Conquered: Spoils of War Ch. 04

Jolie knelt before her pallet in the tiny cell, head bowed. Her hands rested against her slightly swollen belly, the only visible evidence that she carried the King's child. As often did, the image of her sister and her father flowed through her mind, and sadness washed over her. She longed to see her family again. Jolie didn't want her baby born on an alien planet, far removed from everything familiar and dear.

Would the King let her go when he eventually tired of her? Or would she be imprisoned in his harem forever, a forgotten plaything having to suffer the petty meanness of his favourite love slave, Liana? Hopelessness welled in her at the horrid thought.

She was drawn from her meditations by the familiar footfalls of her attendant. Her head turned and lifted. Kiara stood at the entrance to her cell, a length of shimmery violet cloth draped over her arm.

Jolie sighed inwardly. Rising gracefully, she swept her long golden mane over a bare shoulder and turned. Long used to Kiara's way, Jolie held still as her wide, amber eyes were carefully outlined in black. Shimmery dust was brushed teasingly over her shoulders, breasts and belly. Jolie was familiar with Kiara's wicked little games, and refused to acknowledge the growing ache between her thighs. It was forbidden for an attendant and a love slave to have relations, yet Kiara delighted in tormenting Jolie, knowing that Jolie was also forbidden from finding her own solitary release.

At Kiara's instructions, Jolie silently held her arms aloft. Kiara expertly wrapped the sheer cloth around Jolie's curves and joined it over her left shoulder with a jewelled clasp of purple gems with mysterious magenta swirls in their depths. A gold chain was looped around her hips, and her hair was clipped back from her delicate face with a series of golden clasps.

Kiara stepped back to inspect Jolie, then smoothed the cloth over the thrust of Jolie's tiny breasts and the curve of her hips. Jolie knew the hard rosy tips were visible where they pressed against the flimsy material, and pink stained Jolie's cheeks at the thought of the heated gazes of the King's generals roving over her paleness as she was escorted through the palace. Yet none would dare touch or speak to her, for the new swirling tattoo on the small of her back distinguished her from the palace slaves, marking her as the King's personal property.

Jolie had been on Loas for several months now, yet still she was adjusting to their strange customs. She was a princess on her own world, and treated with the utmost respect. Here, she was the King's love slave, and it was expected that she satisfy her master's every whim when called upon to do so. Nudity and sex was not to be hidden behind closed doors on Loas, but something to be freely exhibited and enjoyed.

Jolie knew her circumstances were luckier than most. She was one of the handful of Alverdian women that had been brought to the palace rather than one of the many wenching houses of Loas. Intimacy with a man was something she had been unfamiliar with until her capture. It was the tradition on her world that upon a woman's twentieth birthday she would chose the man to whom she wished to join hands with. Jolie was not given that choice, but had spent her twentieth birthday in an alien palace in the arms of its King. Since that time the King had joined his body with hers a handful of times, and now she carried the fruits of his lust. The knowledge both terrified and excited her.

Jolie pushed her confused thoughts from her mind as Kiara led her along the wide halls of the palace. Before her the other Harem slaves fell into place, each accompanied by their attendant. Liana led the line, as was her right as the King's favourite. Jealousy stabbed at Jolie as she brought up the rear. She was the most recent addition to the King's harem, and her lowly status was reinforced by the knowledge that she was rarely called upon to service him. Her tiny stature, creamy skin and long golden hair only served to set her even further apart from the other loves slaves.

They eventually reached the wide, silver doors intricately carved with images of warring men and beasts that signalled the entrance to the main hall. Guards swung the doors wide, and heat swirled up over Jolie's cheeks as a roar filled the chamber. They were to be paraded through the throng of warriors, a visual demonstration of their King's virility and power.

A circular stage had been roped off in the centre of the hall for the night's entertainment. There was to be sparring among the prisoners. Those that had been sentenced to death for crimes they had committed were given an opportunity to redeem themselves in the eyes of the Loas gods. From the little Jolie understood, they would fight one another until the last remained. His or her victory was seen as a blessing of the gods, and would earn them their freedom.

The chamber fell to a hush as the love slaves moved along the pathway to a curtained dais overlooking the roped off area. Jolie felt as though a hundred pairs of eyes devoured her, rising up over the line of her legs, the sway of her hips, the thrust of her breasts.

Before her Liana moved up onto the dais where she arranged herself in a luscious display of colour and flesh behind the fall of gauzy curtains. The other slaves followed suit, gracefully laying about the favourite. Jolie had reached the bottom of the steps when a loud commotion stirred the crowd.

"Princess, Princess!" a voice cried, and Jolie halted abruptly. It took a moment for the reason to register: her native tongue. As though in her daze, her head turned as her gaze fell upon the man who threw himself on his knees before her. Golden hair gleamed in the light, setting him apart from the bronzed warriors of Loas. Yet the molded leather vest with silver insignia proclaimed him a Loas warrior. And then it hit her. Her world hadn't just been conquered when Jolie had been taken captive. It didn't end there. Her culture was being assimilated by the dominant people.

As Jolie struggled with the unwanted knowledge, hands closed around her arms, dragging her back as dozens of guards drew their swords, separating her from the man who bowed before her.

"No," she cried, snapping out of her reverie as the man's arms were brutally pinned behind his back. "No!" She unknowingly spoke in her own language as she tried to struggle from Kiara's grip. It was a penalty of death to address or touch one of the King's love slaves, and horror raced through her.

She pulled free of Kiara's grasp, leaning down to whisper in her own language "Please rise."

He shook his head, his eyes never leaving the floor. "You are my princess. It is wrong that this has been done to you."

She swallowed hard, knowing by 'this' he meant whore. "Forget this, and return to your place. They will kill you otherwise."

Her hand reached instinctively to lift his face to hers when he shook his head. Only a sword halted the movement midair, the flat of the blade resting against her wrist.

"You will not touch another," a voice commanded angrily, and the warriors fell to their knees before their King. Only Jolie, in her distress, didn't, and found herself tugged unceremoniously to her knees by her attendant.

"My Lord, this man addressed your Korva, and we sought to restrain him," a guard informed his King.

A black eyebrow raised as he gaze fell upon the Alverdian. The man's face was impassive, his eyes never rising from the ground before Jolie.

"I did not address your Korva, my lord. I addressed my princess," the man ground out, jaw clenched.

Arik gazed down upon the man for what seemed an age. "Take him back to the warriors quarters. I will deal with him later."

The guards rose and roughly dragged the unresisting man to his feet.

"My Lord," Jolie began, her throat dry as she watched the man led off. "What he said is true, and he can't be held responsible for his actions. I will accept punishment on his behalf."

Fingers bit into her chin as Arik turned her face up to him. Narrowed green eyes locked with Jolie's, and fear shivered down her spine. Jolie steeled herself to meet their disturbing intensity, remembering full well the indignities she had suffered the last time she had displeased him. She forced herself to murmur between bloodless lips, "If - if it pleases you, my Lord."

"Take her to my chambers. Make sure she is secured to the hayan," he addressed her attendant. He turned and strode away.

A tinkling laugh drew her attention, and her eyes rose to the dais. The icy gaze of Liana met hers. Jolie swallowed hard, wondering what new torments the other love slave would dream up now that Liana had discovered Jolie was a princess.

Kiara drew Jolie to her feet and escorted her back the way they had come. Guards fell in silently before and behind them.

~*~

Jolie stood before the arched windows that reached from floor to ceiling of the King's inner chamber. She gazed upon at the heavy red moon suspended over the dark jungles of Loas, so different from the delicate trio of silver orbs over Alverda.

The opening of the doors made no sound, yet the prickling on the back of her neck made her aware of his presence. She couldn't face him, the jingling on the chain connected to the gold circlet around her throat told its own story as she anxiously awaited his decree.

"Look at me," he commanded.

Jolie wanted to deny him, to scream and shout at him. The indignity of finding herself chained to a bolt in the centre of the room gnawed at her frayed nerves. Yet to do as her pride demanded could cost a man his life.

Slowly she turned, and the possessiveness in those deep green eyes sent heat surging through her. He had discarded his vest, and her eyes moved over the black breeches and boots to rest of the bronzed masculinity of his chest and arms. A traitorous throb began between her thighs.

"You lied to me."

Jolie's lashes lowered to hide the emotions storming through her. He strode toward her, like a beast stalking his prey. She backed instinctively away from him, circling a low carved chest.

"Why did you not tell me the truth when the opportunity arose?"

"You - you told me that you would not let the princess go, even if you found her." He merely raised an eyebrow. She bumped up against a wooden robe, and she gazed about her, seeking some form of escape, and knowing there would be none. "I - what purpose could it serve?"

Jolie had only taken two steps before the chain pulled taut, dragging her to a halt. Her hands flew to her throat as she turned to gaze at him with growing trepidation. His hand gripped the chain, wrapping it around his wrist. She stumbled toward him, her golden eyes wide. Anger visibly leapt from his every pore.

"You lied to your King."

"You are not-" The breath shuddered from her lungs as he tugged brutally on the chain until she was a mere arms length from him. She stood before him with her shoulders back, glaring straight ahead at his chest. Every muscle in her body strained as she refused to bend beneath the pressure of the chain and close that last little distance. Some part of her knew that she should back down, yet her anger refused to be controlled. "Yes, I am Princess Jolina. Yes, I didn't tell you. Why should I? I would rather my family believe me dead than a..."

"Than a what?" he inquired softly.

Jolie ground her teeth. He knew, but obviously wanted the satisfaction of hearing her say it. "Then knowing I was forced to whore for a man."

His nostrils flared. "It is of the highest honour to serve the King."

His arrogance almost took her breath away. "Perhaps to the women born of this world, who aspire to no other life than that of a love slave at the beck and call of a man. On my world, I am a free woman, with choices. Here, I am a man's plaything, locked up and isolated. I cannot chose what I am to eat or to wear or whether I am to sleep alone or-"

Hands closed around her upper arms, dragging her up against him. His flesh burned through the thinness of the cloth, and she felt her nipples tighten where they rubbed against his solid flesh. Fingers curled around her pale throat, his thumb resting beneath her chin tilting her head back.

"You insult me. I have given you my protection and ensured that you receive every comfort. Would you prefer to lie beneath a trader whose brutal desires would no doubt result in your death? You are tiny, and your body struggles to accept mine, yet I have shown you gentleness that many would consider a weakness. Yet you dare question my authority."

The unintentional cruelty of his words beat at her. Angry tears pricked at her. "What of other Alverdians that have no doubt experienced this fate? You speak of slavery as though a fact of life. Yet as King, you could abolish slavery."

"You harangue me, spit at me, calling into question the foundation of society in which I rule and you live. Womanly wiles would be more conducive to securing a man's life, surely?"

She gasped at the unfairness of his words. "You pig-" she began, but her angry tirade was cut off as his lips closed over hers. Fingers tangled in the curls at her nape, holding her prisoner beneath the hot, searching mouth.

The kiss was punishing, brutal, leaving her breathless. Fingers curled over the clasp of her shoulder, and her fingers closed over them. "Don't."

"You dare refuse me?"

Jolie's eyes flashed. The incredibility in his voice gave her the strength to push his hand away. The man was an arrogant, spoilt bastard if he expected her to ignore the chain linked to the collar around her throat and simply spread her legs.

Jolie twisted away from him, but he caught her by her upper arm, swinging her back around. His head lowered as his mouth sought hers, but she turned her face. His lips caressed her cheek, before his teeth nipped her lobe warningly.

Jolie's lashes fluttered as his hands slid down over her hips to cup her bottom, drawing her firmly up against him. She squirmed against the burning heat pulsing against her belly, feeling the nervous anticipation flutter there.

Arik's mouth slid over her cheek, seeking her mouth, his breath warm against her skin. His heat surrounded her, the male scent of him teasing her. A whimper escaped her as he tugged on the violet sheath. The jewelled clasp bit into her flesh as the material was torn from her body, sending the clasp spinning across the floor.

Firm hands settled on her hips, turning her in his arms and drawing her back up against his chest. Hands glided possessively over her creamy nakedness, touching, caressing. They closed over her tender breasts, molding them to the shape of his palms. His mouth opened over her bare shoulder, sucking on the tiny bead of blood.

Jolie moaned as he rolled and pinched her rosy nipples, dewy heat gathering between her thighs. She writhed and arched against him, her bottom riding the hard ridge nestled against it. She hated Arik. She hated what he had done to her, making a slave of her. Yet her body craved him with a need that was disturbing.

A shiver raced through her as his tongue swirled over her neck. His warm breath stirred the golden tendrils at her nape as he bit and sucked on the soft flesh. A thigh wedged itself between hers, the supple leather teasing the skin of her inner thighs. Her secret place readied itself for his possession, glistening with need.

A hand slid down over her belly to cup her bare mound and she quivered. Her head fell back against his shoulder as he stroked the soft pink flesh. Her nails bit into her palms to keep from touching him as she drowned in his forceful seduction. "Arik," she moaned, and he chuckled softly against her ear.

"Your body knows its master," he murmured as his fingers probed her dewy gate. Jolie stiffened at his words, humiliation burning through her. She was his slave, naked, chained to a bolt on the floor, yet her body ached to be filled with his velvety flesh sliding up between her thighs.

Jolie tore herself from him, intent on putting as much distance as possible between them. She had taken barely three steps before the chain halted her flight. She glanced swiftly over her shoulder, and her eyes widened with a mixture of fear and excitement as he strode toward her, his breeches straining.

"You are not my master," some devil inside of her made her declare. The words seemed to inflame him. He caught her around her waist, lifting her off her feet. He carried her to the soft bed of pillows and furs in the centre of the chamber, tossing her down upon them. She scrambled into a sitting position, her hands clutching the pillows behind her as she gazed up at him rebelliously. Arik stood above her, yanking at the ties of his breeches, his eyes never leaving hers. She swallowed hard as he pushed them down over his hips, his large, heavy cock springing free.

He was hard and fully aroused as he kicked off his breeches and knelt on the cushions. A large hand curled around her ankle, and she kicked out as he dragged her toward him. Her fingers raked over the pillows as she fought to grip hold of something, her young body twisting and cavorting before him as a wild desperation overtook her.

"You will acknowledge me as your King, your master," he muttered as his other hand closed around the knee of her free leg, drawing her closer. "You are mine, to do with as I please."

"No!" Jolie tossed cushions at him as she struggled to free herself. Hands cupped beneath her knees pulled her thighs apart, exposing her glistening shame to his triumphant gaze. She moaned as he lowered himself on top of her, his weight pinning her wiggling body beneath him. His muscled flesh imprinted itself on hers as his mouth captured hers.

She kissed him back even as she struggled against him, her soft pale skin sliding against his warm, muscled flesh. Fire flamed in her clenching channel as her tongue tangled with his, her small fists beating at his shoulders. His legs wedged themselves between hers, forcing them wider apart. She was unable to close herself against him even if she wanted to, and heat stole up over her face at the feel of him nestled against her slick pink valley.

"Why do you fight me when your body begs for mine?" Arik demanded roughly against her mouth. He dragged her hands above her head, pinning them there with one hand. His other slid over her belly to cup her firmly between her legs, exploring her molten heat.

Jolie moaned, arching her hips as he stoked her silken flesh, urging him on. Her nails dug into his hand as her feet slid along the backs of his legs. Fingers plunged inside her quivering heat, stretching her, and she cried out.

"Tell me you want me."

She shook her head mutinously. He merely raised an eyebrow before his head dipped lower, his mouth capturing a rosy peak. She squirmed as he suckled her, arrows of heat shooting down between her spread thighs. What little control she had was slipping as fingers explored deep within her slick channel.

Her eyes fluttered shut as she struggled to ignore his touch, yet she was unable to prevent the frenzy of need rising over her neglected flesh. It had been so long since his punishment, of the feel of his body moving in hers. Shameful moisture seeped from her sheath as his hands and mouth tormented her. "Arik..." she pleaded. Her traitorous body pressed down on the slowly gliding fingers of its own accord.

"Your body is too sweetly responsive to win this game, princess," he chuckled against her damp breast. Jolie whimpered as his fingers eased from her, her brow furrowing in frustration. The breath stilled in her chest as his hand guided his cock to her dewy gate. He nudged against her slick heat, the tip of him lodging in her narrow channel. She whimpered, her thighs gripping his hips.