EXTRACT FOR
His Saxon Slave
(Danielle Fonda)

It was in the blackest of night when the Norman lord came into his tent. Kiana had such terror inside her that she never closed her eyes once in all the long waiting. The Norman carried a torch with him and Kiana forced herself to gaze upon him, and what she saw made her suck in a tight breath. He was so huge. Armored, yes, but still brawny with strength nonetheless.



 

    His shoulders were weighty, and his thighs thickly laid. He was taller than other man she had seen, with his wild mane of black hair. It was thick and laid in a blackened tangled down his back, but it was his face that arrested her the most. This was no fair skinned Saxon man, but a rough-skinned, masculine warrior. The word warrior breathed in every harsh angle of his strong features, from the dark shadow on his jaw, of a beard not scraped in days, to his blunt, slightly crooked nose. His eyes were shards of brilliant light blue, gazing down at her as she shivered in unconscious rebellion upon what they were asking, before she turned her eyes hastily away.





     She should never have looked upon him so boldly! He would misconstrue her gaze for an invitation that she would never give to him. Even as this thought entered her mind, she was crying out her denial. "Nay!" she cried.



  

   Yet, he was already upon her, down on his knees beside her, lifting the fur away from her quaking nude body beneath. "You will not deny me, Saxon slave," he growled, even as his fist tangled in her hair at the back of her head. Then he pulled her hair, forcing her neck to arch backward, bowing her naked body toward him. She was supine beneath him and completely powerless "Have I the need to take a lash to you?" he asked coarsely, shifting his intense gaze over her naked breasts, down over her belly, to then halt on the exposed blonde mound between her thighs.



 

    His gaze remained focused there, on her helplessly bared sex, as he shook her head and hissed, "Answer me!"





     Coward! She was naught but a weakling coward, Kiana thought with agony, even as she cried out in terror and confusion. "Yes, beat me, for I will never willingly be thy slave!"





     "You will never hold against the pain. Your mere fragileness will defeat you," he muttered angrily, still holding her body arched to his rabid gaze. "Yet . . . if you insist to test me, I have no choice but to prove it to you."



 

    Kiana would have sobbed out her surrender, but her voice was too tight with fear as the Norman lord hauled her up onto her knees before him. He pulled at her hair again, forcing her head backward, with his gaze fiercely laid, as he watched her frantically twisting her wrists against the bonds holding her prisoner. Her chest heaved as frightened pants escaped her throat.



 

   "You are so frightened now, pagan Saxon, that you pant near to fainting," the dark lord muttered as his free hand rose upward to clasp her throat.



 

    Kiana thought surely he would choke her unto death, but his wide hand, while rough-skinned with callouses was gentle in its touch. He held her there, so vulnerable, so frightened, while the edges of his fingertips stroked her exposed throat. His thumb circled the hollow above her collarbone, while he caught and held her gaze with eyes so vivid, she felt as if they spoke secrets to her. Secrets of her fate and the surety that she was now his and nothing of this earth would change the power with which he would hold her subjugated to him.



 

    "Yea . . . but say to me, you are my slave, and will obey me, maiden, and I will not take you from my tent to lash your fair naked body for all my men to see," he claimed quietly, as he ran his fingers downward between her heaving breasts. Kiana quaked, but this time with more than fear inspiring it. "You would never last, pagan nymph, and I would despise to mar your pearly buttocks so."



 

    Would that she could speak, Kiana thought in agony, but her throat was as tight and trembling as her body. She could do naught, but look up at her dark master helplessly.





     Suddenly there came a shout outside the tent, The nearest voice yelling, "Milord, they have broken through the wall!"



   

  The dark Norman lord glared toward the tent opening, yet no one appeared as he raised his voice loudly, "Yea, I will be there at once!"



   

  When he tuned his gaze back to her, Kiana saw triumph lighting his startling blue eyes, and then whence he spoke, his voice was a deep tenor. "You have been rescued, pagan, for the moment. Yet??"while I leave you for this time, think upon my command. You will never have the hope of defying my determination for any length of time."



 

    His knuckles strayed between her breasts and lower over her belly and then brushed over the tuft of hair between her thighs. Kiana flinched away from his touch with a frightened pant, yet he released her saying, "Lay down again, maiden, and I will cover you."



 

    It was so awkward, but Kiana wanted nothing as much as that mere fur to cover her nakedness. So she managed, and he remained true to his word, placing the fur over her before he stood. "I would care for nothing better, than to fuck you the first time, in the lord's chamber of Garth," he stated arrogantly before he turned and left the tent.