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“Sir? Where do we have to go?”
“The Great Causeway, the entrance to the city,” he answered. “It’s not much farther.”
Ayala found herself looking at him in wonder. Her thoughts wandered to the prior day. She had been working in the fields only yesterday, facing death for her indiscretion, only to be rescued by this man. She blushed when she thought about the spanking he gave her, the lesson in obedience. She felt her body flush at the thought. He had threatened to use that heavy hairbrush, even the leather belt around his waist. Would he really do that?
He had been so strong, so powerful when he held her against his lap, spanking her bare backside. It had hurt, so very much. She had felt embarrassed, especially when he had taken down her underthings, but also strangely safe, even as his hand had
been smacking her. She caught herself wondering what those hands would feel like when used in a loving way, stroking her body instead of spanking it. A strange warmth passed through her again.
She stopped short, and Lord Eiotan turned back to look at her.
“Everything alright?”
“Yes… Yes, sir,” she quickly answered, knowing her face must be as red as an apple. She forced herself to begin walking again. He gave her a quizzical look. There was little time for him to question her any further, as they reached the Great Causeway very shortly after.
Ayala could have smacked herself. It was crazy for her to be thinking of her master in that way. He owned her. The fact that he spanked her proved that. He could have killed her, but instead found another use for her servitude. She found herself glaring at the ground, angry that she had allowed her emotions to take over. They could never be anything more than master and slave. Never.
The two of them reached the edge of the causeway, giving them a view of the distant lands. Ayala raised her eyes, looking out in wonder. The land looked dark. As her eyes focused, it looked like many ants wandering in the city’s general direction.
She gasped at the sight. It wasn’t ants; it was an army. There was hundreds, maybe thousands of men making their way to the city. A feeling of dread settled in her stomach. The king was waiting ahead, with a royal guard surrounding him.
Moctezuma was a powerful man, king of the Aztec empire. He was strong and ruled many kingdoms. It was his rule that had led to her capture long ago, when she was much younger. She had known little but hard work since coming to this city after she was sold.
A group was gathered on the other side of the causeway. They were wearing strange clothing. One man stood out, a white collar surrounding his throat. He was dressed in a dark shirt and pants, strong black boots. His dark hair seemed to fall in place; a dark beard surrounded his chin. As soon as her eyes fell on him, Ayala knew it had to be Cortés.
His gaze was strong, sure of himself. Danger seemed to seep from his every pore. His eyes flittered to her and narrowed. She gulped in a breath of air, nerves beginning to come to the surface.
Lord Eiotan’s grip tightened around her hand as he approached the king.
“My king,” he said with a bow of his head.
Moctezuma looked over at Lord Eiotan, his dark brown eyes, jet-black hair, and dark tanned skin turning in their direction. His royal clothing was simple, yet well made. A beautiful royal headdress sat atop his head, made with many different colorful feathers. The aura he presented was one of a ruler.
“Lord Eiotan!” Moctezuma exclaimed. A smile grazed his lips, but quickly disappeared. “It is good to see you. Now that you have arrived, we can begin this charade. You must keep your eyes peeled. I want to know their weaknesses, what they want. I am depending on you for this information.”
Lord Eiotan nodded. “I have brought my wife, as another pair of eyes to observe. My king, this is Ayala. She is beautiful, is she not?”
Ayala was careful not to raise her eyes as she curtsied for the king.
“You are a lucky man, Lord Eiotan. She is a beauty.”
Ayala dared to raise her eyes. “Thank you, my king,” she said as softly she dipped her head, hoping she had done the right thing.
The king smiled. “And obedient. Again, Lord Eiotan, you are a lucky man.” The king turned away and Ayala stole a glance at Lord Eiotan. Images of her spanking flashed through her head at the king’s comment.
She squeezed his hand softly and he nodded in confirmation.
“Come, it is time,” she heard the king say, a short distance away.
The group as a whole began to move toward the other side of the causeway. Ayala found herself making eye contact more than she felt she should, but she just wanted to see what was going on. Cortés’ group of men on the other side stood waiting, almost arrogant in their stances.
When Moctezuma and his nobles reached Cortés, the tension was palpable. Curiosity overtook her and Ayala dared to observe the foreigners, now that they were so close. Her eyes traveled over the group, seeing their light skin and dark hair, their clothing so very different from hers.
She found Cortés at the forefront, watching her, his eyes hungrily gazing over her from head to toe. The power in his stare was so harsh, dark even, that she took a step backwards in surprise, feeling as though she should run, as prey tries to escape a predator. Lord Eiotan’s arm snaked around her waist, holding her in place. Something was wrong in his gaze, some sort of power that was very dark, evil in a sense. It pulled her in, making her lust for it. Something about it was familiar, but she couldn’t place it.
She took a step forward toward him, and was pulled back. Ayala jumped and tore her eyes away, nervously looking back at Lord Eiotan, whom she realized had pulled her. His eyes looked down at her, a warning clear in his gaze. She stepped back into his arms and acted as though nothing had just happened. A cold fear began to rise in her gut. She didn’t know what just happened.
Ayala stared at the ground, her emotions threatening to take over. Anger, fear, sadness rippled through her. She watched as gold was given to Cortés and he was adorned with many flowers.
