freanossian spy R-482
My job as a Freanossian spy is simple: assimilate as one of the savages on the foreign planet of Avalere, and report my findings to my people. I did not plan on entering the circle of sacrifice, the center ring of women willingly giving themselves to the military leaders of Avalere. When the most barbaric leader of the lot apprehends me, I know no means of escape.
By the time he is finished with me, I am not quite sure I want to.
When I see the little one in my midst, I am drawn to her ethereal beauty. I wonder if she has the blood of the gods in her veins. Though she faces execution for breaking the most serious laws of our country, it is an easy choice to claim her as my mate, my chosen one, and spare her life. She is as willful as she is beautiful. It will not be easy to convince the headstrong woman that I am now her master, but I relish the challenge.
It is my privilege and honor to tame her.
Disclaimer: Aldric: A Sci-Fi Warrior Romance is a dark, erotic work of fiction with strong BDSM elements, including the disciplining of adult women. This is a standalone novel with a happily-ever-after.
I lean forward and grasp her chin with my fingers, turning her eyes to focus on mine. “When your king asks you a question, you are expected to answer. Now answer me. Do you feel hunger, or no?”
She nods, her eyes focusing on mine. “I do.” A brief pause, then, “But I do not wish to eat.” She wrinkles her nose in disgust.
I release her chin and nod. “I see. But I am not giving you a choice in the matter, you see. If you are hungry, you must eat. Now do so, or I shall be forced to feed you myself, but not until I’ve taken you across my knee for your defiance.”
Her eyes widen. I do not wish to punish her again, but I must teach her to obey me.
She eyes the food on the plate. Her bravado wanes a bit, and her voice is small when she speaks. “I don’t know what it is, or what I like,” she says. “I…” Her voice falters before she continues. “It is unfamiliar to me.”
Ah. She is not defiant, but afraid. I nod. “Come here,” I say. Though apprehension colors her eyes, she stands, shuffling her feet as she slowly walks over to me. When she is by my side, I gently push her to sitting upon my knee. “You will try one bite of everything,” I say. I take a small purple grape in my fingers and lift to her mouth. Like a good girl, she opens for the first bite as I put it in her mouth. “Chew, little one,” I say. “This is a grape. It is juicy and sweet, and can be eaten whole without being peeled. We crush and ferment them to make wine.” She obeys, and as she does, her eyes widen.
She swallows. “That is… I do not have a word,” she says with surprise. “What do you call something that tastes wonderful?”
I smile. “Delicious?”
She nods in wonder. “Delicious,” she says, savoring the word as much as she savors the fruit. I am pleased. My kingdom is well known for their flourishing vines.
I pick up a small wedge of cheese. “Again,” I instruct. She obeys, opening her mouth, and I carefully insert a small corner of the wedge. It is a sharp cheese, tangy and salty. She closes her mouth and chews. “As is that. What do you call it?”
“This is cheese.”
“Cheese,” she murmurs. “Delicious.”
She reaches for another grape. Surprised at her boldness, I swat her hand away. I am feeding her now, and she must defer to my leadership.
“No, little one,” I chide. She tucks her chin and her eyes cast down. She is chastened. That is a far better response than the flashing eyes and defiance. She is learning quickly. I continue to admonish her. “When your king feeds you, you will wait patiently.”
“You are not my king,” she says through gritted teeth.
I spin her around so that she is straddling my lap, facing me, and I grasp her firmly, my fingers cupping her jaw. The temptation to punish her again is strong, but I must keep in mind that she is ignorant of our ways, and it is my job to teach her. “You listen well, woman,” I say. My voice is low, a near growl, as I convey my displeasure at her disrespect. “That circle of women that were brought forth were woman who are subservient to the Hisrach. They voluntarily gave themselves to the military leaders of our planet. You entered our presence as one of them. You made that choice. Thus, choosing you out of the ring, I was given headship over you. I marked you publicly. I am your king.”
“You are not,” she whispers, shaking her head.
I am baffled at her defiance. Does she not know what I am well within my rights to do to her? I could have her flogged and imprisoned. I could mount her at my leisure, morning, noon, and night, and call each of my men to do so in turn. I could have her beg at my feet, caged by my bed, and fed the scraps from my plate.
Lesser men have done this, and more.
I lean in closer to her, my eyes meeting hers squarely as I speak. “Little one,” I say. “I am not merely your king. I am your master. You would do well to remember that.”
BIO AND SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS:
Jane has been writing since her early teens, dabbling in short stories and poetry. When she married and began having children, her pen was laid to rest for several years, until the National Novel Writing Challenge (NaNoWriMo) in 2010 awakened in her the desire to write again. That year, she wrote her first novel, and has been writing ever since. With a houseful of children, she finds time to write in the early hours of the morning, squirreled away with a laptop, blanket, and cup of hot coffee. Years ago, she heard the wise advice, “Write the book you want to read,” and has taken it to heart. She sincerely hopes you also enjoy the books she likes to read.
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