Waking the sleeping Master.
Chapter 7 - Part 4 (Voyage of the Dawn Breaker)
“Shh,” the older Ciad-Ghin pointed a finger at Flur. “Caileagan tràillean1 are to be seen, not heard.” Flur's eyes widened in desire, and she looked down. Ilyriatri stopped before Flur, “You will do as you are told. Is this understood?”
Flur nodded, “Yes.” When Ilyriatri cleared her throat, Flur quickly amended, “Mistress.”
“Good girl,” Those easily said words of praise sent thrills down Flur's spine. “Lift your head, little one.” Flur instantly obeyed, lifting her chin and keeping her eyes down. She held perfectly still as Ilyriatri's hands slipped around her neck. “Lift your hair.” She moved even quicker, gasping as Ilyriatri placed the leather choker around her throat and moaning softly as the delicate lock snapped shut.
“Good girl,” Ilyriatri crooned as she stepped back. “On your feet, little one.” Flur rose gracefully to her feet at the command, turning when her aunt commanded, “Turn around and clasp your hands behind your back.” She shivered as her hands were bound with a silk ribbon. “Turn and face me, little one.” The leather string was fed through the ring on the choker and fell loosely in front of her.
When she felt a light tug on the makeshift leash, she stepped forward, freezing when the leash slackened. She risked a glance and found Ilyriatri watching her. “You aren’t pretending to be submissive, are you?” Flur shook her head. “Which one?” Ilyriatri pointed to the choker.
“The second,” Flur admitted, “that's when I realized that I could be happy as a submissive and I didn't have to be strong or in charge.”
Hearing the nostalgic tone, Ilyriatri nodded. “How did he take it?”
“Not well,” Flur stated, surprised to still feel the disappointment. “He had this fantasy about a slave princess, and my total submission frightened him.” She looked down, no longer fighting the tears in her eyes. “I want a real man who knows how to treat me.”
Ilyriatri pulled Flur into a tight hug. “Somehow, I doubt that Rhyslin will let you be anything other than truthful to him. Besides, if he's not afraid of a' Mathair, I don't think he'll be afraid of your submissive behavior.” She released Flur and stepped back. “Are you ready?” When Flur nodded, Ilyriatri grabbed the makeshift leash and led her into the great cabin, stopping only when they faced Rhyslin.
They found him asleep and watched him for a few minutes. Both noticed the way his left fist clenched and relaxed every few seconds.
He's so powerful, even when he's asleep. Flur stared, transfixed by the sight of him. He wasn't what she'd call handsome; he was more rugged, and for some reason, he reminded her of an old wolfhound. Suddenly unsure what to do, she looked at Ilyriatri, who let go of the leash.
“Go lay the leash on his lap,” Ilyriatri mouthed silently.
Flur knelt at his feet and set the coiled leash on his lap. When he didn't wake up, Flur looked back at Ilyriatri, who pantomimed that she should lay her head on his lap. Flur closed her eyes and silently prayed. Please, Mathair, Lady Chantico, don't let him reject me. I couldn't take the pain. Then, shifting forward on her knees, she crawled the short distance to him and rested her head on his lap. Moments later, she turned her head to the left. Who am I to make requests of the gods? She wondered. He will do as he wishes, even if it breaks my heart.
Flur was rewarded for her patience when Rhyslin relaxed, and his left hand moved to rest on the back of her head. “What brings the two of you here, dressed as you are?”
Rhyslin's touch reduced Flur to a puddle of mush; even if she wanted to, she couldn't answer him. Thank a' Mathair for Ilyriatri coming with me. She can answer him. When the fingers of his right hand curled around her bound wrists, she sighed in contentment.
She could sense his amusement as he discovered the ribbon that bound her wrists and followed it down her back, pausing momentarily at the hem of the chemise before slipping past the thin fabric to playfully trace the contours of her derrière. Please, oh please, answer him because I can't.
“Well?” Rhyslin could feel Flur's delirious joy as she completely surrendered to him, and their bond blossomed to life. “I'm waiting.” He directed his statement to Ilyriatri. When she didn't answer, Rhyslin snapped his fingers and pointed to a spot two hand spans from his left foot. “I'm losing patience with you, Ria.”
The abrupt shortening of her name startled Ilyriatri into action, and she hurried to where he pointed. “Yes, Maighstir,” she replied as she sank to her knees and placed her palms on her thighs. “Lady Chantico thinks that your control over your prana is slipping.” She looked down at the floor. “She also thinks that a' Mathair inadvertently caused it.”
Rhyslin absently continued to caress Flur's derrière, ignoring the shivers that racked her body, while he considered what to disclose to the two Ciad-Ghin women who knelt at his side. “The hearth mistress is correct,” he admitted as his left hand found the haphazardly coiled leash and climbed upwards to the ring on the choker. He gave a barely discernible tug on the ring. [Come up into my lap, mo dhroigheann.] He commanded through the bond. Flur panted as she rose to her feet and straddled his lap. As she started to settle down on him, the hem of the chemise gathered around her hips. [Hold that position, my beauty.] She froze, her womanhood hovering inches from touching him.
While he untied the leash, he looked over at Ilyriatri, who appeared as if she had a question to ask. “It's not my control over Prana that is slipping; rather, the ambient Draoidheachd is growing more powerful than I can contain, and Mathair disrupting my control didn't help.”
Ria couldn't help but ask, “Is that why you were unconscious for three days?” When he nodded, she narrowed her eyes. “Is there a way to,” she cast about for the right word, “strengthen your control over the Draoidheachd?”
“There is, but I have been loath to enact it,” he stated as he tossed the leash in her direction.
Ilyriatri caught the leash and quirked a brow. “May I ask why you haven't acted upon it?”
“Because to do so would require me to bind with multiple women, and I didn't want to force anyone to act against their will,” he explained as he looked at Flur. The golden-haired bean-cheangail whimpered as he slowly lifted the chemise, teasing her with playful touches. She arched her back as he lifted the chemise over her head and let it slide down her arms until it gathered in folds around her bound hands.
[That's right, my beautiful Thorn,] he praised her as he gently directed her back into a perfect bow that displayed every inch of her inflamed body.
“Now, thanks to her, I can no longer deny certain others what they want,” he said wistfully. When he turned his attention back to Ria, he said, “Tell me what you desire, Ilyriatri.”
Slave Girls
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