The Palace Ch. 05

The hard tip of the anal plug intruded, and it slipped in with only a little difficulty and minimal pain. His hand moved lower, his fingers found my center of pleasure, and he rubbed until I moaned and wriggled, desire growing within me and crowding out my fear.

"Be still, sweet girl," he murmured, with a hint of amusement, and withdrew his hand.

He lay something across the small of my back, narrow and hard, extending to either side of me and rolling with every breath. The cane? Above it, another object, this one flat, wide, but equally unforgiving. The paddle, of course.

He pressed the cold edge of the knife against my warm flesh, denting the soft tissue just to the left of my backbone. I gritted my teeth, determined not to incur his wrath while he held the sharp blade. A whimper escaped my control, my fingers twitched, and he lifted the knife and lay it above the paddle, balanced in the middle of my back.

"Can you guess what we're going to do, my lovely Catalyn?" he asked.

I had my suspicions. "Yes, Master."

"I'm sure you've discerned which three objects I've placed on your back. As we proceed, any implement that falls from your back will be the next I use. Keep still, control yourself, and you shall taste only the flogger and the belt. Can you do that, sweet girl?"

How could I possibly keep still during a lashing? He hadn't even restrained me! "I don't know, Master," I breathed.

"Then we will find out together."

I became very conscious of the three tools perched precariously on my body. My breast itched again where he'd cut me, and my buttocks clenched, renewing my awareness of the anal plug. I shivered. The cane rolled, then stilled.

I sensed him positioning himself beside me, but I had squeezed my eyes shut and turned my focus inward, concentrating on making it through this test without my blood being shed.

The flogger struck, a mild sting to the outside of my left buttock. I flinched, having expected more pain, and the paddle rocked and slipped sideways. I breathed deeply and tried to angle my body the opposite way, hoping to slide it back into place, but a second lash caught me as I moved, this one much stronger, across both buttocks. I yelped as the flash of pain flared and faded. A third struck, a fourth, a fifth, and I held myself still by the barest of margins, though I tensed my thighs and clenched my fists.

A flurry of lashes rained down on my bottom, my thighs, my hips, the flicking tails of the flogger leaving a bright, persistent sting wherever they struck, until my skin burned and my fingernails dug into my palms with the effort of remaining in place. A final powerful blow caused my hips to lift off the bed, and I cringed as the cane became unseated. It wobbled, tilted, but did not fall. I was afraid to breathe, sure that any change in my position would cause it to roll away.

"Well done, sweet girl," Master said.

I exhaled as slowly as I could and took a shallow breath. The cane wavered, one end dipping toward the bed. Master waited. Then, mercifully, he re-centered it.

"I will grant you one favor," he said with a chuckle. "But only one."

The words were ominous enough that I shuddered, nearly undoing his "favor."

"And now the belt."

I was anticipating a blow to my already tenderized bottom, so the sharp pain to the sole of my foot was all the more shocking. My body went rigid as the pain traveled up my leg, and I kicked and recoiled as tears sprang to my eyes. The cane tumbled off of my back, but, miraculously, the paddle and knife did not.

Master struck again without comment, this one to my other foot, and my reaction was much the same. My chest seized, and I coughed, unable to inhale. Tears spilled over, and I wailed.

Still the paddle and the knife did not fall. If he hit me yet again like that, I knew I would not be able to bear it. And I had yet to face the cane.

Master caressed my calves, ran his palms up my legs, and picked up the cane.

"One to each foot, or ten to the buttocks?" he asked.

The soles of my feet pulsed with the lingering pain of the belt, but my bottom, too, was sore from the flogger. And the cane would eclipse both with its blazing, bruising stripes. I swallowed, sniffled, and flexed my toes. "The feet, Master," I whispered.

"The feet," he echoed. "My brave girl." Approval rang strong in his tone. I had pleased him.

I bit down on the blanket beneath me and gathered more fabric in my fists. Master tapped my heel with the tip of the cane, and I locked my knees and held my breath.

He struck, and the thin rod landed on the arch of my foot. My breath rushed out of my lungs in a cry so loud half the manor should have heard me, and my body wanted to curl into a protective ball, but my locked knees and sheer willpower thwarted that impulse. My foot throbbed, and I felt sure I would not be able to walk for the rest of the day.

And there was yet another strike to endure.

Again, he tapped my heel, took aim, and struck. I pushed up on my hands and arched my back as the agony shot up my leg and muted my thoughts to a buzz. I did not breathe for several seconds.

As the pain began to fade, I relaxed bit by bit, and only then did I realize that the knife no longer rested in the middle of my back.

Master removed the paddle and retrieved the knife from beside me. "My sweet girl, do you fear the blade?" He brought it into my field of vision, and I could not look away. A blade the length of my hand, glinting in the sunlight from the window, and an ornate, jeweled handle that fit comfortably in Master's grip.

"Yes, Master."

Excitement danced in his eyes. "Turn over."

I rolled to my back, and Master placed the paddle on my stomach. I was not to be spared it by circumstance. He put the knife down and shed his clothing, then climbed up on the bed and pushed my legs apart so he could kneel between them. His cock was hard, his arousal stoked by my terror.

Holding the knife in his fist, he leaned forward to nuzzle my neck, kissed my lips, moved lower to tongue my nipples. Despite my fear, my body responded to his touch, and I felt a tug deep inside. A low moan sounded in my throat as he sucked one nipple into his mouth, igniting my pleasure as easily as he inflicted pain.

He moved lower still, parted the lips of my vagina, and his tongue found my clitoris, already engorged with my need. As his tongue flicked against my hardened nub, he worked the anal plug free.

I bucked my hips at the bursts of pleasure his tongue provoked, his restrained motion a contrast with the indescribable bliss growing within me.

He threw the paddle aside. I had forgotten its presence, so focused was I on my nether regions, though some part of me remembered that he still held the knife. The bursts of joy coalesced into an all-encompassing bubble, and as I became overwhelmed with the sensations, he stopped, crawled back up my body, and plunged his cock into me. He withdrew, then thrust again, his face hovering over mine, his free hand against my wrists to keep them in place above my head, and the hand holding the knife resting beside my shoulder.

He lowered his head to kiss me, and as he had done two nights ago, at the height of his kiss, with his cock buried deep within me, he pressed the knife into the soft flesh of my breast. I squealed, struggled against him. The blade skidded along the curve of my breast but did not cut.

He began to thrust again, fast and hard, kissed me again, his breath becoming ragged, his brow furrowed, eyes locked on mine. Pain and fear and pleasure coursed through me in turns, and I stared up at him, lips parted, waiting.

He withdrew, pushed my knees toward my chest, and nudged the head of his cock into my anus. He entered slowly, still gazing down at me. I felt no pain at his penetration, only an intense pressure that resolved into greater heights of desire. My need pulsed, threatened to explode, and then did, and I screamed my climax as the blade finally bit into the inner slope of my breast. A trickle of blood accompanied Master's own cry, and he crushed his lips against mine, driving his cock into me again, and again, and again.

A groan, and he collapsed atop me. His cock twitched, softened, and slipped free. He kissed my cheek and rolled off of me, gathered me in his arms and held me against his chest. I had never felt quite as secure as I did in that moment, and I relaxed into him.

"My sweet Catalyn," he murmured after a time. "Do you like horses?"

"Yes, Master."

"Then you shall have a horse."

"Master?"

"Yes, my sweet girl?"

"Will you—will we—" I did not know how to ask this question. "Is this what I can expect as your slave here?"

His laughter rumbled in my ear. "Is it so horrible?"

"No, Master." But that did not answer my question.

"I promised you a life of luxury and service only to me, and I keep my word."

"Yes, Master."

"And now, unfortunately, I have many things to attend to, and so I must leave you alone. I will have Glynn draw you a bath, and then she will give you a tour of the grounds." He kissed the top of my head and extricated himself from our tangle of limbs.

"Yes, Master."

****

Over the next several weeks, Master was very busy with the census, but he came to me most days. Though not every session was as involved or intense as the first, many were an exhilarating and confusing combination of pain and pleasure, loving words and harsh punishment. I became accustomed to my role, though I still was not comfortable giving instructions or orders to the servants.

It was Glynn who noticed my belly becoming round and my breasts growing.

"Miss, it is not my place to ask," she began as she soaped my back one evening in the bath, "but as you and the Governor have been spending a great deal of time together ..." She trailed off. "Miss, has the Governor, perhaps, planted his seed within you?"

It took me a moment to comprehend her meaning, and when I did, my head swam. "It's not possible!" I said.

"But of course it is, Miss."

"No. They said I would not—" Glynn did not know I had come from the Palace, of course, and I cut off with horror. Master had whisked me away before the procedure to sterilize me could be performed. "No. No, it cannot be."

"But you should be pleased, Miss!"

Memories of my mother's death assaulted me, my baby sister wailing, my father's grief. "It can't be."

Glynn reached for a towel and assisted me out of the tub and to the bed. "You are very pale," she said.

"It can't be, Glynn," I repeated.

Glynn patted my hand and offered me a robe. She helped me sit up, wrapped the robe around me, and propped some pillows behind me. "Would you like some tea, or perhaps some broth?"

I stared at her. She could not possibly understand. I had gone to the Palace so that I would not be burdened with pregnancy and family. Master would not want me now. What kind of slave could I be to him heavy with child, tethered to a baby? I would be cast aside to die in childbirth like my mother. "Please don't tell the Governor," I whispered.

Glynn shrugged. "If you say so, Miss, but may I say, he will find out soon enough."

A clean cut would be best. If I told him immediately, leaving would be less painful, and I would have time to find someplace to go before the baby came. "Will you ask him to come to me, please?" I had never summoned him, but I could not wait until he found time for me.

"Yes, Miss."

After Glynn left, I secured the robe around myself and went out to the sitting room. I paced as I awaited him, unable to still my body or my mind.

Master appeared after an interminable several minutes. "Sweet girl, you are crying. What is so urgent? Are you hurt?" He approached, reached for me, but I ducked away. "Catalyn!"

"Master, I—" I could not force the words from my mouth. "I believe—" I turned away. "I do not want to leave you."

"I don't understand."

"I believe—I know—that you will not want me when I tell you what has happened."

"Impossible, sweet girl. What could you possibly have done that you believe that of me?"

"I have not done anything, Master, but you have. You have—" What were Glynn's words? "You have planted your seed within me, and now I will be useless to you." I met his eyes.

He comprehended my statement no faster than I had Glynn's. He mouthed the words, examined them, and grunted in understanding. He sank heavily onto a sofa. "I did not allow them to perform the procedure, and then I brought you home before—oh, my sweet Catalyn. You carry my child!"

"I believe so, Master." I wiped my eyes with my sleeve. "Master, will you at least grant me a room in the servants' quarters? I have nowhere to go. Perhaps I can be of use some other way?" Surely he would not put me out on the street.

"The servants' quarters? Why would I—" He rose, strode over to me. I trembled, but he engulfed me in a tight embrace. "How could I banish the mother of my child to thankless labor? No, my lovely, lovely girl. Do you think so little of me?"

"I'm afraid, Master."

"Of what? I promised I would never send you away. I told you, I keep my word."

One fear abated, but another remained, and my tears continued. "I will die, Master. I will die in pain and my child will never know me."

"No. It will not happen." He took my face in his hands and kissed my forehead. "You shall have the best care money can buy. You will be healthy, and so will our child. I promise, Catalyn." He brushed away my tears with his thumbs. "I promise. Do you believe me?"

"Yes, Master," I whispered. "But—"

He kissed my lips. "I am so pleased, my sweet girl."

How could this be the same man who had so brutally tormented me not six weeks ago? Indeed, he was not. And I was not the same girl who had walked through the doors of the Palace and into this world I could not have imagined. "Yes, Master."