R. C. SmithShort Stories and Vignettes

Do not read my works if you are offended by descriptions of sexuality and violence.
(Do not read them just for those descriptions, either.)

Test of Loyalty

“This is a test of loyalty for both of us,” she said.

She, the Master's former concubine. And I was going to be the new one.

We were alone in his bedroom — upon my arrival at the house, I had been sent here and told to wait for him. When I entered the room, I found her lying on the bed, on her back, naked, legs and arms spread, tied to the bedposts.

There was something wrong about her body. There was something wrong about her face, too — it was distorted in pain. It took me a moment to see in what way her body was wrong — it was distorted, too. Her arms and her legs were broken in several places. Her hips and her shoulders seemed to be broken, too. The ropes that bound her did not stretch her broken limbs tautly, they left some slack, but they held her firmly.

Her body was covered with wounds, some of them old, a few of them fresh and bleeding.

She had long dark hair, and she was very pretty.

“A test of loyalty?” I asked.

“Take off your clothes,” she said, and I could hear the effort it took her to form the words despite her pain.

I complied. Under her intense gaze I was beginning to feel aroused.

“He will be pleased,” she said.

“This is what I am here for,” I replied, “to please him.”

“This is what we all are here for,” she said, and there was mild reproach in her voice.

An involuntary movement sent a wave of pain through her, and she moaned through clenched teeth, her eyes wide open, but looking at nothing.

“A test of loyalty?” I asked again after a while, for I felt there might be something I should know before the Master entered the room.

“He will have sex with you,” she said.

“Of course,” I replied.

“He will have sex with you right here,” she said, “on this bed. On top of me. You will both lie on top of me, and you must love him, you must give your best, you must embrace him with all your passion.”

I tried to imagine the pain this would cause her.

“And you?” I asked.

“I must not scream,” she said. “If I scream, you die. We both would die, which would end my pain, but as he wants to keep you, I must not scream. I must not deny you to him. And you, though knowing that one scream from me would kill you, you must not take heed of my agony.”

“I am sorry,” I said.

“What for?” she asked.

We waited in silence until the Master arrived.

“Has she told you?” he asked me.

“Yes,” I said. “If it pleases you, I will try to make her scream.”

He slapped my face, hard.

It had been such a stupid thing to say. What had I tried to do? Ingratiate myself with him, by telling him that I was willing to give my life for his pleasure? How shamefully presumptuous. How could I offer to give him something that was already his?

And what an insult, to insinuate that he might want me to try to influence my own fate, and that of my predecessor.

Unforgivable. I blushed, but he forgave me.

I knew better than to thank him, to humiliate him by implying that he had forgiven me for my sake. He had forgiven me because he wanted me, for now, and my thanks had to be quiet.

He got into the bed, and knelt down between the woman's legs. The movement of the mattress must have caused her awful pain, but he had avoided to touch her, or to rest his weight upon her broken bones.

This was for me to do.

His penis was half erect, waiting. That other woman's open sex right before him, he was waiting for me!

I got onto the bed, to serve him with my hands, my mouth, my breasts, my vagina, my whole body.

I was lying on my back, right on top of her, when he entered me.

All through our passionate embraces, her moans were never louder than his.


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