The Will of the Gods Ch. 04

Thank you for all of your comments and support. To those I confused, my apologies for the uncertainty. To those I angered, my apologies for your disappointment. To those who are invested, expect a relatively quick turnaround on the chapters as the story is already written and so the only thing you're waiting on is a final edit. To those of you who expressed excitement, I hope you find satisfaction in the story I'm telling. Thank you to all.

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Regina felt herself pulled from sleep too soon. Her eyelids were heavy, but something was stirring inside of her, preventing her from slumber. As she forced her mind into consciousness, she realized the stirring was her wanton little friend, with whom she had only just recently made an acquaintance. True to form, the new being inside of her was pumping her hips into Gregar's probing hand as he cupped her mound gently. She tried to make herself stop, but only stilled slightly. A stifled moan escaped her lips.

"You're up," Gregar purred against her ear, tenderly. It made the flesh of her neck where she felt his breath against her skin tingle like he had touched her. His voice was so soft and gentle, as if he had not spent the night before making welts on her skin—burning a brand deep into her thigh. His voice came again, so soft she barely heard it. "Who are you?"

Her lips tightened into a flat line. Strengthened by sleep, her resolve sprung forth anew. Granted, it had not been the most soothing night of sleep. Several times, she had stirred at the feeling of hands on her thighs or tweaking the bud of her nipple. Each time, she had wanted to protest, but found her half-sleeping self aching for the caresses, giving into the hands that roamed her. Still blindfolded, she could not be certain whether the caresses had been real or if they were figments of her hedonistic imagination. Either way, she found herself awake in the same aching state that he had left her in the night before.

Today, though, she would not give in. Regina told herself she could handle his punishments. She could take the crop, the whip, or the back of his hand. She would not give in to the pleasure just because it was better than the punishment. She would remain strong. The gods might have willed her to him, but she did not have to give into her new role easily.

Teeth gritted, she answered, "Princess Regina, Lady of Trandon, daughter of the true king, heir to the kingdom of Eldon."

Regina anticipated a slap. She was ready for it. Her body tightened to brace herself for the pain.

Instead, Gregar chuckled. He had been expecting just this response. In fact, he welcomed it. "Oh? So last night that was Princess Regina with me, not a slave?"

His voice hinted that she might be walking into a trap. Regina hesitated a moment before responding. "Yes."

Again, Regina tensed, she had not used his title. Again, none came. "And that was the princess who begged me to make her cum?"

His fingers, only gently cupping her mound before, pushed between the folds of her sex. He traced her labia with his index and middle finger, felt her shiver. The girl hesitated, but finally she nodded.

"And that was the princess who so eagerly sucked my cock?"

"I didn't eagerly su—"

"You did, wren." His index finger found her clit as he cut her off and circled it teasingly. Regina's breath caught in her chest. She wanted him to press his finger to it, wanted the shockwaves to pour over her skin, pound through her veins. But nothing quite happened because he would not press. All he did was circle, just close enough to make her flush with desire. Her body quivered as she fought back the plea that threatened to leave her lips.

"I've never seen a girl take to sucking a cock so quickly." He watched red creep into her cheeks as she wondered if that was true.

She had only done what he had told her to do, didn't she? Eager seemed like an overstatement.

He let his finger just barely skim the tip of her aching bud and heard a relctantly delighted gasp. Her cheeks turned redder as he chuckled again.

"So was that the princess who just cooed, then?"

"Yes," she whispered reluctantly.

His hands left her, and he stood up from the bed, pulling on his pants before seating himself at his desk and taking a quill from his inkwell. Momentarily forgetting the blindfold, Regina craned her head in an attempt to see him. The chains around her wrists clinked, stopping her from sitting up.

"What are you doing?" She could hear him shuffling parchment, heard the quill scratching against the paper.

"Writing a letter," he told her matter-of-factly. "To Crestoff."

Regina tensed and pulled at the locks that held her wrists. "Wh—why?"

"He should know. He should know that the princess, his betrothed, moaned and screamed in another man's arms just hours after her kidnapping. Not just any man, either. She allowed the man challenging her father's right to the throne to bring her to a thrilling climax." He paused pensively. "Yes, that's exactly how I'll phrase it."

She heard more scratching and found herself rendered speechless by his words.

"Then, he continued. "Last night after the princess begged for another orgasm, she prostrated herself before him and proceeded to, by her own admission, eagerly suck the length of his cock and swallowed every last drop of his seed."


"No, please don't say that. He'll tell my father."

"Why not? He should know."

"I didn't—you made me."

"I made you beg?" He made a chiding noise with his tongue. "No, no. As I recall, your pleas were your own. I never asked for them... You know who else should know about this? The people of Eldon. I'm going to write another dispatch to the town crier at the capital when I finish this letter to your beloved. On a fast horse, a soldier should be able to arrive by this evening." His words tumbled out as if he had been seized by a sudden stroke of genius. He sounded very pleased with himself.

"You can't!" She tried again to get out of her bonds, fuming with anger. "It isn't true!"

"Well, if the princess is giving herself to her father's enemies, the people need to be told." He paused and, careful to be quite silent, moved closer to the bed. Her nose wrinkled as she sputtered in anger, nearly inarticulate as she grasped for words.

"However," Gregar's voice came from much closer now, and soft. She turned her head toward him, stilling herself to hear his words. "If a slave girl had done those things..." He grazed her ankle with the tips of his fingers, stepping forward to slide them up to her knee. "That wouldn't be news, would it?"


"No." She admitted, twisting in her ties as she felt his fingers moving higher, tracing the top of her slit ever so gently. Her body responded despite the cold, logical cruelty of his words.

"No," he agreed, his voice dripping with mirth. "That would just be business as usual, wouldn't it?"

"Yes."

"Yes, and I wouldn't have to write any letters, would I?" As he spoke, he played almost absent-mindedly with the skin of her labia, fingering it gently and without purpose.

She felt her pulse quickening hungrily as his fingers played so close to her throbbing sex.

"No," the word was almost a plea.

"Neither your father nor your lover—"

"He's not my lover," she bit back quickly.

Gregar ignored her. "—would not have to bear the burden of how easily and willingly you had given yourself to me, would they?"

Regina shook her head no.

"So then who was the girl in the room last night?"

After a long pause, she responded quietly "Regina."

"Princess Regina?"

"No titles," she replied, her teeth gritted.

"And is Regina, without titles, a princess or an heir?"

"No."

"What is Regina?"

"A slave."

He pinched the lips of her cunt so hard that she cried out in pain. "And how does a slave address her owner?"

"Master," she whimpered softly.

"Good girl." He began to tease her clit again, making those gentlen circles with his fingers. The circles grew slowly tighter until he was grazing the edges of her soft bud. She began to make low, ruffling noises of pleasure, her hips twisting in the furs of the bed. "Do you like it when I play with your cunt, Regina?"

"Yes, Master."

"Say it." He teased her lips open wider, letting his thumb roll ever so gently against her clit.

"I like when you play with m—me, Master."

"With your cunt," he corrected.

"Yes, Master."


"Say it." His thumb pressed a little harder. She felt the yearning inside of her building as he moved his finger against her bud. Little murmurs of pleasure escaped her.

"I like it when you play with my cunt, Master." She was surprised she could even speak, her mind was so occupied with the brink of pleasure that he was bringing her toward. Her head pressed into the pillow as she arched her body backwards, thrusting her hips up to his fingers to drive him harder against her, her hips writhing in an attempt to make his fingers move over her faster.

"What are you?" He asked again.

"A slave, Master," her voice was a squeal of pleasure.

"To whom do you belong?"

"To you, Master. To you." She tossed her head to the side, burying half her face in the pillow as she grasped at the chain that bound her hands, desperate to find something to cling to as her body's ache deepened.

"Good girl." His hands disappeared.

Regina almost screamed in protest, her hips pushing against the empty air. 'Not again,' she thought. Not when she was so close.

When he touched her again, his fingers were at her mouth. They were covered in the slick juices of her desire. "Lick me clean."

Her mouth opened without hesitation. She was disappointed to find that she did not want to fight him. She ran her tongue over his fingers, tasting herself on him.

"Good, wren," he smiled as she finished licking her juices from his fingers. Taking either ankle, he strapped her to the bed so that her legs were spread wide, rendering her completely vulnerable. He tugged slightly at either binding to be sure it held fast before uttering, "I'll be back."

With that, he left the tent.

Gregar stepped into the morning light, elated. The girl chained in his tent had been pushed farther in a day and a half than most girls got in a week. Of course, most girls were nowhere near as significant to their masters as Regina was to him.

He went to the chow tent near the fire. Most of the soldiers woke at the crack of dawn. Only a few who had taken the night shift were here now. They greeted him with japes at Regina's expense. He smiled and joked back for as long as he had to, then freed himself and went to the cook.

Gregar allowed little room for inactivity in his men, but provided the cook an exception. The morale of the men relied on the corpulent chef's ability to render fantastic what little they brought in from the woods. The man was a genius with woodland creatures. He could make a squirrel stew taste decadent with only his knowledge of wild herbs and grasses. Gregar liked to joke that if the strength of his claim to the throne did not win the common folk's young fighters over, then it was his cook's food that got them to sign their contracts.

"Breakfast, your Highness?" The man said, shuffling forward and wiping his greasy hands on a large, once-white apron.

Gregar nodded.

"Wonderful, my liege. I saved you eggs. Anything... else?" He faltered nervously as if afraid he was not supposed to mention the girl.

Gregar smiled. "Just some meat and, if you have any, berries."

"Yes, your Highness. Of course." He hurried to prepare the meal.

"And," Gregar added. "The tea."

In the tent, Regina struggled against her bindings, completely exasperated. He had made sure she could not finish what he had started. She could hardly move, much less bring herself to orgasm. Disappointingly satisfied with the strength of the chains, she let her head fall back against the pillow.

She could not even stare around the room. The blindfold was still fastened tightly around her eyes. It was made of some strangely clingy material that seemed to grow tighter the more she tried to undo it. She let a bored sigh pass her lips and tried to make herself comfortable. It would seem easy enough, laid out in a bed covered in soft, supple furs. Yet, she could not seem to find any relaxation at all. Her hips twisted, aching for relief.

Her stomach grumbled. Regina could not remember the last time she had eaten. How had she not felt it before? Maybe she had been too nervous to eat in all the anxiety of yesterday. Now that she had noticed it, however, her stomach seemed to be eating itself.

Great, she thought, another part of her left unsatisfied.

Her nose twitched. Something smelled like roasted meat and, perhaps, eggs. She could not quite tell what kind of meat it was. Like pork, but gamey. Perhaps boar? But she had only had that once or twice. Why did she smell it now?

"Perhaps," she remarked to the back of her blindfold. "I am going crazy. It smells like food."

Gregar chuckled, his voice quite close. "You're perfectly sane."

She nearly came out of her skin at the sudden intrusion.

"Gods, warn me when you're nearby if you insist on walking so quietly. I can't see a thing, Master." The last word came a little begrudgingly, but she was not foolish enough to disregard his title when he was so temptingly close to feeding her.

"Why?" He feigned incredulity as he stroked her stomach with one hand. He saw her tense at his touch. She did not answer, but even chained he could see her body grow wary as he stroked her. "Do I make you nervous, wren?"

She shook her head no.

"Are you afraid I'll touch you?" His voice dripped with amusement. He trailed his fingers from her stomach to her naked breast and gently teased one already hardening nipple. "Or are you afraid you'll like it if I do?"

"I—I don't know, Master" her voice teetered somewhere between misery and desire.

He liked the honesty of her answer and pulled his hand away. Sliding into the bed beside her, he propped himself on his elbow and laid the tray of food on her stomach. "If it falls, I'll get the crop."

She did not doubt him and stayed still.

With one hand, he lifted her head. He pressed something warm and ceramic to her lips. It smelled vaguely of licorice. "Drink," he told her.

Regina took a sip and nearly spit it out. It tasted like grass and dirt. She gagged.

"All of it," he said, tilting it upward again. When she finished, he set the cup on the table.

"What was that?"

"Barren tea." He shrugged. The words made her shudder slightly. "I've heard it's a weird taste, but slaves get used to it over time."

She had heard of barren tea, although she had never smelled it before. It was popular among slaves and prostitutes, people who needed an assurance that they would not get pregnant. The thought made her swallow nervously.

"It's awful."

He chuckled. "Well, it's better than the alternative. I understand pregnancy is not altogether pleasant."

She shivered. The tea was a promise. It made her throat go dry.

"Now then," he remarked, taking a morsel of meat and touching it to her lips. Regina could smell the juices. She opened her mouth to take the food, but he instantly pulled it back. "Would you like to eat?"

"Yes, Master."

He made a noise of disappointment, clucking his tongue. "Is that how a slave asks for something?"

"Please, Master." He let the morsel touch her lips again and she opened her mouth to eat it. He pulled back just enough so that she could still reach it if she tried. She picked her head up from the pillow, following the movement of his hand until she could not lift herself any further. She let out a frustrated groan as she reached the end of the chain. Just once, she wished he would be easy to deal with.

"I didn't believe you," he explained.

"Please, Master. I'm hungry." She begged, her voice laden with irritation. He could almost see a massive eye roll through the blindfold. She heard him eat it himself, making an obnoxious degree of slovenly noises. Her head dropped back against the pillow and she gave an aggravated twitch in the chains. If she were free to do so, he was certain she would have stomped her foot.

"If you're really hungry, you should be much more convincing." Regina heard him take another piece of food from the plate and raised her head hopefully. He ate it again, smacking his lips. "It's quite as good as it smells. We have an excellent chef."

He picked up another morsel. She raised her head as he brought it toward her lips.

"Please," she asked, trying to make her voice as pathetic as possible. "Please, Master."

Her stomach was growling like a wild beast. She could smell the aroma wafting up from the food in his hand.

"What would you do for it?"

She cocked her head slightly, surprised by the question. Biting her lip, she thought for a second. "I don't know, Master. What would you like me to do?" It seemed a submissive enough answer to her.

"That's a dangerous road, girl. And it isn't what I asked."

She thought another moment. "I would..." Her mind was blank. Between the aching of her loins and the stern demands of her stomach, it was difficult to think. What would someone like him want from her, she wondered. There were several things that popped into her mind, none of them things she was willing to agree to for a piece of food.

"... Kiss your hand," she ventured.

"It's a start," Gregar agreed, and held out his hand so that his thumb grazed her lip. She stretched forward and gave it a soft peck. "Better than that, girl or I'll think you don't want to eat at all."

She tried again, wrapping her soft lips around the tip of his finger, letting it linger momentarily before pulling her lips away from him with a soft pop.

Gregar felt his manhood begin to stiffen as he offered her a small morsel of food. Regina's eyes nearly crossed in pleasure as it touched her tongue. She ate it ravenously, hardly chewing before she swallowed it and opened her mouth once more.

"Would you like another?" Gregar asked.

Regina nodded.

"What would you do?"

"Kiss your hand again, Master," she offered.

"That one's been done, try another." Her head fell back on the pillow with an exasperated sigh.

Everything was impossible. Everything was a test. Every moment she was with him, he made her give a little more. She hated it. She didn't want to live like this. She gave an angry jerk against her bindings as she heard him eating. She was absolutely certain the obnoxious smacking noises were for her benefit. No lord of his rank was raised without knowing how to chew quietly. She wished she could kick him.

He let her fume for a few minutes. "I'll gladly finish the plate myself," he told her. "But if you want me to share, you'll have to keep trying." She rolled her eyes behind the blindfold. He smirked. She was acting like a brat, so he would continue to treat her like one. "Sulking is not going to help your cause."

Regina brooded quietly, listening to him eat. She wanted to wait him out. Let him finish the plate—she doubted he would really let her starve to death. Her stomach, however, would not let her. It was painfully devouring itself.

With a heavy sigh, she gave in. "I'll sit in your lap if you give me another piece, Master."

Gregar smiled. Much better. He unhooked her hands and leaned down to unhook her feet. Picking up the tray, he repositioned himself so that his back was against the bed's headboard. "Come, then."

The girl sat up and crawled towards him. He guided her gently into his lap, careful not to let her upset the food. He positioned her so that her back pressed against his, her legs spread over his on either side so that her body remained just as open to him as before. He took a morsel of food from the plate and placed it in her waiting mouth. This time, Regina savored it carefully, aware now that she would have to work for more. Then a second one came and Regina took it from him hungrily, surprised when he did not pull it back. She hoped for another, and was delighted to find that it came.