Slavemaster's Woman, The Read Online Free PDF Page B

see him. Her curves were feminine, shapely. She was slender and
petite though not overly of either. Her rounded bottom was
partially submerged beneath the water, petals of shasheri flowers floating around her. The scent was sweet, titillating. It
would still cling to her later.
    Tarken knew the fragrance. It was one of the
most expensive and powerful aphrodisiacs in the galaxies.
    Lavidis acted wisely with his attempt to
arouse Tarken’s libido. It was sharply obvious the girl was damaged
goods. The flesh on her back was a network of scratches, and he
couldn’t imagine how the rest of her was marred. Tarken would know
when she was turned around, and he had to wonder if her face was
scarred as well.
    Despite this pondering, something inside the
slavemaster stirred. He felt impatience as he waited for her to
face him. It was more than curiosity about the condition of her
body, and it was more than the sensation of his cock now thickening
in his trousers. He felt something intriguing about her. There was
something mysterious about this woman. But no , Tarken denied
that. It was the aphrodisiac meddling with his mind.
    What would her eyes look like? How
womanly would the front of her body be, her breasts, her stomach,
her mound? An image of her clit entered the slavemaster’s mind, his
eyes taking in its shape, his finger flicking it. Would she become
immediately wet for him? “Enough!” Tarken bellowed, startling the
court below.
    Even Lavidis, who stood at his side started
slightly. “Her preparation is nearly comp—”
    “There is no preparing needed!” Tarken’s
voice boomed even louder. “There is no concealing the condition
she’s in.”
    The sound of his irate tone caused the woman
to glance over her shoulder. Her crystal clear eyes fixated on
Tarken.
    Immediately, his gaze locked with hers and a
sparking charge passed between them. It was unfriendly, aggressive
even, almost as if she was challenging him. The rebellion the
slavemaster saw there spoke volumes about the steadfastness of this
woman.
    She was far from a typical, compliant
slave.
    Spirits…damn him.
    She sneered at him, her eyes riveting as if
she were attempting to spear him to a wall.
    Annoyance besieged the slavemaster. How dare
she attempt to stare him down? Unwilling to break first eye
contact, Tarken glared intensely, and she kept glaring back. Did
the woman understand he could activate her slave band for that? She
could even be beaten, or starved, or confined in closed in
quarters, staked to the ground or… Damn she has beautiful
eyes .
    Colorless crystals, they sparkled like the
finest of gems. Droplets of water clung to her long lashes, and her
eyes tilted slightly at the corners. Her gaze was the clearest
crystalline he’d ever seen. Their translucency was mesmerizing.
    He could dissolve in them.
    A tremor quaked up Tarken’s spine, and his
balls tightened. He attempted to shake off the unruly feelings but
instead, nearly choked on his breath when the attendants turned her
around. Peripherally, his vision caught a glimpse of her rounded
breasts, but he refused to break the lock he had on her eyes.
    The woman would think she had the upper hand
if he looked away first. He was master, she was slave. Her station
would be established immediately, and Tarken would make damn sure,
she knew who was in charge despite her beauty and her fabulous body
and how he loved the look of her face—her face, it was perfection
personified.
    Despite himself, Tarken felt his expression
soften, and before he even realized what he was doing, a smile
crested his lips, his gaze becoming cordial, almost admiring.
Though subtle, Tarken observed that something in her expression
yielded as well. Her affect seemed less defiant, her eyes showing
more interest, than anger, or perhaps confusion. It was then she
cast her gaze to the side.
    Good . She was conceding to his
dominance over her.
    The victory was short-lived, for as the maid
servants led her from the pool, the