Page 19 of Given to the Fae (The Dark Realms #3)

‘It didn’t take much,’ Locke replies, his eyes not leaving me. ‘No one saw, don’t worry, but she understands now that I don’t tolerate rebellion. Do I, female?’

I shake my head with a sniffle, staring at the ground and willing myself not to try to run again.

‘Come closer.’

I take a tiny step forward, and he chuckles and pulls me down to him.

I lose my balance, landing on his knee, and he quickly positions my legs either side of his, opening me.

I realize that whether by accident or by design, my slave’s dress hides everything.

No one will see me, or what he does. I glance up at his eyes, grateful, at least, for that.

‘I’m not going to hurt you.’ He glances out at the room and frowns at the audience. ‘I’m going to take your hearing and sight from you while I do this. I will give it back when I’m finished. I’m very good at this and if you try to relax, it will be over very quickly. Nod if you understand.’

Eyes wide, I incline my head, and, as my vision slowly goes dark, as the room quiets, I realize he never spoke the words aloud.

‘I’m sorry it has to be this way, lass.’

Nothing happens at first. Then, I feel the merest touch over the rough cloth of my dress over my left nipple.

It puckers, and I gasp. He does the same with the other, and a hand moves slowly down my back, traveling around to my front and delving between our close bodies.

Light fingers travel up my inner thigh but stop before they reach my cleft.

He then does the same on the other and I shift on his knee almost as if my body wants to be closer.

But that can't be right. I don't want this, do I?

Fingers graze the sensitive skin of my abdomen just above my mound, making me tense, and then he’s there , touching me, flitting over a place that no one’s ever touched before – not even me, at least not like this !

I know I gasp loudly though I can't hear myself as those deft, knowledgeable fingers part my nether lips wide and play at the entrance of the channel I know is there. My body locks in fear as unwanted memories assail me and my unseeing eyes clench tightly shut as I prepare for the pain, a distant memory now, but not one I’ll ever forget.

‘I’ll not hurt you,’ he says, but not with his lips.

His words appear in my mind, not in sound, but in intent .

Yet I hear him, and a warmth washes over me, soothing me and making my body relax immediately.

In the furthest reaches of my mind, I know he’s cast magick on me.

He’s a mage, but, in this moment, I don’t care what he is or what he’s done.

He’s taken away the terror and the memory that caused it and now I feel calm, almost euphoric even.

I sigh, relaxing into his arms once more, feeling my head on his shoulder and nuzzling against his neck.

He smells like leather and a spice I can’t place, and the scent of him makes me feel secure despite what’s happening.

A finger slides into me slowly and I clutch at his shoulders at the intrusion that I find isn’t as unwelcome as I thought it would be.

He’s gentle as he moves it in and out, and my body grasps at him, wanting something I don’t understand.

He does it again and again until, soon, I’m slick with want and his digit slides in and out easily.

I jolt as he adds another, crying out as he stretches me, my fingers digging into his biceps. There's a feeling coiling low in my belly and I need more . My mouth opens to beg for a thing I don’t have words for, and I almost hear his chuckle, but before I can speak, he hushes me.

Two thick fingers thrust into me firmly but gently and my hips buck of their own accord. He decides the rhythm, impaling me deeply and his thumb finds that place above that he touched before. He circles it with sure touches that have me wriggling and writhing.

His arm locks around my waist, keeping me anchored to where he wants me to be, and his pace quickens. My legs wind around him, seeking more, opening myself as much as I can for him.

And then I feel it, this thing they wanted to happen, the release, and I understand why it's called that.

I don't hear myself, but I know I throw back my head and scream as pleasure pulses through me.

My body is taut as a bow string, every muscle locked in a prison of ecstasy as pleasure envelops me, pleasure from a slaver .

The thought cracks through what my body has been made to feel and I suddenly want to cry. All at once, my eyes and my ears come back, and I find my legs wrapped around Locke’s waist, still trying to get as close to him as possible. He's holding me gently and firmly. I feel safe .

Fool.

My eyes lock with his. For a moment, I see something deep in them that I don't understand, and then he looks beyond me and his lips curve into a cocksure smirk.

I close my eyes, my stomach dropping like a stone into watery depths.

‘Surely, that's got to be some sort of record,’ he says loudly with a guffaw, standing up and taking me with him.

Gods, I want fate to make him suffer, but he’s one of the ones it doesn’t punish. And what would it punish him for anyway? He told the truth. He didn’t hurt me, not bodily.

My legs uncurl from him, and my feet touch the ground. He lets me go and gives me a small pat on the head before waving me away lightly. I’m put in the pen alone and I curl up by the wall into the smallest ball that I can, staring at nothing.

I don’t hear the slavers clapping Locke on the back while telling him that they'd never seen a release performed so quickly and deftly outside the block, and I definitely don’t hear them exclaiming that they’d no idea such squeals of pleasure could come from a human female.

I don’t know how long it is before Bell and Ila return, but when they do, they’re clean and look much healthier, though underweight. Their hair is washed and scented, and their rough woolen slave dresses have been replaced with colorful silk and gossamer.

I don’t look at them. I don’t hear them chortling to each other, or their catty and smug remarks, don’t see the sneers Bell gives me.

With every word I don’t hear, I wish more and more to sink into the floor, to sleep and never wake. I thought that Ogdan, Sio, and The Barrack had taken all there was to take from me, but Locke has just stolen something else, perhaps the last thing.

Bell and Ila chat amongst themselves almost happily, barely looking at me, which I’m glad of, and soon they’re taken from the pen and loaded into the cart.

All of Bere’s men bar Locke, Morgan, Jak, and Warrior leave, taking Bell and Ila with them.

I hope that I’ve seen the last of the female slaves, and also that they’re sold, as they wish, to a wealthy household, and then I resolve to think of them no more.

Warrior throws some meat into my pen at some point in the night with an amused snort. It lands in the straw by my feet. I ignore it. Instead, I close my eyes and huddle deeper into my corner, numb and deader inside than I’ve felt in a very long time.

‘Get up, slave. Time to go.’

I jerk awake as my foot is kicked gently and I gaze up to see Warrior. He throws a wineskin down at me and gestures for me to drink, and then he leaves, taking a saddle with him. I grimace as I uncork the skin and smell the hated tea, but I drink it.

While no one’s watching me, I get to my feet awkwardly, my body stiff and aching between my legs a little. I relieve myself in the rough wooden bucket in the other corner. When I’m finished, I find that Warrior has returned. He looks impatient.

I’m pulled from the pen, and then from the stable.

Outside, rain lashes down in sheets and I hunch my cloakless form to try to stay even a tiny bit dry.

It’s fruitless though, because Warrior keeps me standing in it while we wait for the others.

He looks at me oddly, and I realize with a sinking feeling that he’s seeing if causing me misery without pain will get him punished.

I’m not sure, but I hope so.

I try not to laugh out loud when he slips in the mud and falls flat on his back, but I have to turn away because I don’t quite manage it. My mirth is short-lived, however, when he picks me up and hoists me onto a horse’s back, only to climb on behind me.

I’ve never ridden before so I’m already afraid of being so high up, and then I feel him settle into the saddle behind me with a grunt, and everything’s even worse. His breath is hot on my ear, and I can’t get away from it when his arms snake around me and pull my back flush against his front.

‘I’ll get you for that, you stupid, useless, little Kismet.

Locke won’t be there to save you next time, though I don’t know him well.

Perhaps he’d be happy to use your pain to make others suffer.

’ He leans in closer. ‘Ugly, useless, unworthy. That’s what you are.

You know that, don’t you? All the other slaves endure so much more than you do.

You deserve all the pain and misery you get. ’

I try not to let Warrior’s words get to me.

After all, Ogdan would say the same sort of things often, once he knew that fate never punished words, no matter how mean-spirited, but despite my resolve, I feel lower and lower as we pass through the town toward the square, to the Gate I was going to try to escape through yesterday.

Locke, riding at the front, hasn’t even looked at me once. Morgan neither.

It’s as if I’ve been abandoned, though I know it’s silly. To be discarded, you must first have to be kept and protected. Morgan did a fine job of pretending for half a day, but, in the end, his promises were hollow like all masters’ vows are.

Our party gets to the Ring, and I hear Jak ask the keeper when the Breach will open. Turns out it isn’t for a few more minutes, so it’s decided that we’ll wait in the rain, them with their oiled cloaks to keep the weather off them, and me with my soaked, cold, wool dress.