Curled up comfortably by the Great Halls massive fireplace, Sioda slept lightly. A large cushion had been placed precisely three feet clear of the flaming coals within the grate, ensuring her flesh remained clear and unblemished. This girl had cost John a lot of money, slave girls these days were common enough he supposed, but one who could dance, now that had made her a prize. Of course, he had enjoyed watching her soften and relax in somewhat of a spoiled position in his house, but he intended to change that perception quickly tonight. A girl who did not warm his bed did not remain in the house, he enjoyed breaking them in, in fact he felt his pulse quicken just considering the evening ahead.
His clear, cool blue gaze swept over her body a moment. A brunette, the waves of cocoa curls drifted down her back to caress her ass cheeks when she walked, he enjoyed watching her walk. In slumber her muscles relaxed he noticed, when awake she knelt always like a coiled little spring. The glow of the firelight enhanced the pale perfection of her skin, that lightness set off her dark mane and complimented the softness of the lilac silk shift dress. The raw silk fabric lay against the hollows and rises of her body, modest breasts that rose just enough he guessed to fill his hands very well, he had already seen on chill nights that her sweet nipples were sensitive, standing out proudly through her slip and likely able to cut glass. The slit of the shift baring her well toned leg and thigh, the sweet indentation of her waist begged for his arms to crush her to him and he decided he could wait no more.
Clapping his hands loudly, twice, he watched as she bolted up on her cushion. He long sooty lashes fluttering open as she started awake and immediately uncurled into a graceful kneel. John watched as she arched her back into a taut hunters bow, her porcelain thighs kissed together once before parting wickedly wide to accept the backs of her hands as they settled upon them. Lastly, her chin lifted high and proud, the glint of gold flecking through her greeny brown eyes flashing in his direction for the briefest of seconds before drifting down to his boots as she inhaled deeply, her breasts lifting and straining suddenly with the tautness of the silk encasing her. "Master commands?" her barbarian birth drifting to his ears in the lilt of her voice, he lifted one eyebrow at her query and waited, replying with not a word. His gaze taking in the view of her parted thighs, the glimpse of her pussy had not escaped him and he knew had he not already decided the course of tonight these little provocations of hers might well have made the choice inevitable anyway. He would show her that he owned more than her dancers legs.
Rising to his full six feet and four inches he rose from his chair and moved to the centre of the Great Hall, the marble flooring he knew would not be kind to her, another lesson to add to the curiculum. "To my belt, slut." the command was exactly that, she knew what he expected and he waited for her to obey.
Immediately Sioda slipped up to her feet with a flirtacious giggle, still sure of her position in his house. Flicking her mass of warm coffee coloured hair so it bounces around her frame as she runs swiftly to his side, on silent bare feet. Curling to the ground on her knees at Johns boots, her head kept low. The shining silver encasing her throat gleaming in the candle lights proclaiming her owned, before the night is over that fact will finally be truth. "You know the rules, remain low or face the consequences. Adapt to me, or face the consequences." Without waiting for a response he nods at the men in the corner, the guitar and the small drum begin the steady music and the Master of the house looks down at his slave.
With practiced ease she stretches back in a cruel and controlled bow. Sioda breathes out a low throaty growl as the chords strum low and the drum beats out a heartbeat in accompaniment. One long dancers leg curls free from beneath her and arches up towards the ceiling, snapping still as it approaches his waist. Her toes point wickedly to Johns groin as it hovers there and the music pauses dramatically, the musicians obviously watching the girl dance as they play. The slaves gold flecked eyes twinkle in the candlelight, one slender hand reaches up to cup behind her Masters calf....
He shifts one hand sharply down to caress the coils of the whip at his belt, his blue eyes turning icey as they bore into the girl at his boots, daring her to disobey his command. Her fingers freeze half way to their goal, her eyes momentarily unsure, his reaction unexpected.
Shaking her head, letting her hair dance against her skin to bring the rhythmn again into play, Sioda lets her fingers tease their way slowly up the muscles of his leg, smoothly gliding up to rest around the masculine thigh as she straightens up once more. As if in sync with her motives the music turns playful, a little smile that lights in her eyes and she slowly lowers her leg. Letting her weight fall to that leg as she attempts to rise, her fingers digging slightly into the muscles of Johns leg, her eyes daring him to prevent her rebellion, sheer lilac silks fluttering with each tiny movement of her body.
The sensations John is experiencing in no way show in his face, or for that matter in his body language. For all external appearances, he is uninterested and aloof to the girl crawling her way up his body. Every ugly thing he has ever witnessed runs back through his mind to enable his supreme self control. Though he admits to a silent prayer that she doesn't touch his cock, he doubts even he has thoughts that would protect him then.
Sioda pulls herself up his body with a little murmur of defiance and a tiny smile of triumph, though her body still sways against him to the music drifting around the hall. Her head lifted high and proud as it nears the line of Johns belt, her toned thighs stretching as she lifts high from her knees and rests her forehead to his crotch, another little giggle catching in her throat as she slips both hands round and trails them across to grip at his behind. Her next move is the fatal error, the one she should have simply not considered, Sioda had felt his cock jump to life as her forehead had pressed against it. Her Master was a big man in all respects it seems.
Unfortunately, she was unaware that as her fingers stretched up to the whip still hung at his belt she was beginning her undoing. Slender little fingers slide around the phallic handle to the wicked leather instrument, her eyes boldy lifting up to gaze deeply into his. Even as she teased with her hazel orbs her warm rose pink lips parted around the handle of the whip.
