The Sheik and the Slave

“Thank you. My father was very indulgent with me. Had I been a man, I would have followed my brother to Eton.”

Horace almost snorted. Never mind Eton. I have work for that pretty little mouth that doesn’t involve talking, he thought and almost stroked his hard cock.

“Yes. I’m sure you would have excelled. However, as a woman I understand that there have been offers of marriage. One offer has been turned down, though I believe the Earl is quite intoxicated with you.”

Katharine frowned at the turn of conversation. “Yes. I have had offers,” she said. “However, my father is indulgent. I do not need to rush into anything unwanted.”

“Your father is kind, generous.”

“He is,” she agreed.

“I’m sure you are aware that I am not without funds, and I am a titled baron as you already know.”

Katharine nodded, though wasn’t sure where the conversation was leading.

“Yes.”

“I find you quite alluring, my dear. So much so that I have be

en thinking about what remedy could assuage the situation.”

Katharine was at a loss for words as he came toward her.

“My lord?” she asked.

“I am unable to offer you marriage.” He was taller than she was and though older, he was compact and muscled. He was graying at the temples, and his hooknose and fleshy lips were inches from her face. “But I am enchanted. You must know that, my dear.”

Katharine shook her head, fighting the nausea as it rose up.

“My lord,” she began.

“Yes. Yes,” Horace said. He touched her golden hair and then her neck. His fingers lingered on her the diamond necklace, touching each jewel before he spoke. “I can offer you a comfortable life. I have a townhouse prepared for you and an account at the finest dressmaker in London.”

Katharine was frozen. Her icy hands were at her sides as she tried to take in the information.

“You want me as your mistress?” she asked, insulted.

“Yes, yes. Tonight. Tonight,” he said. His thick hands held her arms at her sides and he was suddenly pressing into her. She could feel his thickness through the fabric of their clothes and his fleshy lips were on her neck.

His one hand moved to touch her neck again and then his thick fingers were moving over the tips of her breasts. His other hand was clawing at her skirts, trying to raise them.

Katharine was disgusted and sickened, but moved quickly to stop the baron. She slapped him hard across the face, almost curling her hand into a fist.

The baron looked shocked that she had dared to raise a hand to him and moved toward her again.

She slapped his other cheek hard and she moved around him.

“You are disgusting! Do not ever come near me again!” she yelled.

Then she was gone, almost running, down the long gallery, passing the portraits of long-dead men and women hanging in their places. She found a looking glass before she entered the ballroom and tried to calm her nerves. Her hands were shaking and her cheeks were flushed pink. She closed her eyes.

Stay calm, stay calm, she told herself.

When she rejoined the party, she asked her brother to indulge her; though she had enjoyed the evening, she had a severe headache and wanted to return home. He allowed her to do so. She never mentioned the incident with the baron and chose to forget it. The baron, however, did not.

Horace visited his favorite brothel that evening. He was particularly degrading with the woman, taking her hard on all fours and then filling her mouth with his seed. The entire time he took her, he thought of the haughty blonde with her ice-cold diamonds and even colder stares.

How dare that little upstart bitch attack him? He had offered her a comfortable position serving him and doing little in return. She had attacked him like a feral cat on the street. His cheek had been red for hours and he even felt a loose tooth. Damn her! He felt his cock growing hard again at the thought of having her tight cunt and mouth service him. She didn’t want him? She thought herself too good to play mistress to a baron of the realm? The bitch would pay.