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With teeth bared, eyes steamy with blackness, he vaulted into position and entered her with one swoop of his hips. The pace of thrusts was frantic, and at first, she was close to panic, knowing she was barely accommodating his girth. But somewhere, hidden beneath the veneer of the beast, was Gervais, a man in control of his actions. He kept the plunges shallow, using her gasps as a judge of depth, and when she ceased shaking and managed to relax her pelvis, he sank into the depths of her pussy, and knocked hard on the barrier to her womb. She felt the impact of his thrusts jarring her with their measured force, and the tremendous friction of his firmness brushing against her inner walls. And then it happened. She let go of her worries, the last niggling doubts that she wasn’t able to satisfy him, and focused her attention on the exquisite features of his face, the rise and fall of his chest, the oceanic ripples of his biceps and stomach muscles. Each part of him was sculptured, well-balanced and formed, and not the slightest bit beastly or unnatural. Whatever Gervais feared he might be, he was a man to adore and worship, not fear.
“Come, come,” he hollered.
She screamed. The orgasm was unparalleled in its spasms. The pain battled the pleasure, and the latter one through. She basked in the climax, unaware that Gervais had not let up, nor was he going to. She cried out again, as the orgasm rose up once more, and continued, refusing to give her an endpoint.
Lionel burst into the room, the door crashing against the wall behind him.
She hadn’t called for him, but her cry had.
Gervais, at last, paused. He stared into her blurry eyes and she blinked, feeling the orgasm die a slow death.
“Oh,” she said with disappointment. “My depraved cries have summoned your squire by mistake.”
Gervais glanced over his shoulder. All Matilda could see were the red cheeks of Lionel as he stumbled backwards, reversing from the room. Gervais chuckled.
“Fear not, boy, I have not split her,” he said calmly. “Be gone.”
“My ‘ord,” the squire stuttered with his half-tongue, and ran out of the room.
“Lock it,” she said.
He eased out of her, his momentum broken, and the dark shadows his features slipped away leaving behind a brightness in his face that was familiar. The interruption had not angered him.
“No,” Gervais said firmly.
She swept a rogue lock of her hair off her cheek and reached up to touch his flushed one. She cupped her palm and he covered her hand with his.
“I’m not afraid of you, Gervais. My Zalim. My lord,” she said softly. “Put it back and do what you have to.”
He shook his head.
“I beg you. This thing you have under lock and key needs me. I feel it in your sinews. You will not harm me, even when it is rabid.”
Another shake, but this time less convincing. He sighed. “This is just the beginning, Tilda, my little bird. Such a small thing you are when you lie beneath me, crumpled into a ball, your pussy wet and playful, your breasts the perfect spectacle. I have my heart set on all of you and for the whole night. Do you understand now what fate awaits you if you stay?”
She swallowed hard. “Yes. I am to be your captiv
e and do as you want. I will, I know I can. Please, lock the door. When the key is outside, then I am truly yours. My freedom comes when I am kept here where your Zalim reigns supreme.” The words came pouring out of her mouth, but she knew they came from her heart. “I love you,” she said carefully.
Gervais kissed the palm of her hand, as he had done on their first occasion of intimacy. A bout of shivers turned her nipples into stones and her pussy clenched around its molten core. Gone was the pain of her whipping; gone, too, the importance of dignity. She prayed he might humiliate her in ways that brought her countless orgasms and him the best reward of all, her utter submission, and his domination of her soul.
He shaped his mouth into a pucker, then a soft, handsome smile emerged. “You have conquered me, my lady. My Zalim is subdued, he has seen what matters most to both of us, and that is love. He cannot win against love.”
Her lower lip trembled. What had she done? “I did not mean to destroy that part of you. I thought it was impossible.”
He cocked his head. “Destroyed? Oh, no, not so. It isn’t possible. However, you seem to have given it wisdom. It needs feeding still, the hunger remains, and the need for the hunt, also, but I think in my heart, it will never be the same. The anguish and pain has lifted. Just now, when Lionel came in uninvited, I stopped, not because he was here, but because you might have needed me to. I noticed you, my sweet, in the throes of my passion. I can be both man and beast. I can love you.”
She hooked her arms around his broad shoulders and drew him down. There in a tender embrace, she cried softly with relief.
He squirmed free and blushed like a boy. “Oh, sweetness,” he said jubilantly. “Let us not tarry like this. I have needs still. We shall build again, but this time with a gentleness, and when you are ready, I shall resume my beastly ways knowing you are mine.”
He extracted himself from her, walked to the door, locked it, and shoved the key under the gap. “Lionel,” he called through the wood. “Get you to bed. You’re not needed.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
He ravished her. There was no other way to describe what he did that night. The slow climb, which was built upon tender foundations, eased her body and mind, and ensured her continuing cooperation. The Zalim waited patiently, knowing he was not to be neglected, and duly unleashed when it suited Gervais and Matilda.
Gervais watched her carefully. Her moon-shaped eyes occasionally dwelt on his face, the silver irises magnified by the candlelight. When her lips parted, they murmured nonsense. There were other little clues to her state of mind: the way her throat constricted in anticipation; the rise and fall of her plump breasts in tune with her breathing. He judged her perfectly, and when she was soft and pliable, he rolled her onto her belly, and speared her where it mattered most for him. First the wet hole that had greeted him earlier, and he used it generously, and she had no qualms in reply to his playful intent. He teased her, sometimes with mercy, but not always. Twice he brought her to the cusp of a climax, stilled, and ruined it for her, then commanded her to come with frantic thrusts. She never complained and only ever obliged him.
