Between the Tarnsman and the Wall

It'd been an unseasonably hot day in Ar, and I was sure I couldn't attribute it only to the weather. My feet were hurried as they carried me toward the market from the races. I'd only needed to take care of one quick errand before going home. I couldn't wait to shed the layers of robes that so easily trapped heat within them that also came from something more.

I'd almost come to the bustling marketplace of Ar when I felt his arms under mine from behind, dragging me into the alley as my feet struggled to make solid contact with the ground. It seemed so surreal to me, and I was sure time had slowed immeasurably. I wondered why my assailant was not harmed by the ost pins in my robes, nor that anyone came to my aid. The city was busy with visitors from across Gor who'd come for the races that had only just finished for the day, and yet no one came to help despite a scream escaping my lips that I was sure could have reached the tops of the cylinders.

In the alley, my attacker whirled me around violently, pushing me against the stone wall of the bakery, forcing the air from my lungs in a pained grunt. I lifted my hands to his broad chest, pushing against him with everything I had while at the same time bringing my knee up in a quick thrust to his manhood. Turning his left hip inward and pressing the hard lines of his muscled frame to my lithe form, he managed to block my attempt at injury while at the same time grasping my hands in his large left hand, holding them against the wall above my head. My eyes widened in the brief moment before he brought his right hand up to my veils, recognizing him as the racer I'd favored for years.

A self-assured smile played on his lips as he tore the veils from me. Turning my head to my right, a blush the color of his tunic flooding my cheeks, I couldn't meet his piercing gaze. The veils fluttering to the ground, he brought his fingers to my chin and turned my face to his, lifting mine until I had no recourse but to bring my eyes to meet the lust and dominance of his own, knowing mine reflected a mix of fear and excitement.

"You've dreamt of this, Ava. Of me."

I couldn't and didn't try to deny it. My breath quickened, and the heat emanating from my belly coursing through me was becoming unbearable. It never occurred to me that he knew my name. All I knew at that moment was the wanting. Bending down, he crushed the softness of my berry-colored lips beneath his, and I was sure I might stop breathing as his tongue insisted on parting them to delve inward. From somewhere near, I heard a soft whimper of need I didn't recognize as my own as my tongue met his, entangled in the harshness of his demanding kiss.

Ending the kiss, he let his lips fall to the supple flesh of my neck, whispering heat against them, "Perfect for steel, Ava." Instinctively, I let my head crane gently to the right, feeling suddenly soft and pliant between the tarnsman and the wall, my eyes heavy-lidded as the tingling warmth seemed to spread through me from my belly. Lifting his lips from my skin, he spoke again.

"Look at me, Ava."

I couldn't help myself, the tarnsman my Master here if nowhere else. For this moment it was alright.

"Those eyes, those damn haunting eyes," he said with a frown of displeasure.

My brow was creased in confusion before he spoke again.

"Kneel, Ava," he commanded, letting my hands free of his.

I didn't question it as I slid languidly to my knees at his feet. For so long, I'd wanted to be exactly where I was. My heart was racing like the flapping of his tarn's wings as it attacked the course as he brought his fingers beneath my chin to lift it slightly. Unsheathing his tarn knife, he brought it to the fabric of my robes at my collarbone whispering, "You've haunted me, slave..."

And then I woke. Breathless I lay in the softness of the furs in my chamber, my bare breasts heaving with my hastened breath, my inner thighs dampened with desire. How grateful I was that it had been a dream. And how much more I wished it hadn't been.