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it  all,  to  pretend  he  was  as  happy  as  he’d  hopedto be on this night. No one knew his stomach churned with a fear of betrayal—a betrayal that might take place if he didn’t quickly get his vixen bride in line.

How many men have touched you already, my little wanton?  He cast her a sideways glance as they dined on every manner of beast and fowl, fruit and sweets—thenswallowed back his disappointment along with  a swig of dark wine, deciding it was  of no matter. Soon enough she would know only him.  Only him.  Nothing else would exist in her world.

As usual for a wedding of such circumstance, the region’s residents had turned out in their most revealing garments of fur and  leather, awaiting the Rituals of Passion they thought were to come. He caught Laene’s eye, where he stood flirting with a girl who wore only two strategically placed strips of thick brown leather, and waved him over.

“We are dispensing with the Rituals of Passion this evening,” he said when  Laene arrived.

His servant and friend of ten years blinked his shock. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me. There will be no Rituals of Passion following the feast.”

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Lacey Alexander

Laene gave his messy blond mane a short shake, his eyes narrowing in confusion.  “Then how  shall she be  made ready, Ralen?  She is more than just  a virgin, you recall—she’s a  royal  virgin. You know full well how clueless such girls are kept.”

Ralen shook his head and spoke with low confidence. “Not  this  girl. She knowsmore than she’s supposed to, trust me on this. She’s ready enough for what I have instore. So carry forth with whatever entertainment was planned and if that does not please the crowd enough, find some willing  females who might engage in a seductive dance for them. They expected Rituals of Passion, give them at least  some  passion,whatever you can devise to excite them.”

Laene still persisted in questioning him. “It’s unheard of to forsake such tradition, Ralen.”

Ralen’s reply came in a matter-of-fact tone.  “My bride does not need the rituals, myfriend. She  needs to be punished. No rituals  necessary for that— I  can handle  it on  my

own.”

* * * * *

Teesia flinched as Ralen’s hand latched tight onto hers,  his large fingers squeezing her smaller ones. “Let us go, bride.” His piercing look, along with his sharp delivery of the words, stunned her. Who  was  this man? He’d seemed so content during dinner—happy  even— but  now,  in  the  time  it  took  to  blink,  he’d  turned  cold  and  harsh  once

more.

As he pulled her up from her seat, her emotions swung from pleasant to fearful—again. The dress he’d commissioned for  her was lovely, as were the extravagant wedding jewels that adorned her, yet his fluctuating moods made it impossible to knowif he had perhaps started to forgive her—or if he simply hated her.

As he practically dragged her toward the great hall’s exit, she realized the crowd looked stunned to see them departing so  soon. “Where are we going?” she asked. The large wooden doors  fell shut behind them, leaving her alone  with him  in a widehallway—much like the one where they’d first met.  Even now, she shivered at the memory, her pussy tingling.

“To begin your training,” he said, never slowing their stride.

Her chest went hollow. “Sexual  training,” she said to clarify.

“Yes, vixen.” He didn’t  bother looking at her.

“But what about the Maran tiles?” she asked as he pulled her up a wide stone staircase. “Is it not time for me to play  the Maran tiles?” Perhaps that explained the  crowd’s dismay.

He drew to a rough halt on the  steps, turning to glare down at her. “You seem  awfully eager about that. Most royal girls fear it, from what I’m told. Perhaps, like  everything else, you know more about it than  you should.”

She cowered, feeling tiny beneath his accusing gaze. “No.”

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Master of Desire

A humorless laugh echoed through the fort  around her. “Well, no Rituals of Passion for you, wanton.”

She swallowed as they proceeded up the stairs. “Rituals…of Passion?”

Only once  they reached the top did he pause long enough to turn his dark, narrowed eyes on her again. “I’m sure you’ve  heard of the pleasures to be had after the Maran game.”

She could barely breathe. “Only…that, yes, there  are  pleasures.”

“And you’d like that, wouldn’t you, naughty Teesia?” His expression hovered somewhere between aroused and threatening— then tipped entirely  toward the latter.  “Well, too bad, I’m afraid. For I have a whole different sort of training in mind for you.”

* * * * *

Teesia held her breath as Ralen led her into a  large room filled with…Ares, so many exotic, erotic things that she could barely absorb it all!

First, a large, ornate bed—unlike any she’d  ever seen. Large posts rose from its four corners, the wood carved so that it appeared to twist ‘round and  ‘round. Some six feet up, each post curved inward, the four winding cylinders of wood meeting in the center and then wrapping around one another until finally coming to a sharp point at the top. Above the bed—dear Ares—she saw a large viewing glass pieced together and mounted on the ceiling!

Another spot in the room contained a small  table, two chairs on either side. Nothing too heinous about that, but then came the next, larger table—or she guessed it was a table anyway. But it was covered, padded with soft, brushed leather. Expensive metal chains extended from the table’s four  corners—she had no idea why, only the faint sensation that it looked  forbidding.

Beyond that  lay a wall mounted with countless pegs and shelves and cabinetry, on which were displayed leather riding crops  of  various sizes and styles, and—oh my!—an assortment of the clay  cocks Bella had introduced her to, and other items she didn’t even recognize. The sight of  the play cocks tightened  her chest and, Ares help her, her cunt. The entire chamber, hung and covered with rich silks and leathers, seemed made for a sort of fucking she could not

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