“Taking pleasures is very relaxing,” Dillon said to her, surprised. “And pleasures are not necessarily confined to the nighttime hours. They can be taken at anytime and in anyplace. I have made love in a garden beneath the noonday sun, and in a desert oasis with only the stars for light, as well as in my bed.”
Cinnia wrinkled her nose. “Have I not said I do not wish to hear about your other women, my lord? It is not a subject that is of interest to me, nor are your exploits. But as I do not wish you to be discontent in Belmair for we need your magic, let us set a time each week for us to take pleasures together. If your lusts need to be released more frequently then you have my permission to take a concubine for your pleasures.”
“Nay, Cinnia, only you will serve my lusts, and you will do so when and where I desire it,” Dillon told her.
“How dare you order me about!” Cinnia cried out angrily.
“Dare?” He laughed briefly. “May I remind you, Cinnia, that I am the king of Belmair. And you are its queen only because I permit you to be. I think perhaps the time has come for me to teach you that lesson so you will not forget it again.” Reaching out he yanked her into his arms and kissed her hard. “Soften your lips,” he commanded her, and then he kissed her again. This time the kiss was slow and hot.
Her heart was beating wildly, but she wasn’t going to let this foreigner they had made her marry control her. Cinnia bit the lips kissing hers.
“Ouch!” Dillon yelped, surprised that she would fight back. But then taking her by her arm he dragged her across the hall, sat down upon a chair and yanked her down across his lap, pulling up her silk skirts as he did. His big hand descended to make contact with her bare flesh as he licked the blood from his lips.
Cinnia squealed furiously. “Stop that at once, you brute!” she commanded him.
Dillon began to spank her in earnest. “Did no one ever bother to teach you manners, you vicious little bitch?” he demanded. Eight. Nine. Ten.
“I hate you!” Cinnia yelled, and she struggled to escape his grasp.
“Your behavior and attitude haven’t exactly warmed my heart, either,” he growled at her. His hand continued to smack at her round bottom. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen.
“I’ll never take pleasures with you again, you beast!” she threatened.
“Oh, yes, you will,” Dillon replied. Twenty! “I’m going to teach you how to be a woman, Cinnia.” He dumped her onto the hall floor, and stood up. “Anytime. Anyplace.” He quickly pulled her up. “Here. Now!”
Cinnia suddenly found herself being drawn down into his lap, and onto his manhood. She gasped with surprise to find herself very wet and ready for him. How could this be? He had been violent with her, and not at all a lover. She moaned low as her burning buttocks made contact with his bare thighs, and she felt him inside her fully sheathed. “The servants!” she cried softly.
“Will learn to be discreet,” he said as softly. “Now ride me, my queen, and ride me hard. If you do not give me pleasures, Cinnia, I will move us to the high board, and take you there until you do,” he threatened her. “I will lay your naked body upon that polished wood and make you scream for all in the castle to hear. Now, ride me!”
Cinnia began to cry. “I don’t know how!” she sobbed.
“Move yourself up and down upon my rod, my queen,” he told her, and when she began to comply he encouraged her, “That’s it, Cinnia. Now faster, and yet faster!”
She jogged up and down upon his manhood, her pace growing quicker with each passing moment. He held her gently about the waist, encouraging her onward. Her eyes closed and she grew languid as in spite of herself Cinnia began to enjoy the conjunction between them. His hardness felt so good. He probed her deeply and suddenly something within her responded. “Oh, yes!” she cried low. “Yes!”
Dillon smiled to himself. He had found her magic center. Every woman had one. It was just a matter of finding it. He helped her to help him work it, and very quickly Cinnia was whimpering as the pleasures began to flood her. “That’s it, my queen,” he murmured in her ear, and he kissed her mouth in a long and lingering kiss. This time she did not bite him. And then he felt the quivers within her beginning to rise up to overwhelm her. He allowed her the moment, and when she fell forward on his shoulder he gently lifted her off of his turgid manhood cradling her against his silk-covered chest. It would quiet itself shortly, and he was not at all ready to give up pleasures. The night was young. “Are you ready to eat now?” he asked her casually.
“You are a horrible man,” Cinnia murmured, her eyes still closed.
“When we have finished our meal I will show you some other places a man and a woman may take pleasures together,” he purred in her ear.
She wanted to stand up, but she knew that right now she couldn’t. How was it possible that he could make her feel this way? But it felt so right nestling against him.
Finally Cinnia thought she might stand up. “I’m ready now,” she told him, and arose from his lap wobbling just slightly. She felt his hand beneath her elbow and while she wanted to tell him she was perfectly capable of walking by herself, Cinnia didn’t dare because she knew it wasn’t true, and worse, so did he.
He seated her at their high board and took his place next to her. And then as if by magic the servants began entering the hall with the steaming bowls and platters with their meal. If any of them had seen or heard what had just transpired between their master and their mistress, they showed no evidence of it. Dillon filled his plate with raw oysters, prawns, ham and meat pie. Cinnia took prawns, capon and an artichoke. There was bread, butter and cheese, which they shared.
“The hall is too big for just the two of us,” Dillon noted. “Is there a smaller chamber we might use?”
“My father always ate in the Great Hall,” Cinnia said.
“I am not your father,” Dillon responded. “The hall is a grand place for entertaining, but you and I need a more intimate place to dine when we are alone.”
“It is tradition…” she began.
“Some traditions need to be changed. It is ridiculous for two people to eat in a hall built for great feasts. And it makes extra work for the servants who have to trot the length of this hall simply to bring us a platter or bowl so we may take a bit of food.” Dillon looked out over the hall to where the servants stood attentively awaiting an order.
“Who is steward here?” he asked.
A plump, short man stepped forward. “I am, Your Majesty. My name is Britto.” He bowed politely. “How may I serve Your Majesty?”
“Is there a smaller chamber where the queen and I may eat when we are alone?” Dillon asked the steward.
Britto’s brow furrowed in thought. Say no. The steward heard Cinnia’s voice in his head, for a quick look in her direction told him she had not spoken aloud. Say no! came the command again. “Your Majesty, I regret we have no other accommodation for your meals,” Britto said apologetically.
“You are certain, Britto?”
“Yes, Your Majesty, I am certain,” the stewart said nervously.
“Then there is nothing else for it but that I make the Great Hall smaller when it is just the two of us,” Dillon replied calmly. “Hall, small,” he said. And suddenly the chamber walls seemed to move in, and the length of the room shrank by three-quarters.
Britto’s eyes grew wide with his surprise, and the waiting servants murmured anxiously as they suddenly found themselves in a considerably smaller space.
“What have you done?” Cinnia demanded to know.
“It’s a simple charm,” Dillon told her. “When