The Palace

"There must be some provision!" I declared. "You do know who I am."

"Yes, Governor, but you must understand, the Palace expends a great deal of time and money on a new acquisition, and it takes months to recoup that cost before the girl becomes profitable. She has been here but three days!" The clerk wrung his hands, but his face remained smooth, the arrogance of his position plain in his expression.

"I will pay whatever is required. I will have her!"

The clerk rustled the papers before him without looking at them. His hands shook. "We have two girls retiring. We cannot lose a third in the same week. Perhaps you would like to meet one of them? They are trained and experienced. The girl you have shown such, er, interest in is hardly even broken yet."

"She is not broken at all." I had been haunted all day by those blue eyes. There had been no fear in her gaze, no dread, just simple curiosity.

"I don't think that's accurate, Governor, with all due respect. Her handler reports—"

"She is not broken," I repeated. "What is her name?"

"Her name? I don't know. Girls of the Palace have no names." The clerk's eyes narrowed, and he rubbed his nose with the end of his pen.

"Then I shall ask her myself. Get me a number, clerk, before I leave tonight."

"I will not."

"Then find me someone who will." I spun on my heel and marched away to preclude further argument. I would have to liquidate some assets, but I was certain I could manage whatever amount they demanded. I could not stay another night here, but I could not bear to leave without her. I would not abandon her here to be abused and defiled by others, mishandled by her handler and insulted by the clumsy hands and cocks of less scrupulous clients. If I left and came back for her after an acceptable absence, she would indeed be broken. I could not allow that.

My feet carried me to the room where she awaited me. I had no need of a guide, and I was impatient to begin.

She lay on the bed, blindfolded but unfettered. I shut and locked the door, and her head turned toward me at the sound of the latch.

"Hello, sweet girl."

Her fingers twitched at her sides when she heard my voice. Perhaps she had not truly believed I would return for her tonight.

"Did you sleep well?" I asked.

"Yes, Master."

I doubted that very much. It was likely her handler had not allowed her to sleep more than a few hours. I sat on the edge of the bed and rested my palm on her stomach. "Tonight is my last night here, sweet girl, which I do regret. However ..." I took a breath. The question was not as quick to leave my tongue as I had anticipated. "If it were possible, would you leave with me?"

"I don't understand, Master." Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths.

"If I were to arrange to take you with me when I leave, would that please you?"

"Leave here, Master?"

"Yes, sweet girl." I caressed her cheek, and she leaned her head into my hand.

"I've only just arrived, Master."

She was afraid to answer. Neither a yes nor a no would be safe. "Answer me, girl. Would you prefer to stay in this place or come with me to live at my manor?"

"As what, Master?" she burst out. "Would I still be required to do your bidding? Would I be kept locked in a bedroom, naked, subject to your whims, beaten when I do wrong? Forever? The Palace is temporary, Master."

The venom in her tone startled me. I had truly thought she held some affection for me. I lifted my hand, intending to slap her for impudence, but the meaning of her words hit me before my hand moved. I had not considered what her place would be in my household. I only wished to have her near me. "Your place would be at my side," I said.

"You cannot take a slave girl as a wife, Master."

I should not have allowed her to argue with me. But I knew she was right. "Not as a wife, no. I would have you in my bed and as company when I travel. I enjoy your presence. I would love you, sweet girl, and let you live in luxury and comfort. I would dress you in silks and twine flowers in your hair." I clasped her hand between both of mine. "Would you like that?"

Her free hand touched her braid. "Would you punish me if I do wrong, Master? Would you cause me pain because you find it pleasurable? Would you require me to come to your bed regardless of my own desires?"

Would I? "Yes. But I would also cherish you, and pamper you, and give you everything you need."

"Except freedom. When I leave the Palace, I will be free, will I not, Master?"

I knew I should not reveal the ugly truth, but if it would make my proposal more attractive ... "No, sweet girl, you will not."

"But—"

"You will be released, but you will not be free. After three years in this place, you will be good for nothing else. You will be sold to some man to serve his pleasures, or you will walk the streets to earn money in the night, or you will beg to stay here. Where did you think you would go?"

"I was told coming to the Palace meant freedom from a life of labor or family. That I would serve three years and then be free." Panic laced her voice. "I thought I would be provided for, Master!"

The girls were fed lies, or no one would apply. "The Palace is for life, in one way or another."

"It's not true! It can't be!"

"Knowing that, sweet girl, does my offer become more attractive?"

"It's not true," she whispered.

"You may find a room in a brothel," I suggested. "There, at least, you choose your work."

Trapped, her lip quivered, and her chest heaved as she fought back sobs. "If what you say is true, Master, I would go with you, if that is your desire. Is it possible?"

"I will make it possible. Your life will not be arduous. And you will have only me to serve." I bent over her to kiss her. She did not return the kiss, nor did she pull away. "Am I so awful, sweet girl?"

"Master, you—" She paused and changed what she was going to say. "I have no one to compare you with."

"I what, girl?" I would have the truth out of her, whatever it may be.

"You confuse me, Master," she said in a small voice.

"What confuses you?"

"Master, one moment you are kind and comforting, and the next you cause me pain. It frightens me."

My cock leapt at the admission. Her skin flushed, twinkling with perspiration. The truth was, I understood myself no better than she did. "I would never cause you lasting harm, sweet girl," I said after a long moment.

Her head moved in a half-nod, as if she had already figured that out for herself. I kissed her again and yanked the blindfold off. She squeezed her eyes shut reflexively. I watched as her eyelids fluttered, then opened. Oh, the blue, blue depths, shining with unshed tears.

"What is your name?" I asked.

She squinted, searching my face for signs of a threat or displeasure. She should find none.

"My name, Master? A Palace girl has no name."

"You will not be a Palace girl after tonight." I hoped. "And I wish to know your name. Tell me."

"Catalyn, Master."

"Catalyn," I echoed. I wondered if she knew its meaning: Pure. My pure one. "It suits you." I doffed my shirt. "Sweet girl, has your handler used you yet?"

"Yes, Master. Last night."

I suppressed a growl of annoyance. "When you are mine, sweet girl, you will never know another." How could I convince her of my sincerity? Her fear of me ignited my ardor, but it saddened me as well, and I could make no more sense of the contradiction than she could. I held her gaze, and she met my eyes without defiance, though hers held a challenge of sorts. "Will you earn your pleasure tonight, Catalyn?" I murmured.

She blinked at my use of her name. "Master, what is your name?" she asked.

"I will tell you once you are safe with me," I said after a startled pause. I could not risk her knowing, should I fail in my attempt to acquire her.

The cut I had made on her breast had scabbed over and did not appear to bother her. I traced it with the tip of my finger, remembering her shock as I kissed her, her scream as the blade sliced into her tender flesh. The trickle of red blood had been both gratifying and satiating. I lowered my mouth to her nipple, drew the hardened nub between my lips. I sucked hard, until an explosion of breath said I'd reached a point of pain, then released the nipple. "Will you earn your pleasure, sweet girl?" I asked again.

"Yes, Master." Her response was almost a plea—definitely a request. The unspoken "how?" shone in her eyes.

"Good. Stand up and finish undressing me." I rose and stepped away from the bed, and she pushed herself up to sitting, head swiveling as she took in her surroundings. She paused for only a moment and then slid off the bed to her feet. I took her hand and guided her around so she stood facing me. "Slippers first," I directed.

She dropped to her knees on the soft carpets, and I lifted each foot in turn so she could remove my slippers.

"Trousers now. You know how to do this."

She gave another of those half-nods, unbuttoned my fly, and lowered my trousers with considerably more confidence than she had the last time. I stepped out of them, and she reached up to pull my undershorts down as well.

"Good, sweet girl."

She seemed more relieved than proud. That would do. I stared down at her, finding myself quite without a plan. Her eyes met mine. I could get lost in that gaze. How could I convince her of my sincerity? The feelings she evoked in me, I had never experienced before. I felt protective of her, possessive. She was always in my thoughts, even in my sleep. I needed her. But she feared me.

Of course she feared me. I had given her no reason not to. She saw me as cruel and unforgiving. And I was. I had been. I fixated on the cut I'd made on her breast, remembered her screams. Blood rushed to my groin, my cock twitching at the memory.

I did not want her to hate me.

"Suck my cock," I said, without the confidence my orders usually carried. My thoughts meandered over the events of the past few nights, and I didn't notice at first that she had made no move to begin. She knelt, hands resting on her thighs, eyes to the floor. "Girl!" I barked.

She flinched and looked up at me, fear etched in her expression. And still she defied me! Ever so slowly, she lifted one hand to my thigh, then the other to my cock, her light touch enough to drive me mad, tickling more than stroking. I allowed it, waiting to see what she would do. She rose up on her knees, poked her tongue out, and began an inexpert tease.

Impatience got the better of me. My hand darted out to grab her braid, and I hauled her to her feet. "I told you to suck my cock, girl," I growled. She trembled, her lower lip quivered, but she didn't fight me. "On the table, facedown." I released her braid, and she scrambled up onto the table with the alacrity she should have shown before.

I strapped her down without delay, anticipating her screams and the reddening of her ass. But then I let her stew for a long moment, taking my time selecting a tool from the cupboard. I fingered the leather tails of a flogger, hefted a cane, glanced back to make sure she was watching me. Her toes curled, her eyes trained on the cane in my hand. I replaced it, chose a belt, folded that in half and tapped it against my palm. I turned toward her in time to see her buttocks clench. The belt, then.

I returned to her side. She pressed her lips together, blinked too fast, then closed her eyes and sighed.

"Girl, you were defiant and slow to obey. Fifteen with the belt." I raised my arm, readying my first strike, and her eyes fluttered open, filled with resentment. I halted mid-swing, the belt hanging limp a finger's-breadth from her skin, staring at her. Was she testing me? I drew my arm back again, adjusted my stance for better aim.

How long could I keep her in my manor, beating her when she disobeyed, forcing her when she wished to be left alone, before I broke her myself? I did not want her resentment or her hatred. I wanted her willing submission.

I wanted her love.

No woman had ever caused such turmoil to burn in my breast. No slave had caused me to question my methods or my expectations.

"Why did you smile?" I asked her. The belt thumped to the floor.

Her head came up. "Master?"

"That first night. Why did you smile?" It had done me in, that smile. No slave had ever smiled under my ministrations, and few climaxed even when I wanted her to.

She wrinkled her brow, rested her cheek against the table's surface. "Because for a moment, Master, I felt free."

"Free," I echoed. "Despite your fear?"

"Yes, Master."

"Despite your servitude."

"Yes, Master."

"Despite your bondage."

"You had released my bonds, Master. And you lay me down so tenderly."

So she had noticed. Even then, even with the terror and pain, she had felt my affection, responded to it.

I crouched, picked up the belt. "I must punish you, sweet girl." There must be a way to have both her obedience and her love. There must be a way to be her master and her beloved. She had to decide to submit to me, and I had to accept that submission as the precious gift it was. But how? "Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master."

I raised my arm and brought the belt down with a sharp slap against her buttocks. The flesh jiggled, and a red mark appeared where the belt had struck. She did not cry out. A second lash, a second mark, and still no sound. The third brought a gasp, the fourth a quick inhale. I struck harder. And harder. Her knuckles turned white, and she bit her lip with the effort of holding back her cries and wails.

Why?

Ten, eleven, twelve. And finally a small whimper. My cock began to swell. She closed her eyes.

Thirteen, and a yelp. Fourteen, her breath hitched.

"Scream, girl," I ordered. I would not have this become a battle of wills.

Fifteen, even harder, left a welt rising in its aftermath, and she screamed. I dropped the belt.

"Good girl," I said, laying a hand on her head. I stroked her hair, my thumb trailing across her cheekbone, damp with perspiration and tears. She wept silently. From pain or despair? Or perhaps I had failed her test.

If I wanted her love, I had to earn it. But I had little experience with love. The Palace wasn't about love or affection. It was about carnal pleasure and indulging depraved fantasies. I had no wife at home, no beloved to return to. I had no interest in courtship. No maiden or lady or potential political ally had ever caught my eye. I was too busy governing.

I released her from the table. "Come lie on the bed," I said, an invitation, not an order.

She scooted backward off the table and crawled up onto the bed, lying on her back with her arms straight at her sides. She watched me warily. I lay down beside her, staring up at the ceiling, one arm folded under my head. My other hand found hers, my fingers curling over her palm.

I gathered my courage. It had to be done. If I needed her to choose me, she had to know whom she was choosing. It was a risk, giving her this information without the guarantee that she would not find a way to use it against me. "My name is Edric Thornhall, Governor of the Central District." I waited.

She turned her head toward me. Her hand relaxed in mine, and she took a breath as if to say something, but didn't voice her thought.

I hadn't asked her a question. Not that that had stopped her before. "You may speak, sweet girl."

"Governor?" She said the word as if it were unfamiliar or even unbelievable.

"Yes."

"What does a governor want with a slave girl? Master."

I rolled to my side to face her and propped myself up on my elbow. I didn't have an answer for that. But I had more to say. "I did not mislead you about your options when you are released from service here. You may be sold, retained to work in another capacity, or offered a room at a brothel, or you may choose to strike out on your own and attempt to support yourself. The Palace recruiters are dishonest, but who would agree to become a slave of the Palace if she knew what it truly entailed? However, I did not mean to frighten you into agreeing to come with me by telling you these truths."

"Then, why—" she began, but I was not finished.

"I come to the Palace because I take great delight in the opportunity to deflower a new slave girl. Her fear and innocence excite me. There is no other place where I can fulfill that desire, and certainly not repeatedly. I never had any interest in hiring a girl who had already been opened by another, nor to use a girl I had previously been with. The fear was never the same after the first time. Girls who have been trained do not have the same fear. There is no unknown. They know what to expect."

Catalyn's eyes widened, and curiosity faded to disgust. I rushed to continue.

"But then I met you. You're different, Catalyn. I could not get you out of my mind the whole night after I—we—after that first time. I had to see you again. And again. You excite me in new ways. I have ... I feel ... I want you."

"Why, Master?" she cried.

"Because you smiled. And because you climaxed. And because you are sweet and lovely."

Uncertainty clouded her expression, and a hint of fear that rekindled my arousal, and she licked her lips and let her gaze slide away from my face. "Do you expect me to return those feelings, Master?" she asked in a small voice.

"Expect? No. But I hope you will in time. I will say this plainly. You may choose not to leave with me. If you wish to finish out your service to the Palace, I will not force you to accompany me."

"Three years at the Palace, or a lifetime serving you, Master? How can I choose? And when I am older, and my hair is graying, and my face is wrinkled, will you still desire me this way? Or will you cast me aside when I am no longer 'sweet and lovely'?"

She saw the future more clearly than I did. I was caught up in the moment, in the new emotions and possibilities. But the life that stretched out before her, no matter what choices she made, was bleak. "I swear to you, on the oath of my office, that I will care for you always."

"But you will require my presence in your bed. You will beat me as you did just now. You said that, Master."

How could I make her see the difference? I didn't understand it completely myself. "Would that be worse than your duties at the Palace? Others will not be as restrained as I. Do you remember how I greeted you that first night? 'Is it to be pain or pleasure this evening?'"

"Yes, Master."

"With me, you will always have the option of pleasure. I can guarantee that will not be true for most of the other men who would hire you here."

She nodded, just a dip of her chin to her chest. "You would not require me to serve others?"

"Never."

"You would allow me clothing?"

"Allow? I would adorn you in the finest dresses."

"And a comfortable room?"

"Yes."

Tears pooled in her eyes. "But I would still be your slave. A prisoner. Forever!"

I settled onto my back again. "Is that so terrible to contemplate? A life of luxury, and your only obligation is to me? You wished for a life free of family and labor. I can offer that. The Palace cannot."

She was silent, though I detected a faint sniffle. I waited for a response. I could coerce her to speak, but I would not. Not this time. Her eyes moved back and forth, as if she were reading words etched on the ceiling, and finally she opened her mouth. "I will be yours, Master," she breathed.

I turned toward her, heart pounding, blood rushing to my loins. "Oh, sweet girl, those words—"

"But," she broke in, "may I make a request?"

"You may, though I cannot promise it will be fulfilled." What could she possibly request of me that I would not give her? Her words had thrilled me beyond measure.

"Give me the option to leave after three years, just as I would receive at the Palace."