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The late evening sun had reached the horizon, tinting the light filtering through the tent canvas with red, the last warning that it would soon be dark. If they had pushed on, they could have made it to Cairo tonight, and slept in a real house instead of spending that time setting up camp, but what impression would that make, dusty and road-weary? Better to arrive in the morning, fresh and dressed their best, when they could make an impression with their very entrance to the city. Hopefully, Tahena would have time to get some sleep, before she had to get up early to get herself ready, before helping her master to get an early start to his day.
The slave-girl did not move to light a lamp; she was almost done, and she did not think they would need light for what came next. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, with her master seated on the floor in front of her, she reached over to rinse the razor in the bowl of water on its little stand beside them, then scraped it over his oiled scalp again. Delicate fingers followed the trail of the blade, as she trusted touch more than sight to ensure she had not missed a single hair. Her touch was delicate, yet too firm to have any risk of tickling, and somehow obviously not at all impersonal. The young woman was never shy about showing in a hundred little ways how much she desired her master.
"You will look perfect tomorrow," she informed him confidently. He was not a fan of slaves who spoke without leave, but flattery was usually safe unless he was in a truly awful mood. Besides, she had proven she knew when to shut up, which meant he - usually - took the time to think about whether or not she was saying something he didn't like before getting upset, and as far as she could tell, he found her voice as pretty as the rest of her. If she'd had any sort of spine to break, his training of her would have done it, but he'd started young enough with this one that she had simply grown up flexible enough to survive his moods. She caught a drop of water on the back of her knuckle before it could drip uncomfortably down his neck. "The great General Iahotep, victorious yet again. Predictably." The slave chuckled quietly, comfortable in his presence as very few people actually were. "They will give you everything you deserve, of course. And probably any number of women will throw themselves at you. And not simply because you are powerful." Satisfied by her work, she set the blade aside and reached for a towel. She made a thoughtful noise as she wiped the last of the water and oil from his scalp. "I suppose I am something of a disappointment, now that I no longer scream at the touch of a whip."
She had come a very long way, since the first night he had made her into a woman. Had that really been nearly two years ago? Still, she was plagued by doubts some days. He liked her pain, and he liked that she did her best to hold still and stay silent through it all... but was there any excitement left when she succeeded? She could not stand the idea of him loosing interest in her. Her mother had been glad enough to be allowed to slip back into the faceless ranks of the household slaves once her beauty began to fade, but Tahena had no interest in such a fate. Hard labour was no more pleasant than being hit, and it lasted the whole day.
She trailed a finger down his spine to the base of his neck, then pressed a light kiss there. "If I ever bore you, my lord, I beg you challenge me further. I have only ever wished to serve you... to please you in all things..."
Well, that and to avoid the whip as much as possible. But like an experienced sailor steering a ship directly into a storm, Tahena knew when it was necessary to confidently face the worst, in order to come out once more into calmer waters with as little damage as possible. If he was training her, then he would only beat her for failure, which gave her at least some illusion of control over the situation. She was good enough at playing his games to keep the punishments to a minimum, and there was always the possibility of a reward for success. If he reached for the whip only because he was bored and in a mood, on the other hand… Worse, if he decided to put her aside…
No, she would be as perfect as possible, for as long as possible, and hold on to everything her suffering had earned her as tightly as possible, and she had no pride at all to keep her from flattering and indulging the man who abused her. Cooperating in her own subjugation had and would always be the smoothest path to take in her life.
"Ah, my glorious master... could there be any woman who's skin is not set aflame by the sight of you? You will have your pick of all the beauties." She hesitated, withdrawing the hand caressing his muscular shoulders, then uttered something between a sigh and a whimper, and slipped off the bed to fall grovelling to her knees. "I am sorry, master. I know it is very wrong of me to be jealous. I am only a slave, it was wrong of me to ask you for anything."
Yet, she was jealous. Why, she wasn't sure. If he took another woman to his bed, what did that mean, except less pain for her? She doubted he'd have noticed if she hadn't confessed to it, truthfully. But it was not an emotion that served her, and a solid beating might help her get over it. On the other hand, if he decided to be flattered by it, she would like to know that, so that she could stop wasting so much effort hiding it.
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Posted In To the Victor on Jan 20, 2020 13:28:13 GMT
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The late evening sun had reached the horizon, tinting the light filtering through the tent canvas with red, the last warning that it would soon be dark. If they had pushed on, they could have made it to Cairo tonight, and slept in a real house instead of spending that time setting up camp, but what impression would that make, dusty and road-weary? Better to arrive in the morning, fresh and dressed their best, when they could make an impression with their very entrance to the city. Hopefully, Tahena would have time to get some sleep, before she had to get up early to get herself ready, before helping her master to get an early start to his day.
The slave-girl did not move to light a lamp; she was almost done, and she did not think they would need light for what came next. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, with her master seated on the floor in front of her, she reached over to rinse the razor in the bowl of water on its little stand beside them, then scraped it over his oiled scalp again. Delicate fingers followed the trail of the blade, as she trusted touch more than sight to ensure she had not missed a single hair. Her touch was delicate, yet too firm to have any risk of tickling, and somehow obviously not at all impersonal. The young woman was never shy about showing in a hundred little ways how much she desired her master.
"You will look perfect tomorrow," she informed him confidently. He was not a fan of slaves who spoke without leave, but flattery was usually safe unless he was in a truly awful mood. Besides, she had proven she knew when to shut up, which meant he - usually - took the time to think about whether or not she was saying something he didn't like before getting upset, and as far as she could tell, he found her voice as pretty as the rest of her. If she'd had any sort of spine to break, his training of her would have done it, but he'd started young enough with this one that she had simply grown up flexible enough to survive his moods. She caught a drop of water on the back of her knuckle before it could drip uncomfortably down his neck. "The great General Iahotep, victorious yet again. Predictably." The slave chuckled quietly, comfortable in his presence as very few people actually were. "They will give you everything you deserve, of course. And probably any number of women will throw themselves at you. And not simply because you are powerful." Satisfied by her work, she set the blade aside and reached for a towel. She made a thoughtful noise as she wiped the last of the water and oil from his scalp. "I suppose I am something of a disappointment, now that I no longer scream at the touch of a whip."
She had come a very long way, since the first night he had made her into a woman. Had that really been nearly two years ago? Still, she was plagued by doubts some days. He liked her pain, and he liked that she did her best to hold still and stay silent through it all... but was there any excitement left when she succeeded? She could not stand the idea of him loosing interest in her. Her mother had been glad enough to be allowed to slip back into the faceless ranks of the household slaves once her beauty began to fade, but Tahena had no interest in such a fate. Hard labour was no more pleasant than being hit, and it lasted the whole day.
She trailed a finger down his spine to the base of his neck, then pressed a light kiss there. "If I ever bore you, my lord, I beg you challenge me further. I have only ever wished to serve you... to please you in all things..."
Well, that and to avoid the whip as much as possible. But like an experienced sailor steering a ship directly into a storm, Tahena knew when it was necessary to confidently face the worst, in order to come out once more into calmer waters with as little damage as possible. If he was training her, then he would only beat her for failure, which gave her at least some illusion of control over the situation. She was good enough at playing his games to keep the punishments to a minimum, and there was always the possibility of a reward for success. If he reached for the whip only because he was bored and in a mood, on the other hand… Worse, if he decided to put her aside…
No, she would be as perfect as possible, for as long as possible, and hold on to everything her suffering had earned her as tightly as possible, and she had no pride at all to keep her from flattering and indulging the man who abused her. Cooperating in her own subjugation had and would always be the smoothest path to take in her life.
"Ah, my glorious master... could there be any woman who's skin is not set aflame by the sight of you? You will have your pick of all the beauties." She hesitated, withdrawing the hand caressing his muscular shoulders, then uttered something between a sigh and a whimper, and slipped off the bed to fall grovelling to her knees. "I am sorry, master. I know it is very wrong of me to be jealous. I am only a slave, it was wrong of me to ask you for anything."
Yet, she was jealous. Why, she wasn't sure. If he took another woman to his bed, what did that mean, except less pain for her? She doubted he'd have noticed if she hadn't confessed to it, truthfully. But it was not an emotion that served her, and a solid beating might help her get over it. On the other hand, if he decided to be flattered by it, she would like to know that, so that she could stop wasting so much effort hiding it.
The late evening sun had reached the horizon, tinting the light filtering through the tent canvas with red, the last warning that it would soon be dark. If they had pushed on, they could have made it to Cairo tonight, and slept in a real house instead of spending that time setting up camp, but what impression would that make, dusty and road-weary? Better to arrive in the morning, fresh and dressed their best, when they could make an impression with their very entrance to the city. Hopefully, Tahena would have time to get some sleep, before she had to get up early to get herself ready, before helping her master to get an early start to his day.
The slave-girl did not move to light a lamp; she was almost done, and she did not think they would need light for what came next. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, with her master seated on the floor in front of her, she reached over to rinse the razor in the bowl of water on its little stand beside them, then scraped it over his oiled scalp again. Delicate fingers followed the trail of the blade, as she trusted touch more than sight to ensure she had not missed a single hair. Her touch was delicate, yet too firm to have any risk of tickling, and somehow obviously not at all impersonal. The young woman was never shy about showing in a hundred little ways how much she desired her master.
"You will look perfect tomorrow," she informed him confidently. He was not a fan of slaves who spoke without leave, but flattery was usually safe unless he was in a truly awful mood. Besides, she had proven she knew when to shut up, which meant he - usually - took the time to think about whether or not she was saying something he didn't like before getting upset, and as far as she could tell, he found her voice as pretty as the rest of her. If she'd had any sort of spine to break, his training of her would have done it, but he'd started young enough with this one that she had simply grown up flexible enough to survive his moods. She caught a drop of water on the back of her knuckle before it could drip uncomfortably down his neck. "The great General Iahotep, victorious yet again. Predictably." The slave chuckled quietly, comfortable in his presence as very few people actually were. "They will give you everything you deserve, of course. And probably any number of women will throw themselves at you. And not simply because you are powerful." Satisfied by her work, she set the blade aside and reached for a towel. She made a thoughtful noise as she wiped the last of the water and oil from his scalp. "I suppose I am something of a disappointment, now that I no longer scream at the touch of a whip."
She had come a very long way, since the first night he had made her into a woman. Had that really been nearly two years ago? Still, she was plagued by doubts some days. He liked her pain, and he liked that she did her best to hold still and stay silent through it all... but was there any excitement left when she succeeded? She could not stand the idea of him loosing interest in her. Her mother had been glad enough to be allowed to slip back into the faceless ranks of the household slaves once her beauty began to fade, but Tahena had no interest in such a fate. Hard labour was no more pleasant than being hit, and it lasted the whole day.
She trailed a finger down his spine to the base of his neck, then pressed a light kiss there. "If I ever bore you, my lord, I beg you challenge me further. I have only ever wished to serve you... to please you in all things..."
Well, that and to avoid the whip as much as possible. But like an experienced sailor steering a ship directly into a storm, Tahena knew when it was necessary to confidently face the worst, in order to come out once more into calmer waters with as little damage as possible. If he was training her, then he would only beat her for failure, which gave her at least some illusion of control over the situation. She was good enough at playing his games to keep the punishments to a minimum, and there was always the possibility of a reward for success. If he reached for the whip only because he was bored and in a mood, on the other hand… Worse, if he decided to put her aside…
No, she would be as perfect as possible, for as long as possible, and hold on to everything her suffering had earned her as tightly as possible, and she had no pride at all to keep her from flattering and indulging the man who abused her. Cooperating in her own subjugation had and would always be the smoothest path to take in her life.
"Ah, my glorious master... could there be any woman who's skin is not set aflame by the sight of you? You will have your pick of all the beauties." She hesitated, withdrawing the hand caressing his muscular shoulders, then uttered something between a sigh and a whimper, and slipped off the bed to fall grovelling to her knees. "I am sorry, master. I know it is very wrong of me to be jealous. I am only a slave, it was wrong of me to ask you for anything."
Yet, she was jealous. Why, she wasn't sure. If he took another woman to his bed, what did that mean, except less pain for her? She doubted he'd have noticed if she hadn't confessed to it, truthfully. But it was not an emotion that served her, and a solid beating might help her get over it. On the other hand, if he decided to be flattered by it, she would like to know that, so that she could stop wasting so much effort hiding it.
The culmination of his plans with the Queen Dowager were so close to coming to fruition. To say he was on edge would be a gross understatement. He felt like he might snap at any moment. But what was there to do? He could not celebrate until he was in the capitol before the council. To do so early would surely cause things to go awry. He was in a position he did not like -- one of hoping. Hoping that the Queen Dowager would keep her word, hoping that everything would remain in place, hoping that the gods would favor him.
He did not like hoping -- he preferred certainty and needed it now more than ever.
He liked to think he could be patient. He liked to think himself immune to most things that tempted lesser men. Yet, when the Queen Dowager herself had promised him the greatest prize in all of Egypt — the hand of her daughter, the queen -- he found himself quickly ensnared. How could he not? There were many men, including himself, who would kill for the chance to sit upon Egypt’s throne. He would have been a fool to turn his nose up at the opportunity. Foolish men did not live long. He knew Isetheperu well enough to understand that the offer she made did not come lightly, nor was she one to do so in jest. She was serious, as was he.
A man as ambitious as Iahotep would never be happy as a General, no matter what prestige it brought him. For many years, his eyes had never been on the throne, seeing it as an impossibility. He was a merchant’s son turned General -- what chance did he have of being given noble status? Especially when the Pharaoh he’d spent years trying to impress was dead? Him, King of Kings? Ha! He would have laughed in the face of any man who implied such a thing was possible. Isetheperu, however, was no man. She had turned that impossibility into a tangible reality and one he would not let go.
As such, he was more than prepared to do whatever necessary to ensure the queen’s hand would belong to him alone. Even if that meant claiming a dear friend’s victory for his own. Such behavior would never be tolerated from his subordinates but then, they had no chance of the throne, no chance of being anything more than what he deemed them to be. The prize had been laid before him, ready for the taking and he would have it. He would be before the council soon and with the Queen Dowager’s help, the young Queen Hatsepsut and the throne would be his.
His thoughts were interrupted by the voice of his lovely little slave. He might have struck her for speaking out of turn if her words had not been pleasing to his ears. The confidence in her tone amused him ever so slightly. How rare it was to hear her speak with such assuredness in anything. She knew as well as he that boldness was a fine line to be walked between confidence and a challenge to his authority. She had yet to cross the line and so, he allowed her to continue speaking as she dried his immaculately shaved scalp.
The poor girl was jealous -- that much was quickly gathered as she talked down about herself. Iahotep moved to sit on the bed as she knelt on the ground before him. He reached out to lightly pat her head. “My sweet, sweet Tahena,” he said with the faintest hint of amusement in his tone, “You needn’t fear of boring me, my girl, for there are more ways to make you scream than just the whip.” The mere fact that the whip no longer made her cry out was at first an irritant to him, for he saw it as defiance. It was only when he looked closer that he understood she was simply accustomed to the pain. That made him eager to push her tolerance and hear that beautiful voice become strained from shrieking.
Iahotep tilted his head slightly to the right as he regarded her with a certain interest. Her jealousy was amusing to him. So eager to please that the idea of him being with another woman turned her stomach? He chuckled softly. “Now, now, jealousy is unbecoming…” he said, as though on the verge of physically correcting her. He did no such thing, however, instead, issuing her a challenge. “But perhaps I might be convinced to allow it.”
“Tell me, my dear,” He patted his lap twice, beckoning her to sit there. “What is it you are asking of me?” Oh, he knew the answer, of course, but hearing it from her own lips would be so much more satisfying. He wanted to hear her say it. He wanted to tease out the resentment she felt towards other women. He wanted to see how far she would go to keep his eye and his interest. He was going to test her, see what lines she would and would not cross.
And it started now.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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The culmination of his plans with the Queen Dowager were so close to coming to fruition. To say he was on edge would be a gross understatement. He felt like he might snap at any moment. But what was there to do? He could not celebrate until he was in the capitol before the council. To do so early would surely cause things to go awry. He was in a position he did not like -- one of hoping. Hoping that the Queen Dowager would keep her word, hoping that everything would remain in place, hoping that the gods would favor him.
He did not like hoping -- he preferred certainty and needed it now more than ever.
He liked to think he could be patient. He liked to think himself immune to most things that tempted lesser men. Yet, when the Queen Dowager herself had promised him the greatest prize in all of Egypt — the hand of her daughter, the queen -- he found himself quickly ensnared. How could he not? There were many men, including himself, who would kill for the chance to sit upon Egypt’s throne. He would have been a fool to turn his nose up at the opportunity. Foolish men did not live long. He knew Isetheperu well enough to understand that the offer she made did not come lightly, nor was she one to do so in jest. She was serious, as was he.
A man as ambitious as Iahotep would never be happy as a General, no matter what prestige it brought him. For many years, his eyes had never been on the throne, seeing it as an impossibility. He was a merchant’s son turned General -- what chance did he have of being given noble status? Especially when the Pharaoh he’d spent years trying to impress was dead? Him, King of Kings? Ha! He would have laughed in the face of any man who implied such a thing was possible. Isetheperu, however, was no man. She had turned that impossibility into a tangible reality and one he would not let go.
As such, he was more than prepared to do whatever necessary to ensure the queen’s hand would belong to him alone. Even if that meant claiming a dear friend’s victory for his own. Such behavior would never be tolerated from his subordinates but then, they had no chance of the throne, no chance of being anything more than what he deemed them to be. The prize had been laid before him, ready for the taking and he would have it. He would be before the council soon and with the Queen Dowager’s help, the young Queen Hatsepsut and the throne would be his.
His thoughts were interrupted by the voice of his lovely little slave. He might have struck her for speaking out of turn if her words had not been pleasing to his ears. The confidence in her tone amused him ever so slightly. How rare it was to hear her speak with such assuredness in anything. She knew as well as he that boldness was a fine line to be walked between confidence and a challenge to his authority. She had yet to cross the line and so, he allowed her to continue speaking as she dried his immaculately shaved scalp.
The poor girl was jealous -- that much was quickly gathered as she talked down about herself. Iahotep moved to sit on the bed as she knelt on the ground before him. He reached out to lightly pat her head. “My sweet, sweet Tahena,” he said with the faintest hint of amusement in his tone, “You needn’t fear of boring me, my girl, for there are more ways to make you scream than just the whip.” The mere fact that the whip no longer made her cry out was at first an irritant to him, for he saw it as defiance. It was only when he looked closer that he understood she was simply accustomed to the pain. That made him eager to push her tolerance and hear that beautiful voice become strained from shrieking.
Iahotep tilted his head slightly to the right as he regarded her with a certain interest. Her jealousy was amusing to him. So eager to please that the idea of him being with another woman turned her stomach? He chuckled softly. “Now, now, jealousy is unbecoming…” he said, as though on the verge of physically correcting her. He did no such thing, however, instead, issuing her a challenge. “But perhaps I might be convinced to allow it.”
“Tell me, my dear,” He patted his lap twice, beckoning her to sit there. “What is it you are asking of me?” Oh, he knew the answer, of course, but hearing it from her own lips would be so much more satisfying. He wanted to hear her say it. He wanted to tease out the resentment she felt towards other women. He wanted to see how far she would go to keep his eye and his interest. He was going to test her, see what lines she would and would not cross.
And it started now.
The culmination of his plans with the Queen Dowager were so close to coming to fruition. To say he was on edge would be a gross understatement. He felt like he might snap at any moment. But what was there to do? He could not celebrate until he was in the capitol before the council. To do so early would surely cause things to go awry. He was in a position he did not like -- one of hoping. Hoping that the Queen Dowager would keep her word, hoping that everything would remain in place, hoping that the gods would favor him.
He did not like hoping -- he preferred certainty and needed it now more than ever.
He liked to think he could be patient. He liked to think himself immune to most things that tempted lesser men. Yet, when the Queen Dowager herself had promised him the greatest prize in all of Egypt — the hand of her daughter, the queen -- he found himself quickly ensnared. How could he not? There were many men, including himself, who would kill for the chance to sit upon Egypt’s throne. He would have been a fool to turn his nose up at the opportunity. Foolish men did not live long. He knew Isetheperu well enough to understand that the offer she made did not come lightly, nor was she one to do so in jest. She was serious, as was he.
A man as ambitious as Iahotep would never be happy as a General, no matter what prestige it brought him. For many years, his eyes had never been on the throne, seeing it as an impossibility. He was a merchant’s son turned General -- what chance did he have of being given noble status? Especially when the Pharaoh he’d spent years trying to impress was dead? Him, King of Kings? Ha! He would have laughed in the face of any man who implied such a thing was possible. Isetheperu, however, was no man. She had turned that impossibility into a tangible reality and one he would not let go.
As such, he was more than prepared to do whatever necessary to ensure the queen’s hand would belong to him alone. Even if that meant claiming a dear friend’s victory for his own. Such behavior would never be tolerated from his subordinates but then, they had no chance of the throne, no chance of being anything more than what he deemed them to be. The prize had been laid before him, ready for the taking and he would have it. He would be before the council soon and with the Queen Dowager’s help, the young Queen Hatsepsut and the throne would be his.
His thoughts were interrupted by the voice of his lovely little slave. He might have struck her for speaking out of turn if her words had not been pleasing to his ears. The confidence in her tone amused him ever so slightly. How rare it was to hear her speak with such assuredness in anything. She knew as well as he that boldness was a fine line to be walked between confidence and a challenge to his authority. She had yet to cross the line and so, he allowed her to continue speaking as she dried his immaculately shaved scalp.
The poor girl was jealous -- that much was quickly gathered as she talked down about herself. Iahotep moved to sit on the bed as she knelt on the ground before him. He reached out to lightly pat her head. “My sweet, sweet Tahena,” he said with the faintest hint of amusement in his tone, “You needn’t fear of boring me, my girl, for there are more ways to make you scream than just the whip.” The mere fact that the whip no longer made her cry out was at first an irritant to him, for he saw it as defiance. It was only when he looked closer that he understood she was simply accustomed to the pain. That made him eager to push her tolerance and hear that beautiful voice become strained from shrieking.
Iahotep tilted his head slightly to the right as he regarded her with a certain interest. Her jealousy was amusing to him. So eager to please that the idea of him being with another woman turned her stomach? He chuckled softly. “Now, now, jealousy is unbecoming…” he said, as though on the verge of physically correcting her. He did no such thing, however, instead, issuing her a challenge. “But perhaps I might be convinced to allow it.”
“Tell me, my dear,” He patted his lap twice, beckoning her to sit there. “What is it you are asking of me?” Oh, he knew the answer, of course, but hearing it from her own lips would be so much more satisfying. He wanted to hear her say it. He wanted to tease out the resentment she felt towards other women. He wanted to see how far she would go to keep his eye and his interest. He was going to test her, see what lines she would and would not cross.
And it started now.
She didn't flinch when he seemed about to strike her; the chuckle was no guarantee he wouldn't, of course, but an amused Iahotep was unlikely to hit her harder than would simply sting a bit. Not without playing it up more than that, and a simple smack given on principle was simply not worth fussing about, even from a man as strong as her master. When he invited her to sit on his lap, she quickly moved to obey, a quiet smile hovering at her mouth. So, he wasn't angry, excellent. Quite the opposite, in fact, so while she was certain he would take her up on her request to challenge her, she was starting this game in the lead.
Flattery, Tahena concluded. That was the key today. Her master was pleased by her desire for him. That she could definitely work with.
Boldly, she placed a delicate hand on his bare chest. "I want to please you, master. That is all I have ever asked for..." Well, not quite. Sometimes she asked for a rest, or for food, or such practical things, especially when she had been younger, with less endurance - but she could hardly continue serving him if she starved to death, could she? Heh, well, it was obvious flattery, so she probably wouldn't have to defend her choice of words. Either way, though. "I know..." hmm, no, she didn't need to reassure him that she knew better than to ask him to constrain his behaviour. She'd already declared that he deserved whichever women he wanted, and he wouldn't appreciate the thought that she considered it enough in doubt to need to be said again. "I know I have not always heeded properly," she admitted. "I promise to do better, master. Please, may I have a lesson?" Dark eyes filled with begging looked up to meet his, and evaluated his waiting expression in a split second. No, not quite enough... Damnit. Oh well, she'd first fallen to her knees willing to endure a beating. Better now, when he was in a good mood, then later, when he'd had the chance to get himself worked up about how she'd forgotten her place and failed to flatter him enough, or convinced himself that her asking for something slightly different than what he'd already decided he wanted to give her was equivalent to outright defiance.
She ducked her head again, letting her curls fall across her face. "I'm sorry, I am only a stupid girl. I should not ask, when you have an important morning tomorrow. But..." she looked up again, shyly. "Would you at least show me another of the ways that you said? I want to scream for you again. Please?" She let her fingertips trail down his chest, as if she'd forgotten her hand was there. "Please, master, I want to please you tonight..."
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She didn't flinch when he seemed about to strike her; the chuckle was no guarantee he wouldn't, of course, but an amused Iahotep was unlikely to hit her harder than would simply sting a bit. Not without playing it up more than that, and a simple smack given on principle was simply not worth fussing about, even from a man as strong as her master. When he invited her to sit on his lap, she quickly moved to obey, a quiet smile hovering at her mouth. So, he wasn't angry, excellent. Quite the opposite, in fact, so while she was certain he would take her up on her request to challenge her, she was starting this game in the lead.
Flattery, Tahena concluded. That was the key today. Her master was pleased by her desire for him. That she could definitely work with.
Boldly, she placed a delicate hand on his bare chest. "I want to please you, master. That is all I have ever asked for..." Well, not quite. Sometimes she asked for a rest, or for food, or such practical things, especially when she had been younger, with less endurance - but she could hardly continue serving him if she starved to death, could she? Heh, well, it was obvious flattery, so she probably wouldn't have to defend her choice of words. Either way, though. "I know..." hmm, no, she didn't need to reassure him that she knew better than to ask him to constrain his behaviour. She'd already declared that he deserved whichever women he wanted, and he wouldn't appreciate the thought that she considered it enough in doubt to need to be said again. "I know I have not always heeded properly," she admitted. "I promise to do better, master. Please, may I have a lesson?" Dark eyes filled with begging looked up to meet his, and evaluated his waiting expression in a split second. No, not quite enough... Damnit. Oh well, she'd first fallen to her knees willing to endure a beating. Better now, when he was in a good mood, then later, when he'd had the chance to get himself worked up about how she'd forgotten her place and failed to flatter him enough, or convinced himself that her asking for something slightly different than what he'd already decided he wanted to give her was equivalent to outright defiance.
She ducked her head again, letting her curls fall across her face. "I'm sorry, I am only a stupid girl. I should not ask, when you have an important morning tomorrow. But..." she looked up again, shyly. "Would you at least show me another of the ways that you said? I want to scream for you again. Please?" She let her fingertips trail down his chest, as if she'd forgotten her hand was there. "Please, master, I want to please you tonight..."
She didn't flinch when he seemed about to strike her; the chuckle was no guarantee he wouldn't, of course, but an amused Iahotep was unlikely to hit her harder than would simply sting a bit. Not without playing it up more than that, and a simple smack given on principle was simply not worth fussing about, even from a man as strong as her master. When he invited her to sit on his lap, she quickly moved to obey, a quiet smile hovering at her mouth. So, he wasn't angry, excellent. Quite the opposite, in fact, so while she was certain he would take her up on her request to challenge her, she was starting this game in the lead.
Flattery, Tahena concluded. That was the key today. Her master was pleased by her desire for him. That she could definitely work with.
Boldly, she placed a delicate hand on his bare chest. "I want to please you, master. That is all I have ever asked for..." Well, not quite. Sometimes she asked for a rest, or for food, or such practical things, especially when she had been younger, with less endurance - but she could hardly continue serving him if she starved to death, could she? Heh, well, it was obvious flattery, so she probably wouldn't have to defend her choice of words. Either way, though. "I know..." hmm, no, she didn't need to reassure him that she knew better than to ask him to constrain his behaviour. She'd already declared that he deserved whichever women he wanted, and he wouldn't appreciate the thought that she considered it enough in doubt to need to be said again. "I know I have not always heeded properly," she admitted. "I promise to do better, master. Please, may I have a lesson?" Dark eyes filled with begging looked up to meet his, and evaluated his waiting expression in a split second. No, not quite enough... Damnit. Oh well, she'd first fallen to her knees willing to endure a beating. Better now, when he was in a good mood, then later, when he'd had the chance to get himself worked up about how she'd forgotten her place and failed to flatter him enough, or convinced himself that her asking for something slightly different than what he'd already decided he wanted to give her was equivalent to outright defiance.
She ducked her head again, letting her curls fall across her face. "I'm sorry, I am only a stupid girl. I should not ask, when you have an important morning tomorrow. But..." she looked up again, shyly. "Would you at least show me another of the ways that you said? I want to scream for you again. Please?" She let her fingertips trail down his chest, as if she'd forgotten her hand was there. "Please, master, I want to please you tonight..."
He was pleased at the speed in which she complied with his command to come to his lap. From the outside, it might have been seen as an affectionate gesture, but they both knew otherwise. It was a reminder, above all, that she belonged to him in every way. The possessive way in which he wrapped an arm around her said as much. More importantly, however, it was another order, one that, had she stumbled or otherwise caused him to perceive an attempt to delay compliance, would have been met with a beating. But he could not recall the last time he’d beaten Tahena for direct disobedience. No, he had trained her far too well to fall back into the pattern of blunt disregard for his authority that marred her childhood. Her beatings, more often than not, occurred because he was frustrated with someone or something else. And, of course, there were times where he beat her simply because the urge struck him or she had failed in some way in his eyes.
However, as he held her in his lap, the idea of beating her did not come to his mind. Her hand on his scarred chest did not warrant a violent reaction from him. Rather, he pulled her closer to him as she spoke of wishing to please him. Yes, that was her duty, was it not? Her sole purpose? Indeed, her world revolved around him and her very life was in the palm of his hand. Should things go as he and Isetheperu planned, then more than just Tahena’s life would be his to command.
In due time, of course. For now, he would deal with the request of his slave.
Requests. A strange thing for his slave to make. He was not opposed to them, of course, but his varying moods often made them a chancy venture. Even in the midst of passion, a request for more was just as likely to anger him as it was to be actually granted. In this case, however, he was not angry, though his expression belied his anticipation and stress. He’d not missed how she sought out his gaze. It was something he could have punished her for if he wished it, but she would get a reprieve today. He needed relief more than he needed to instill deference within her.
He was about to speak, before he felt her fingertips trail against his chest. He paused then, allowing the silence to surround them for many moments, content for a time, with just feeling her fingertips against his skin. When he was no longer satisfied, he spoke after holding her gaze for a few searing moments. “Yes, you should scream for me,” he said lowly, “For I own both your pain and pleasure.”
“If you wish to please me, then answer me this,” he paused, “Would you rather scream for me in agony or in ecstasy?”
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Jun 13, 2020 22:43:03 GMT
Posted In To the Victor on Jun 13, 2020 22:43:03 GMT
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He was pleased at the speed in which she complied with his command to come to his lap. From the outside, it might have been seen as an affectionate gesture, but they both knew otherwise. It was a reminder, above all, that she belonged to him in every way. The possessive way in which he wrapped an arm around her said as much. More importantly, however, it was another order, one that, had she stumbled or otherwise caused him to perceive an attempt to delay compliance, would have been met with a beating. But he could not recall the last time he’d beaten Tahena for direct disobedience. No, he had trained her far too well to fall back into the pattern of blunt disregard for his authority that marred her childhood. Her beatings, more often than not, occurred because he was frustrated with someone or something else. And, of course, there were times where he beat her simply because the urge struck him or she had failed in some way in his eyes.
However, as he held her in his lap, the idea of beating her did not come to his mind. Her hand on his scarred chest did not warrant a violent reaction from him. Rather, he pulled her closer to him as she spoke of wishing to please him. Yes, that was her duty, was it not? Her sole purpose? Indeed, her world revolved around him and her very life was in the palm of his hand. Should things go as he and Isetheperu planned, then more than just Tahena’s life would be his to command.
In due time, of course. For now, he would deal with the request of his slave.
Requests. A strange thing for his slave to make. He was not opposed to them, of course, but his varying moods often made them a chancy venture. Even in the midst of passion, a request for more was just as likely to anger him as it was to be actually granted. In this case, however, he was not angry, though his expression belied his anticipation and stress. He’d not missed how she sought out his gaze. It was something he could have punished her for if he wished it, but she would get a reprieve today. He needed relief more than he needed to instill deference within her.
He was about to speak, before he felt her fingertips trail against his chest. He paused then, allowing the silence to surround them for many moments, content for a time, with just feeling her fingertips against his skin. When he was no longer satisfied, he spoke after holding her gaze for a few searing moments. “Yes, you should scream for me,” he said lowly, “For I own both your pain and pleasure.”
“If you wish to please me, then answer me this,” he paused, “Would you rather scream for me in agony or in ecstasy?”
He was pleased at the speed in which she complied with his command to come to his lap. From the outside, it might have been seen as an affectionate gesture, but they both knew otherwise. It was a reminder, above all, that she belonged to him in every way. The possessive way in which he wrapped an arm around her said as much. More importantly, however, it was another order, one that, had she stumbled or otherwise caused him to perceive an attempt to delay compliance, would have been met with a beating. But he could not recall the last time he’d beaten Tahena for direct disobedience. No, he had trained her far too well to fall back into the pattern of blunt disregard for his authority that marred her childhood. Her beatings, more often than not, occurred because he was frustrated with someone or something else. And, of course, there were times where he beat her simply because the urge struck him or she had failed in some way in his eyes.
However, as he held her in his lap, the idea of beating her did not come to his mind. Her hand on his scarred chest did not warrant a violent reaction from him. Rather, he pulled her closer to him as she spoke of wishing to please him. Yes, that was her duty, was it not? Her sole purpose? Indeed, her world revolved around him and her very life was in the palm of his hand. Should things go as he and Isetheperu planned, then more than just Tahena’s life would be his to command.
In due time, of course. For now, he would deal with the request of his slave.
Requests. A strange thing for his slave to make. He was not opposed to them, of course, but his varying moods often made them a chancy venture. Even in the midst of passion, a request for more was just as likely to anger him as it was to be actually granted. In this case, however, he was not angry, though his expression belied his anticipation and stress. He’d not missed how she sought out his gaze. It was something he could have punished her for if he wished it, but she would get a reprieve today. He needed relief more than he needed to instill deference within her.
He was about to speak, before he felt her fingertips trail against his chest. He paused then, allowing the silence to surround them for many moments, content for a time, with just feeling her fingertips against his skin. When he was no longer satisfied, he spoke after holding her gaze for a few searing moments. “Yes, you should scream for me,” he said lowly, “For I own both your pain and pleasure.”
“If you wish to please me, then answer me this,” he paused, “Would you rather scream for me in agony or in ecstasy?”
The space between her question and his answer was enough to worry her - no, to excite her. She was not afraid of her master, nor of pain, so what was there to be worried about? His quiet voice in her ear made her shiver, her heart pounding in her throat, and her lips parted in a silent gasp.
Was that a trick question? Maybe, but if it was, she would get beaten either way, and if it was not, then she should answer honestly. "Pleasure, master -" Wait, should she have said 'both'? If he was looking for her to prove her willingness to submit, if he was going to beat her either way, that might have been the best chance of at least some pleasure to offset the pain. Oh, but - yes, maybe she could still avoid sounding greedy. "if I can earn it?" she added hopefully, with no sign of that momentary concern she had messed up. Backtracking was impossible, and dwelling on should-haves unwise; unless she was certain she had angered him, she had learned to no more draw attention to a minor imperfection than a professional musician would pause a performance to apologize for a single missed note. He seemed tolerant of her boldness today, which meant he was not in a mood to appreciate the opposite, so she leaned her head on his shoulder as her light fingers continued to trace the lines of his scars across his chest. "I would like the chance to earn that," she confirmed more confidently, her quiet voice carrying an appreciative tone. As she had said, what woman would not appreciate the chance to lie with Iahotep H'Naddar? (Probably most of them, but that was not a thought Tahena was able to entertain seriously any longer.) "How may I please my master tonight?"
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The space between her question and his answer was enough to worry her - no, to excite her. She was not afraid of her master, nor of pain, so what was there to be worried about? His quiet voice in her ear made her shiver, her heart pounding in her throat, and her lips parted in a silent gasp.
Was that a trick question? Maybe, but if it was, she would get beaten either way, and if it was not, then she should answer honestly. "Pleasure, master -" Wait, should she have said 'both'? If he was looking for her to prove her willingness to submit, if he was going to beat her either way, that might have been the best chance of at least some pleasure to offset the pain. Oh, but - yes, maybe she could still avoid sounding greedy. "if I can earn it?" she added hopefully, with no sign of that momentary concern she had messed up. Backtracking was impossible, and dwelling on should-haves unwise; unless she was certain she had angered him, she had learned to no more draw attention to a minor imperfection than a professional musician would pause a performance to apologize for a single missed note. He seemed tolerant of her boldness today, which meant he was not in a mood to appreciate the opposite, so she leaned her head on his shoulder as her light fingers continued to trace the lines of his scars across his chest. "I would like the chance to earn that," she confirmed more confidently, her quiet voice carrying an appreciative tone. As she had said, what woman would not appreciate the chance to lie with Iahotep H'Naddar? (Probably most of them, but that was not a thought Tahena was able to entertain seriously any longer.) "How may I please my master tonight?"
The space between her question and his answer was enough to worry her - no, to excite her. She was not afraid of her master, nor of pain, so what was there to be worried about? His quiet voice in her ear made her shiver, her heart pounding in her throat, and her lips parted in a silent gasp.
Was that a trick question? Maybe, but if it was, she would get beaten either way, and if it was not, then she should answer honestly. "Pleasure, master -" Wait, should she have said 'both'? If he was looking for her to prove her willingness to submit, if he was going to beat her either way, that might have been the best chance of at least some pleasure to offset the pain. Oh, but - yes, maybe she could still avoid sounding greedy. "if I can earn it?" she added hopefully, with no sign of that momentary concern she had messed up. Backtracking was impossible, and dwelling on should-haves unwise; unless she was certain she had angered him, she had learned to no more draw attention to a minor imperfection than a professional musician would pause a performance to apologize for a single missed note. He seemed tolerant of her boldness today, which meant he was not in a mood to appreciate the opposite, so she leaned her head on his shoulder as her light fingers continued to trace the lines of his scars across his chest. "I would like the chance to earn that," she confirmed more confidently, her quiet voice carrying an appreciative tone. As she had said, what woman would not appreciate the chance to lie with Iahotep H'Naddar? (Probably most of them, but that was not a thought Tahena was able to entertain seriously any longer.) "How may I please my master tonight?"
Her answer did not surprise him. It was expected. He had never, in all his years of living, met a woman who actually enjoyed the type of pain he inflicted. Of course, Tahena’s enjoyment came secondary to his always, if he considered it at all. She had, however, been doing well and so, he had given her the option.
It would have been incredibly easy to continue to toy with her, to take offense that she had not requested what pleased him, to beat her simply because he could. That was the kind of power he enjoyed and lorded over her whenever it pleased him to do so. Tahena, however, was a clever and cautious girl. She was quick to correct her mistake, and was rewarded by him taking no notice to begin with.
Iahotep’s gifts did not come free, and he most certainly considered her pleasure to be a gift. Nothing was her own, except perhaps her thoughts, if only because he had not found a way to control them as well. If he truly had his way, Tahena would do nothing without his complete knowledge. Yes, she would never directly disobey him, but Iahotep was not under the impression that this obedience existed for any other reason that self preservation.
She knew the harsh consequence of perceived disobedience, so how much worse would it be were her actions intentional? Iahotep was not fond of being unaware of matters that concerned him. But what was he to do? Read her mind? Know her heart? That was a power reserved for the gods, however, and he was not a god. Yet.
She continued to keep him placated with her touch and careful words, and for that he made a sound of acknowledgement. “I will give you that chance.” Iahotep said with a slight nod.
He snorted softly when she asked the question he loved most of hear. Of course, Iahotep knew what he wanted, but making this game easy for Tahena was not that. She was clever and so, she would prove to him once more why he so loved to keep her around.
"I believe you already know the answer to that question, my dear."
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Her answer did not surprise him. It was expected. He had never, in all his years of living, met a woman who actually enjoyed the type of pain he inflicted. Of course, Tahena’s enjoyment came secondary to his always, if he considered it at all. She had, however, been doing well and so, he had given her the option.
It would have been incredibly easy to continue to toy with her, to take offense that she had not requested what pleased him, to beat her simply because he could. That was the kind of power he enjoyed and lorded over her whenever it pleased him to do so. Tahena, however, was a clever and cautious girl. She was quick to correct her mistake, and was rewarded by him taking no notice to begin with.
Iahotep’s gifts did not come free, and he most certainly considered her pleasure to be a gift. Nothing was her own, except perhaps her thoughts, if only because he had not found a way to control them as well. If he truly had his way, Tahena would do nothing without his complete knowledge. Yes, she would never directly disobey him, but Iahotep was not under the impression that this obedience existed for any other reason that self preservation.
She knew the harsh consequence of perceived disobedience, so how much worse would it be were her actions intentional? Iahotep was not fond of being unaware of matters that concerned him. But what was he to do? Read her mind? Know her heart? That was a power reserved for the gods, however, and he was not a god. Yet.
She continued to keep him placated with her touch and careful words, and for that he made a sound of acknowledgement. “I will give you that chance.” Iahotep said with a slight nod.
He snorted softly when she asked the question he loved most of hear. Of course, Iahotep knew what he wanted, but making this game easy for Tahena was not that. She was clever and so, she would prove to him once more why he so loved to keep her around.
"I believe you already know the answer to that question, my dear."
Her answer did not surprise him. It was expected. He had never, in all his years of living, met a woman who actually enjoyed the type of pain he inflicted. Of course, Tahena’s enjoyment came secondary to his always, if he considered it at all. She had, however, been doing well and so, he had given her the option.
It would have been incredibly easy to continue to toy with her, to take offense that she had not requested what pleased him, to beat her simply because he could. That was the kind of power he enjoyed and lorded over her whenever it pleased him to do so. Tahena, however, was a clever and cautious girl. She was quick to correct her mistake, and was rewarded by him taking no notice to begin with.
Iahotep’s gifts did not come free, and he most certainly considered her pleasure to be a gift. Nothing was her own, except perhaps her thoughts, if only because he had not found a way to control them as well. If he truly had his way, Tahena would do nothing without his complete knowledge. Yes, she would never directly disobey him, but Iahotep was not under the impression that this obedience existed for any other reason that self preservation.
She knew the harsh consequence of perceived disobedience, so how much worse would it be were her actions intentional? Iahotep was not fond of being unaware of matters that concerned him. But what was he to do? Read her mind? Know her heart? That was a power reserved for the gods, however, and he was not a god. Yet.
She continued to keep him placated with her touch and careful words, and for that he made a sound of acknowledgement. “I will give you that chance.” Iahotep said with a slight nod.
He snorted softly when she asked the question he loved most of hear. Of course, Iahotep knew what he wanted, but making this game easy for Tahena was not that. She was clever and so, she would prove to him once more why he so loved to keep her around.
"I believe you already know the answer to that question, my dear."
"I know my obedience pleases my master," the slave retorted, lightly teasing and still with that appreciative smile on her lips and in her voice, but utterly serious at the same time. Ugh. A nigh-impossible command intended to set her up for failure was much easier to navigate, but she had asked him to challenge her, and she had gotten, she supposed, frustratingly good at succeeding at those. He seemed to like her stressed, as well as in pain and obedient. That, however, she was not in the right mood to give him tonight.
Having already resigned herself to a solid beating, the continued threat of it wasn't likely to phase her, even if the absence of it had initially left her slightly off-balance. Had her jealousy actually pleased him? That was something valuable to remember. Either way, Iahotep was clearly in a generous mood - as generous as he got, anyway - and at times like this she really did feel the affection she often projected. His training of her, starting at such a young age, had gotten her head and heart somewhat mixed up. Any hint of kindness would always be her undoing.
As she contemplated her current situation, her fingers trailed down to slip inside the waistband of his kilt, and ran along it to the fastening. "But if you wish to leave me to my own devices, I suppose I will just have to do my best..." She turned her head and brushed her lips across his collarbone. His arm was still wrapped around her, and while she didn't have room to do her best work the way she was sitting, she didn't want to just squirm out of his grip, either. "I belong on my knees, master," she reminded him, her tone pleading now, though her affectionate mood kept her from sounding as she did when she was truly begging him. "Unless you prefer something else of me?" she added, the curious tone again laced with a smile.
Whatever he asked, she would be quick to do, but if he continued to leave her directionless, she would simply fall back on those tricks she was best at, to stoke the flame of his desire until he could not help but take his own pleasure from her body. It pleased her for him to do so, or perhaps reassured her, but either way, she was always eager for it.
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"I know my obedience pleases my master," the slave retorted, lightly teasing and still with that appreciative smile on her lips and in her voice, but utterly serious at the same time. Ugh. A nigh-impossible command intended to set her up for failure was much easier to navigate, but she had asked him to challenge her, and she had gotten, she supposed, frustratingly good at succeeding at those. He seemed to like her stressed, as well as in pain and obedient. That, however, she was not in the right mood to give him tonight.
Having already resigned herself to a solid beating, the continued threat of it wasn't likely to phase her, even if the absence of it had initially left her slightly off-balance. Had her jealousy actually pleased him? That was something valuable to remember. Either way, Iahotep was clearly in a generous mood - as generous as he got, anyway - and at times like this she really did feel the affection she often projected. His training of her, starting at such a young age, had gotten her head and heart somewhat mixed up. Any hint of kindness would always be her undoing.
As she contemplated her current situation, her fingers trailed down to slip inside the waistband of his kilt, and ran along it to the fastening. "But if you wish to leave me to my own devices, I suppose I will just have to do my best..." She turned her head and brushed her lips across his collarbone. His arm was still wrapped around her, and while she didn't have room to do her best work the way she was sitting, she didn't want to just squirm out of his grip, either. "I belong on my knees, master," she reminded him, her tone pleading now, though her affectionate mood kept her from sounding as she did when she was truly begging him. "Unless you prefer something else of me?" she added, the curious tone again laced with a smile.
Whatever he asked, she would be quick to do, but if he continued to leave her directionless, she would simply fall back on those tricks she was best at, to stoke the flame of his desire until he could not help but take his own pleasure from her body. It pleased her for him to do so, or perhaps reassured her, but either way, she was always eager for it.
"I know my obedience pleases my master," the slave retorted, lightly teasing and still with that appreciative smile on her lips and in her voice, but utterly serious at the same time. Ugh. A nigh-impossible command intended to set her up for failure was much easier to navigate, but she had asked him to challenge her, and she had gotten, she supposed, frustratingly good at succeeding at those. He seemed to like her stressed, as well as in pain and obedient. That, however, she was not in the right mood to give him tonight.
Having already resigned herself to a solid beating, the continued threat of it wasn't likely to phase her, even if the absence of it had initially left her slightly off-balance. Had her jealousy actually pleased him? That was something valuable to remember. Either way, Iahotep was clearly in a generous mood - as generous as he got, anyway - and at times like this she really did feel the affection she often projected. His training of her, starting at such a young age, had gotten her head and heart somewhat mixed up. Any hint of kindness would always be her undoing.
As she contemplated her current situation, her fingers trailed down to slip inside the waistband of his kilt, and ran along it to the fastening. "But if you wish to leave me to my own devices, I suppose I will just have to do my best..." She turned her head and brushed her lips across his collarbone. His arm was still wrapped around her, and while she didn't have room to do her best work the way she was sitting, she didn't want to just squirm out of his grip, either. "I belong on my knees, master," she reminded him, her tone pleading now, though her affectionate mood kept her from sounding as she did when she was truly begging him. "Unless you prefer something else of me?" she added, the curious tone again laced with a smile.
Whatever he asked, she would be quick to do, but if he continued to leave her directionless, she would simply fall back on those tricks she was best at, to stoke the flame of his desire until he could not help but take his own pleasure from her body. It pleased her for him to do so, or perhaps reassured her, but either way, she was always eager for it.