Scheherazade and the King Ch. 04

"What if I stopped fighting?" She asked. "Would you get sick of me?"

"Submission isn't in your nature," he said. "You'd get fed up with the charade far quicker than I would."

He was right, and she knew it.

"I like the thought of you as a submissive little whore," he whispered. "Oh the things I would make you do..."

Scheherazade gasped angrily and tried to wrench herself free but Shariyar's powerful arms held her close.

"See?" He laughed.

Scheherazade stopped struggling, resigning herself to the feel of his skin against hers.

"I want to fuck you so hard, gypsy," he whispered. "These past few days have been painful for me."

She shuddered at the lust in his voice. She could feel Shariyar's cock growing between her ass cheeks as he ground his hips gently against hers.

"I've got a big load saved up for you," he murmured. "Where do you want it?"

"Shut up," she snarled.

"In your mouth?" He continued, ignoring her. "Or inside your tight little cunt?"

"I don't want you anywhere near me," she growled, renewing her struggle against his rippling muscles.

He let her go suddenly, laughing as she fell forward through the water. She spun around angrily, fuming at him.

Shariyar's eyes fixed on her heaving breasts: "How about all over your tits?"

Scheherazade clapped her hands over her breasts. Her eyes flashed daggers at the king.

"You're just going to have to keep fantasising, Shariyar," she snapped.

"How about you tell me a story to ease my aching cock," he said. "Tell me about the sultan's stubborn slave girl who learned to love the sting of her master's hand across her bare ass."

"I like to keep my stories at least somewhat realistic," she retorted sarcastically.

"I don't know," he said mockingly, "you seem like a glutton for punishment to me."

"Oh yes, just what I need, more scars to compliment my existing set."

"Not if you're a good little slut and do exactly as master says," he purred.

"If you think I'm ever going to call you "master", prepare to be disappointed," she bit back.

Shariyar grabbed her wrist and pulled her sharply towards him. She gasped as she stumbled against his chest. He grabbed her ass with both of his hands, pressing his body against hers. His cock was fully erect and it brushed against her lower belly as he moved against her.

Scheherazade tried to push him away but the king simply leaned in closer. His cognac eyes raked over her torso, smiling smugly at her erect nipples.

"You don't have to say a fucking word if you don't want to," he said. "You can just pout those pretty lips of yours and moan in ecstasy."

"Ecstasy?" She scoffed, holding him at arm's length. "You will not be the man to make me do that."

Shariyar stopped suddenly, his hands still gripped her ass but they had stopped moving.

"Do you mean, you've never had an orgasm?" He asked.

"I know, isn't it strange?" She taunted bitterly. "All those times I've been raped and I've never once taken any pleasure in it."

Remorse fluttered across Shariyar's countenance for the briefest moment. He had not thought of what he was doing as rape - she was his slave. Legally, he could do whatever he wanted to her. The thrill he got from taking her as forcefully as he could? That was his right as her master.

But the regret passed as quickly as it had come.

"If anyone is going to make you cum, gypsy," he said, "it will be me."

"Not fucking likely," she snarled.

"Oh, darling, I can promise you," he smiled darkly. "As soon as I get inside you, you're not going to be able to hold in your screams."

"At least we can agree on something," she said, rolling her eyes.

"You're going to be on your knees begging for more by the time I'm through with you," he murmured.

"As you said, I would never beg," she replied, catching him out with his own words.

"You're not just a pretty face, are you?" He asked, his dark eyes sparking. "Did you give your former master the same tongue lashing you're giving me?"

Scheherazade's eyes suddenly filled with tears of rage: "Stop it."

"Should I take that as a "yes"?" He asked, brushing past the warning in her voice.

"Did you force yourself on Nasrin the way you do me?" She countered.

Now it was Shariyar's turn to feel anger bubbling in the pit of his stomach. His eyes hardened for a moment before softening again.

"So, he was your Nasrin?" He asked softly. His hands moved from her ass to rest on her hips.

"He was much, much worse," she said softly.

"I can't imagine anything worse than her betrayal," he said.

"That is because you are not a woman," she replied matter-of-factly.

"I will not bring him up again," Shariyar said, "so long as you promise to do the same for me."

Scheherazade's blue eyes considered him for a moment, but then she nodded.

"You must be hungry," Shariyar said suddenly. "Let us eat."

The girl nodded, following him out of the pool. She kept her eyes on the ground as he wrapped a towel around his waist. He turned around and smiled softly when he turned around to find her trying to shield her nakedness with her hands.

"I've seen your body, Scheherazade," he said. "Why bother trying to hide it from me?"

"Because it's mine," she snapped, "and you have no right to it."

"A point we will continue to disagree upon," he said, grinning at her lustily.

Her lips pursed in anger and she glowered at him from behind her golden hair.

Finally Shariyar relented and brought her a towel, watching as she wrapped it around her lithe body.

As the king left the room to order for food to be brought, Scheherazade took the opportunity to change back into her dress. She pulled the bloodstained shift over her head, grimacing at how rough the cloth felt in comparison to Shariyar's luxurious towels.

She emerged from the bathing chamber to find Shariyar already sitting at the table, his plate laden with food. She stood off to the side, waiting for him to invite her to sit down.

"Gypsy, are we going to go through this every time?" He asked wearily. "Sit the fuck down and eat before I change my mind."

Scheherazade took her place at the table, piling food onto her plate.

"Careful, girl," Shariyar said, his own mouth full, "or you're going to get fat."

"Maybe then you'll stop trying to fuck me every time I move," she said drily.

Shariyar laughed. It was an honest, heartfelt laugh that rumbled up from his belly, and it caught Scheherazade fully off-guard.

She stared at the king, her fork poised before her mouth. She had never heard the man actually laugh before. Part of her wondered when the last time he had laughed was.

The young woman studied him as he laughed: There was something about the way the corners of his eyes crinkled, the way his broad smile stretched across his face, the way the dark gleam in his eyes suddenly disappeared, something that made him seem less of a monster.

His laughter faded and he caught the way she was looking at him: "What is it?"

Scheherazade shook her head as if to clear it: "Nothing."

"Tell me," he pressed, taking a long draught from his wine.

"Sometimes I forget you're just a man," she whispered.

Shariyar snorted: "I am much more than that."

He smiled to himself and then looked at her, his eyes searching for something hidden.

"Sometimes, I forget you are more than you appear," he said.

She offered him a heartfelt smile - the first she had ever given him - and said: "Much more than that."

He leaned back in his chair and yawned: "I am tired, gypsy, finish your meal."

She swallowed her last bite and put her cutlery down. She glanced over her shoulder at the hot, dark room that awaited her.

"Are you going to lock me in there again tomorrow?" She asked.

"That was my plan," he said.

"It's so hot in there," she said. "Can't you let them open one of the windows? Just one?"

"And what? Give Shahzaman another opportunity to break in to my palace?" He snapped. "Not a fucking chance."

Scheherazade sighed disappointedly.

"But you don't have to sleep in there if you don't want," he said.

"No thanks, I wouldn't want to get blood on your sheets," she remarked disparagingly.

"You really are a stubborn little shit, aren't you?" Shariyar scowled.

"Why? Because I would rather sleep alone in that furnace than next to the man who rapes and beats me?"

"Maybe if you weren't so obstinate, I wouldn't have to," he rejoined.

"You like it, Shariyar, admit it," she fumed. "You're a sick bastard and you can't blame that on me."

"God you're infuriating," Shariyar hissed, rising to his feet. He banged his fist on the door and two servants appeared immediately through it to clear away the dishes.

As soon as they left, he bolted the door behind them and began putting out the lights, muttering angrily to himself.

The gypsy watched him for a few moments, holding her breath as she weighed her options.

"I'll sleep with you if you promise not to lock me in that room tomorrow," she said suddenly, her words tumbling out of her mouth all at once.

Shariyar turned on his heel and looked at the girl as if she had gone mad: "What did you say?"

"I said that I will sleep with you if you promise not to lock me in that room again tomorrow," she repeated.

"You think I want you to sleep with me?" He asked in disbelief. "You think I give a shit where you sleep?"

"Yes, I do," she said staunchly. "I think you want to have someone in your arms and, at this point, you don't really care who."

Shariyar snarled under his breath and turned away, continuing to darken the room.

"It's too hot in that room," she said. "And your chamber is just as secure."

Shariyar sighed as he extinguished the last lamp. The only light now came from the flame flickering beside his bed.

"Fine, gypsy," he muttered, "I will not lock you in the queen's chamber tomorrow."

Scheherazade nodded, triumph sparking briefly in the azure depths of her eyes.

"But, if you're going to sleep with me," he said, a roguish smile curving his lips, "then you're going to have to take that dress off."

The girl's eyes narrowed but she stood up and pulled the dress over her head. She held her head high as she walked towards him, trying not to tremble under the molten amber of his gaze. She held out the dress to him and he took it, throwing it over his shoulder without his eyes ever leaving hers.

"That's better," he smiled, looking her up and down. Her hair fell down across her breasts, her nipples just visible behind the golden curtain.

He pulled off his towel and let it fall to the floor. He leaned in close to her, drawing her face to his with a gentle hand behind her neck so that he could kiss her.

Scheherazade closed her eyes and kissed him back, remembering what had happened the last time she had refused to accept his kiss.

He pulled away from her and stared deeply into her eyes. Whatever he was looking for, he still could not find.

He climbed into bed and gestured for her to lay beside him. She slipped under the covers and turned her back to him. He did not try to touch her.

She listened to his breathing grow slower and deeper before letting herself relax and fall into sleep.

But Shariyar was not asleep. He turned his head and stared at the sleeping girl, the scars on her back illuminated by the flickering light of the candle beside the bed. He reached out and snuffed the light between his fingers, trying to find that tiniest hint of redemption in the sting of the flame.

++++++++

Shariyar woke with the dawning light to find his arms wrapped tightly around the sleeping girl.

He pulled away gently, trying not to wake her. She looked so beautiful drenched in the rosy light of morning.

Shariyar ran a finger over her lips. She moaned softly, still fast asleep. The king closed his eyes, his balls tightening as he slipped his finger gently inside her mouth.

He groaned at the sudden desire that swept over him. He wanted to push his finger deeper inside her mouth and feel that velvety tongue caressing his skin. He wanted to tear the blankets off her, take her rosebud nipples into his mouth and bite and suck on them. He wanted to force himself inside her smooth pussy. He could almost imagine how it would feel to have her cunt clenching tightly around his cock as orgasm after orgasm wracked her body.

He shuddered at his own thoughts. God he wanted her. His member strained under the blankets as her tongue brushed against his finger once again. He wanted her to lick him from his balls to the crown of his cock. He felt precum dripping slowly onto his belly as he thought about her pretty little mouth wrapped around his dick.

She stirred in her sleep and her teeth grazed his finger sharply. He hissed at the sudden pain but it just made his member harder.

He withdrew his finger from her mouth and ran it along her neck, across her collarbone and over her tattoos. He traced the outlines of the foreign words all the way down her arm, then his hand slid onto her hip.

Scheherazade's eyes fluttered open and she frowned to see the king staring at her so intently.

"What?" She asked as she sat up, pushing Shariyar's hand off her body.

"Who gave you those tattoos?" He asked.

"A Daarkan elder named Eyofe," she replied, rubbing her eyes as she woke up fully.

"They mar your beauty," he said off-handedly.

"They restored my beauty," she responded sharply, clasping her hands over the tattoos defensively. "You may dismiss the stories of the Daarkan healers as myth if you wish, but I can tell you they are all true.

"It's too early in the morning for this, gypsy," Shariyar groaned. "Stop being so damn quarrelsome."

Scheherazade gave him a withering look and folded her arms with a humph.

"I was having such wonderful thoughts about you until you started to talk," Shariyar said, clasping his hands behind his head.

A broad grin stretched across his face: "If you want, you can make my little daydream come true."

The girl glared at him and climbed out of bed, picking her dress up off the floor and pulling it on.

"Oh come on, girl," Shariyar moaned, his smile mocking, "get back in bed and put that little mouth to good use."

"Two more days," she reminded him angrily.

"Two more days before I can lay a hand on you," he agreed. "But Hazim didn't say anything about the other way around."

"I am not putting my hands or my mouth on any part of you by choice," she said.

"It always has to be a battle with you, doesn't it?" He sighed.

He sat up in bed and stretched his arms over his head, his powerful muscles surging. He stood up and pulled his robe on but did not tie it. He walked towards Scheherazade slowly, his eyes laughing as he watched her struggle to look everywhere - anywhere - but his hardened cock.

"You did this to me," he said, "you and your delicious curves."

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into him, grinding his cock against her.

"Get on your knees and help me get rid of it," he whispered in her ear.

"You're too lecherous for your own good," she growled, trying to shove the king away from her.

"I'm insatiable," he agreed.

"Too fucking bad," she snapped.

He tangled one of his hands in her hair and pulled her in for a kiss, taking her mouth as forcefully as he could without harming her. When he pulled away from her, she was breathing heavily, her body tense in his grasp.

"Why can't you just get a couple professional whores to satiate you?" She asked breathlessly.

"I tried," he said, winding his fingers through her hair. "But when they moaned around my cock, it was your face I saw."

Scheherazade recoiled but Shariyar held her head in place so the he could plant a string of kisses on her cheek, along her jaw and down her neck.

"When I made them scream out in pleasure, I saw your face," he whispered, his words hot on her neck.

Shariyar drew away from the girl and let her go abruptly. Without another word, he proceeded to get dressed for the day. She sat down at the table and watched him dress. Wrapped in rich fabrics and fine leather, he looked every inch the regal monarch.

"You may stay in my chamber," he said, his hand on the door, ready to push it open. "But you are not to go out on to the balcony until I return, do you understand?"

The girl nodded.

"Good," he said. "I will send a servant with a new dress for you to wear."

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Ah! Civility from the creature at last!" Shariyar cried mockingly. But then his tone sobered and he replied: "You're welcome."

Scheherazade watched as he pulled open the door and passed through, leaving her alone again. She stood up and wandered around the room, taking the chance to look through every drawer and box she could find for her mementos, just in case he had brought them back inside the room.

She slumped back down on the chair - she had found nothing.

Sighing she sat up and began braiding her hair, pulling the blonde waves into an elaborate plait that she had known instinctively how to do. As she wove her long tresses together, she became progressively lost in her own thoughts. Her fingers worked like a machine and she paid little attention to what they were doing.

She started when a knock at the door broke her trance. She hastily finished her braid as Hazim walked in through the doors. He smiled to see her out of the dark chamber in which Shariyar had entrapped her.

"I'm glad our king has had a change of heart," he smiled, sitting down opposite her at the table.

"I wouldn't call it that," she said, but she smiled back at him happily.

"Well, no matter," he shrugged, "so long as you're not stuck in that room another day."

"Do you need to look at my back?" She asked, moving to stand.

"No, I don't think so," Hazim said, motioning for her to stay seated. "You are just about healed, my dear, but I won't be telling Shariyar that."

"Thank you," she breathed.

"You need as much rest as you can get," he said.

"But will you come anyway to talk with me?" She asked hopefully.

"Of course!"

The young woman sighed in relief. The thought of being left alone with no one to talk to but Shariyar was enough to send her into a depression.

"I have good news for you," the doctor continued. "This morning, I sent out the drawings of you that I made."

"You did?" She asked, her eyes wide.

"To every doctor with Daarkan connections that I could think of," he said, looking very pleased with himself. "I reckon we should hear back within a couple weeks, give or take."

"Thank you!" Scheherazade cried, springing from her chair to wrap her arms around the old man. "Thank you so much!"

"My dear, it is the very least I could do," he sighed sadly, patting her head gently.

++++++++

Shariyar was in the middle of a council with his agricultural ministers when a shadowy face appeared in the doorway.

"Councilmen, I will return in a moment," he said, standing to leave the room.

The ministers bowed as he exited, following the blackavised man down the corridor until they were far enough away to not be heard.

The man bowed before handing Shariyar a sheath of papers. The king's countenance grew stormy as he saw that each parcel contained a drawing of Scheherazade with a message inked on the back.

"Hazim sent these?" He asked.

The spy nodded: "We intercepted them just outside the city."

Shariyar cursed under his breath and then waved the spy away. He folded the papers under his arm before rejoining the ministers.

As the old men spoke of wheat and cattle, the king's mind kept drifting back to the contents of the letters. They seemed harmless enough, the doctor wanted to know if anyone else had heard of the Daarkan ritual and had included the picture of Scheherazade's tattoos to illustrate. But he had not just drawn her tattoos. He had drawn her face as well, perfectly capturing every detail of her visage. It made Shariyar wonder whether the doctor was also trying to help the girl discover clues to her past by finding out if any of his colleagues recognised her face.