The Binds That Tie: The Tacky Sequel

By Bat Morda

[email protected]

1997




Entering Lothar's dining hall, I quickly took note of the guards, their weapons and their positions. Absently I wondered how the pervert had managed to keep his kingdom. Everything, to the last guard, was exactly as it had been five years ago. The man was a creature of habit. It wouldn't surprise me if he'd arranged for me to sleep in the exact same quarters I'd always used. There was a vacant seat next to his throne; I headed up to take it, whether it was reserved for me or not.

"It's been too long, Xena," Lothar said in greeting as I took my place. Following the lead of the other slaves, Gabrielle kneeled next to me.

"Yes, it has," I agreed. "I'm sorry I have to visit under such troubling circumstances."

I gave him credit. He had the decency to try and look surprised. "What circumstances might those be?" he asked, absently fondling the breast of his half-naked wine server. As always, Hedge sat at his side, head resting on the king's thigh.

"You're making Kaltor nervous, Your Majesty," I said, tasting his wine. "Kaltor is a friend, and I hate it when my friends get nervous."

"Well, I hope you're not here to overthrow me?" he asked jokingly.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes at that. Instead I smiled. "Oh, no," I replied. "If I were, I'd be sitting in that chair," I commented with a pointed nod to his throne. "I thought we might try to talk about it first." Lothar was a fool if he thought he was going to bluff me.

"Am I really to believe your army is prepared to strike?" he asked, trying to sound unconcerned and failing.

I shrugged. "Lord Malcom thought I was bluffing and look where it got him. Which reminds me, he was about your size. Interested in buying his wardrobe? Malcom won't be needing it anymore." That did it, I realized. Beads of sweat started to dot Lothar's brow, and he laughed nervously. He was willing to play games with any life save his own. And as I'd hoped, he was still completely out of touch with the outside world. Lord Malcom died all right--choked to death on a piece of gristle.

"Come, come, Xena," Lothar said as he mopped his sweating brow with his napkin, "we can talk business after dinner." Looking for more comfortable conversation, he swept his hungry eyes over Gabrielle's kneeling form. "I'm impressed, Xena. I see you learned a thing or two in your visits here." I took another sip of his wine to avoid laughing in his face. My knowledge of women preceded my visits to his kingdom by a number of years. When his wine servant returned, he spoke harshly to her. "You, escort Xena's property back to the kitchen."

Gabrielle looked at me, the uncertainty clear to my eyes alone. "Go," I said, hoping she heard the gentleness in my voice that my expression could ill afford.

"I don't suppose you'd like to wager her in a dice game?" the king offered as Gabrielle left

I joined him in watching her retreating form, strong legs graceful in their movements. "Do you have anything to offer that could compare?" I asked, knowing in my heart that the answer was no.

"Perhaps," he said thoughtfully as he returned to his food.

Moments later Gabrielle returned from the kitchen with a goblet of wine for me. I tasted it experimentally and was impressed with her selection: strong, but with a surprisingly smooth taste. Once I had my wine, she retreated to the kitchen again, and I absently considered that had Gabrielle ever truly been a slave, I would have paid a king's ransom to have her.

I resumed my small talk with Lothar. I commented on battles I'd not fought recently, victories I didn't celebrate, and any number of other lies. He ate it up. The more sordid the tale, the more he liked it. Several other guests listened attentively, also reveling in the deception. As the evening progressed I felt more and more like the warlord I was pretending to be, the warlord I once was. Gabrielle arrived with roasted pheasant, setting the plate before me and kneeling gracefully. Once I prepared to eat, I considered my options. I could feed Gabrielle on a plate, which would appear soft; I could toss her food on the floor, which would be unkind; or I could be completely self-indulgent and feed her by hand. I chose the later. From the first bite she knew what I expected and she didn't disappoint.

My heart beat faster as Gabrielle's lips brushed against my fingers time and again. Searching for something to quench the fire of my lust, I drank steadily. Perhaps, I considered, if I drank enough I'd be able to pass out when the evening was over and thus prevent making a big mistake with my best friend. I shared my wine with Gabrielle, careful not to let her drink too much. She needed her wits about her, while the role I wascurrently playing was essentially witless. As I held the goblet for her to drink, small amounts of wine ran down her chin and neck, droplets coming to rest between soft breasts. There would never be a more elegant vessel for the blood of grapes, and I longed to taste its sweetness from Gabrielle's body.

Lothar and I continued to talk, although truth be told, I've no idea what he said. My face looked at him, nodded and commented on his words, but my attention and every other awareness were riveted solidly on the woman by my side. I allowed myself many indulgences during that meal. I freely touched her silken hair, delighting in the soft texture against my fingers. I stroked her back, feeling her muscles bunch and relax against my hand. I paid attention to her breathing, noting that the more contact her lips made with my fingers, the shallower her breathing became. That, coupled with frequent caresses, had her almost panting. I was really beginning to wonder about the effect I clearly seemed to be having on her. It was becoming entirely possible that a desire burned within my friend that pulsed in tandem with my own.

As the nobles finished their meals, the next phase of the evening

began. One by one slaves were positioned to service their owners in any

number of intimate ways. Gabrielle had been warned and her education was

about to begin.

"Dessert, Princess?" she asked, her voice taking on a slightly

sensuous edge.

I made sure she saw me look around the hall, pointing with my eyes to what was going on. She might think I was kidding as my eyes challenged her. Was she ready to go on to the next step? "Something to eat, for now," I said, letting her know that her intimate reprieve was temporary. I laughed to myself as she nearly bolted for the kitchen.

She returned with one of my favorites, strawberries bathed in chocolate. When she began to kneel, I stopped her. "Stand behind me," I said gently. "Serve me."

Gabrielle took her position, and I leaned back delighting in her warmth. She reached for a strawberry, providing an elegant length of arm to touch. I drew my finger slowly up the outside of her arm as I bit into the strawberry. When I took my second bite, I made sure my lips brushed her fingertips. I smiled inwardly at the shudder that went through her body. She'd felt that all right, and she couldn't help but respond.

I'd almost forgotten about Lothar--so great was my enjoyment of dessert--when the bastard called for entertainment. A couple of owners volunteered their slaves and the show began. The binding table was brought to the area inside the square made by the long dining tables up on the dais that dominated the dining hall. One man was tied down to it and another man made sport of him. Not really interested in the show before me, I watched Gabrielle in the periphery of my vision. I only had to turn slightly to get an unobserved glimpse of her. Her eyes were riveted on the scene of domination and submission taking place before her. Her expression was far from appalled. In fact, she looked rather interested. When I saw her unconsciously moisten her lips with her tongue, I smiled. Not only was she getting an education, my bard was a quick study. So absorbed was she in the show that she forgot to reach for another strawberry. I didn't mind; it gave me the opportunity to simply enjoy the chocolate on her fingertips. At the feel of my tongue circling her flesh, she turned her attention back to me. I continued my assault slowly, keeping her attention right where I wanted it.

Unfortunately Lothar had also given me his complete attention. "Perhaps you would offer yours for some entertainment this evening?" he asked hopefully.

I held Gabrielle's hand steady as I looked at him, then deliberately pulled her fingers into my mouth, drawing them in and out several times as I sucked. There was no hiding his physical response. "No," I answered when I finally released her hand, much to his disappointment.

"Oh, come now, Xena. You've never been shy about this before," Lothar challenged.

"I'm not shy," I countered with a smile, "just greedy."

No doubt that got Gabrielle's attention. Quickly she gathered up my dishes and headed for the kitchen. I was certain of it now--Gabrielle had enjoyed what I was doing, so much so that it scared her.

"Come, Xena," Lothar continued. "You ask a lot of me. You expect me to leave Kaltor alone, yet you won't entertain me or provide entertainment through your slave."

So that was his price, I realized. "I entertain you," I said carefully, "and you back off of Kaltor's lands for good?"

He laughed. "Oh, come now, Xena. Do you really think you're that entertaining? Maybe you and your slave, but that remains to be seen..."

I made a pretense of considering his words. "Maybe," I finally allowed. Something wasn't right. I'd been more or less timing Gabrielle's visits to the kitchen all evening. She should have returned already. I looked over to the kitchen entrance, noting several slaves hurrying out in a panic. Something was wrong.

"What's going on in your kitchen?" I growled to Lothar as I got up

from the table, throwing my napkin down in the process. The two of us made

it to the doorway in time to hear Arleia taunting my best friend.

"You might belong to Xena," she said with a sneer, "but you're no

different than any other slave."

"I disagree with that," I growled from my vantage point in the doorway, mad as Tartarus at the scene. Gabrielle was tied up to the support beam in the kitchen, her arms bound over her head, legs bound to the floor, her muscular abdomen covered by several nasty whip welts. She was bleeding.

"What's going on here?" Lothar demanded from behind me.

"This slag attacked my slave, Your Majesty," Arleia replied with bravado. "I was reprimanding her." In moments I was across the kitchen, towering over the bitch, wrenching the whip from her puny hand.

"So you drew blood?" I demanded, inspecting Gabrielle's injuries.

"I didn't realize her skin was so thin," Arleia offered lamely, still trying to taunt me.

Focusing my attention on important things first,I reached up and unhooked Gabrielle's wrists from the chain that bound them. Gently as I could I lowered each arm to her side, wanting so badly to caress the sore flesh with my lips. Offering what comfort I could, I gazed into Gabrielle's face for a few moments before freeing her feet. Assured that she was essentially fine, I turned my attention and anger to where it belonged--to Arleia.

"Her skin is thin because she'd never been touched by a whip before," I said, dangerously. "Unscarred Amazon stock, and you took it upon yourself to whip her until she bled."

Just then Gabrielle leaned forward, resting her head against my chest. At that moment I almost lost all pretense of acting the warlord. With every fiber of my being, I fought the desire to sweep her into my arms. I almost didn't hear Arleia's admission.

"It was an accident."

"Xena, I am truly sorry for the deplorable behavior of one of my subjects," Lothar said in a soothing tone. "By all means, you're entitled to whatever retribution you feel you deserve."

As much as I hated to, I gently moved Gabrielle away from me. Now I had the leverage I needed. Lothar would get his entertainment, Kaltor would get his kingdom, and maybe, just maybe, Gabrielle would be spared any further disillusionment.

I looked at Arleia, then at her slave. "You damaged my property; I'll damage yours," I said reasonably. I turned to Lothar. "Have her tied to the table." He signaled for several slaves to carry out the demand. Not needing to worry about it for now, I turned to another slave. "Get me whip salve, now!"

"Xena, I'm fine," Gabrielle whispered.

I was putting the healing salve on her bleeding torso. It would form a protective barrier if allowed to dry uncovered. She'd be safe from infection and scarring. "Oh, yeah?" I said, showing her the blood on my fingers.

"Please don't hurt that slave," she whispered, with a glance out the door.

The warlord firmly in place, I steeled myself for what I was about to do. "Oh, I'm not going to hurt her, Gabrielle," I assured my friend. "I'm going to ruin her." With a look that forbade any further comment, I headed back to the dining hall. Gabrielle followed behind.

I held my chair for her to sit and she complied. Arleia's slave was in position, so before taking revenge, I took one more look at Gabrielle's welts to make sure they were completely covered.

"What is your name, slave?" I demanded, circling the woman bound to the low table. Not surprisingly, she didn't reply. "I see," I continued, tracing my finger down the woman's left arm. Letting her think about the touch she'd just received, I paused to remove my sword and chakram. After depositing them on the dining table, I removed my cape. Gabrielle stared, eyes wide. With a thin smile I turned away from my friend back to the slave. "Don't feel like talking?" I asked. "No matter. It isn't your conversational skills that interest me."

"You could call her Gabrielle," Frena suggested from a side table. Oh, now there was an idea. I looked at Frena, the slave, then finally at Gabrielle. For months I'd wanted to say that name at the height of passion. Now it seemed I'd get my chance.

"Yes, yes, I could. Very well then, Gabrielle," I said, looking carefully at my bard as I said it. She trembled visibly; maybe this little presentation would do something for her, too. "Your owner ruined my property," I continued. "So I'm going to ruin hers. Do you know how I intend to do that?" I asked, carefully running my hands over the woman's body. "I'm about to see to it that you never look at your owner, or anyone else, the same way again. When Arleia demands your services in the night, you'll wish it was me. Every touch you feel, every sensation you experience, you'll wish it could be me. When you look at her, it will be my face you see in your mind's eye, and she won't be able to do a thing about it."

The slave's eyes went wide as she realized the stories she'd heard about me were true. I was a good lover for the same reason I was an invincible warlord: I paid attention, attention to a thousand tiny details that most people found insignificant. That, and I'd practiced a lot.

Casually I removed the slave's clothing. Already I could tell her arms were more sensitive than her legs, and her collarbone was especially responsive. I ordered her to look at me--to witness the power that would subdue her--but she turned her head, determined to fight. One tug to the chain linking her nipple rings and I had her undivided attention. Ready to get this over with, I leaned forward, capturing struggling lips. She tried to turn away but wasn't strong enough. I teased her lower lip before forcing entry into her mouth. With one hand gripping the back of her neck and the other tracing her collarbone as my tongue moved inside her mouth, she stopped fighting. Well, stopped fighting against me at any rate. She wasn't begging yet, and simply put, I wanted her to. I continued to assault her mouth, face and neck with kisses, trailing my tongue where she was most sensitive, nipping in places with my teeth where she was not.

She groaned as I drew my hand up the side of her breast, and it seemed she was ready. I tested her center with my fingers, discovering she was wetter than I'd imagined she would be. "You're ready now, aren't you,

Gabrielle?" I asked slipping the wet finger in my mouth. "Too bad I'm not," I taunted as I touched her again. "Maybe you'd like to encourage me?"

The slave's hips jerked as she panted, "Yes, please."

"Sorry?" I asked, for the benefit of the room. "I didn't quite catch that."

"Please," she said clearly, "finish it. I'm yours."

"Really?" I wondered aloud, "I thought you belonged to Arleia?"

"Please," she pleaded again.

I strolled around the table again. A glance at Lothar told me he was more than enjoying his little entertainment; Arleia looked like she wanted to disappear; and Gabrielle looked like she wanted to flee and join in at the same time. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes wide. Wanting to end little game, I selected a leather phallus from the basket below the table. After strapping it on, I leaned over the squirming woman and held her hips down. I was running this show and made that fact painfully clear.

Giving her only a little at a time, I prolonged my entry, a fact that drove her as crazy as I suspected it would. When I withdrew the phallus, she groaned in despair. "You like that don't you, Gabrielle?" I asked, envisioning my bard writhing beneath my hands.

"Yes!" she panted.

"You want more?" I demanded

"Gods, yes please," she panted again.

I pressed forward, more smoothly this time, but quickly pulled back. Slowly I built up a rhythm as her pants became urgent and needful. Then I slowed deliberately, making her frantic with disappointment. Tired and bored with this conquest, it was time to finish it off. I leaned over, taking the slave's nipple ring in my mouth, and clamped down with my lips as my thigh thrust forcefully forward. The slave cried out, then sobbed uncontrollably as I extracted myself from her body and stood. I took the strap off, dropping it back in the basket, and turned my back indifferently on the bound woman. With a meaningful glance to Gabrielle, I picked up my wine and drank.

"That was exquisite," Lothar beamed.

"I think we were going to discuss Kaltor's territories?" I said as I put my cape and weapons back on.

"Of course, of course," Lothar said hurriedly. "Stay tonight--your usual room is ready for you--and I'll have a new treaty drawn up by morning. One thing can be said about you, Xena--you mean what you say. I do believe you've ruined Gabrielle for anyone else."

I smiled, although I didn't really care about Arleia or her slave. Still, a point needed to be made, so I made it. "The next person to lay a hand, whip or anything else on my property, dies," I promised the room at large."Now, if you'll excuse me, Your Majesty," I continued, returning my attention to Lothar once again, "I'd like to retire for the evening."

"But Xena," he pleaded, "the evening is just getting started."

"Yes, well, were I not required to make some repairs to my property, maybe I'd stay. As it is, I've had enough." The excuse was plausible if nothing else. My blood was boiling with rage, power and lust. It was clear to me that five minutes more in this environment would have me doing the real Gabrielle strapped to a table, whip welts or no whip welts.

I nodded for her to stand, then instantly felt horrible as I saw her wince. The gel had hardened, and her movements made it tug painfully against her wounds. Moving to her side, I gently lifted her into my arms. Forcing myself not to sigh at the blissful closeness, I decided to taunt Arleia instead. "If this scars," I warned. "I'm going to come back and settle accounts with you. That," I continued, nodding to her slave, "was for the insult. We've not begun to settle for the damage." My piece said, I marched up the stairs, away from the dining hall.

Thankfully, my room was at the far end of the hall, well away from the sounds of revelry and sex. I ordered supplies from a nearby slave as I kicked the door open. "Bring me wine, whip salve, water and some bandages."

My room was just as I'd remembered it. The bed was large and comfy, with exquisitely soft sheets. One thing I had to give Lothar credit for, he owned the most comfortable beds I'd ever had the pleasure to enjoy. Gently I deposited my precious cargo on the soft down bedding, catching the fresh

scent of her hair as I moved.

Turning away from my friend, I reacquainted myself with the room. Everything appeared to be in order. Moments later the slave returned. I took the wine for myself and put the rest of the stuff on the dresser. As I moved, I saw myself in the mirror. How different I must seem to Gabrielle, dressed in the old armor with the old lusts coursing through my veins.

Half-heartedly I told myself that it wasn't too late, that I could finish this mission without violating the body of my best friend. A few more flagons of wine was all it would take, perhaps. Or maybe that and a sound blow to the head. Idly I wondered if Gabrielle would be disappointed to leave Lothar's kingdom with only whip-welts to show for her ordeal.

"Xena?" she asked softly, her gentle voice making me ravenous with need.

"Yes, Gabrielle," I replied. Not willing to look at her--sure the need I felt would show on my face like a beacon--I made a pretense of opening the dresser drawer. That was a mistake; I should have remembered that the top drawer was for ropes and toys.

"Xena, please. Look at me," she insisted.

I drained my wine, then poured another goblet before turning around. There she was, my heart stretched out on a soft bed before me. Her legs, torso, all supple muscle and flesh. I drank it all in like a woman dying of thirst. Finally my eyes settled on her face and my heart thudded painfully. She was close, too close, and my resolve was beginning to weaken. As if reading the hunger of my thoughts, she leaned forward and touched my arm. I moved away with what little resolve I had left.

"Don't touch me, Gabrielle. Not right now," I warned.

"What's wrong?" she asked, looking at me intently.

I took another drink from my wine goblet. "We can talk about it later, when we're well away from here," I replied. I had to think of something to do. "Those wounds need to be cleaned," I said, deciding that focusing on one part of her body might keep me from ravaging all of it. My decision made, I turned back to the dresser and filled a bowl with water. If I removed the caked salve and replied some fresh, then wrapped her wounds, she'd have the benefits of the healing ointment without the painful cracking.

"I'm thirsty," she announced as I prepared a bandage to remove the old ointment.

I handed her my goblet, mesmerized by her mouth as she drank. Her lips were so full and inviting. Setting the goblet down, she laid back, inviting me with her body. I gritted my teeth. I could do this, I assured myself. It was Gabrielle, my best friend, after all. A little more selfcontrol and I'd get through this. Perhaps she'd even decide to sleep, giving me the opportunity to satiate my lust, either alone or with some other slave. My course of action decided, I squeezed some excess water from the soaked bandage and touched it to my friend's flesh. She grabbed my arm this time, her strong fingers digging into my flesh. I came dangerously close to losing it right then.

"Gabrielle, I'm not kidding," I warned her through gritted teeth. "Don't touch me. It isn't safe."

"But it hurts," she protested.

Gods, didn't she see how close I was, what kind of hold she had on me? "You're going to hurt a lot worse if you keep touching me," I mumbled to myself.

Her next words hit me like a bolt of lightning. "So tie me down," she whispered. I stared at her to assure myself that I'd heard her correctly and that she knew exactly what she was suggesting. She shrugged once. "You have to clean it, it hurts, I can't keep from flinching, and you won't let me touch you."

There was no way she could mean it, yet here she was inviting me to take her. "Gabrielle," I warned, giving her a final out. "You don't know what you're--"

"I know exactly what I'm suggesting, Xena," she said, cutting me off. "My question is what will you do about it?" So my friend had made her decision. She had chosen me, a warlord. I turned my back to her, wondering if I could indeed go through with it. A smile eased across my face. I opened the dresser drawer and withdrew some rope. I decided I could. I turned my attention back to my bard and soon-to-be lover. I measured a length of rope and proceeded to tie her ankle to the bed post.

"What...what are you doing?" she asked, sounding frightened as I tied the first knot. If she'd been bluffing, she was in for a rude awakening.

"I'm giving you what you want, Gabrielle," I answered as I worked "And what I want. After all, it was your suggestion."

"Xena, I'm scared." The whispered words reached my ears as I finished binding her other leg.

I glanced at her, letting her enjoy the adrenalin I knew would be pumping through her veins. "You should be," I said. Taking my time as I moved around to the other side of the bed, I gazed at Gabrielle for a moment before looking pointedly at her top. After a moment's debate, I decided not to rip it from her body. "Take that off," I said. "You won't be needing it."

Gabrielle's hands shook as she struggled with the laces, but she managed to shrug it off and handed it to me. Oh, I was enjoying this too much. Bringing the garment to my face, I inhaled the scent of my bard's skin before tossing it aside. I secured one of her wrists to the bedpost, carefully wrapping the rope around her wrist and hand, as well as through the ring on the binding. Once one arm was secured, I moved to the other side of the bed and repeated the procedure. Finished, I headed back to the dresser.

I removed my sword and chakram, putting them on the trunk at the foot of the bed. My cape came next, followed by the rest of my armor. Seeing Gabrielle's eyes studying my every movement, I leaned forward slightly as I removed my boots. I finished with the removal of my bracers until I was dressed only in my leathers. Returning to the bed, I climbed up and straddled Gabrielle's hips. She gasped, then relaxed, realizing that the hard salve on her abdomen protected her from the leather of my skirt brushing against her skin. When I leaned forward to attach her collar to the headboard, she leaned forward into me. I sighed as I felt her face press beneath my breasts. This was going to be so good. Drawing a slow hand up her bare back, stopping at the collar, I tied a length of rope between the ring on the collar and the one in the headboard, then leaned back.

Returning to the dresser, I picked up the bowl and bandage once again. I sat next to her and slowly, carefully washed the welts. The crusted salve came away cleanly and the welts looked good. I doubted there would be a scar. In fact, I suspected most traces of the encounter would be gone within a week. When I finished cleaning, I scooped a liberal amount of the healing salve on my fingers and reapplied it carefully to the tender skin. There were painkillers in the ointment, and I felt confident that in moments Gabrielle would be totally unaware of any discomfort. As soon as I finished applying the salve, I carefully wrapped a bandage around her middle. That would keep the ointment moist and limber.

I was inspecting my work when Gabrielle whispered, "Xena, what are you going to do?"

I looked at her and smiled, brushing my fingers across her cheek. "Everything," was my whispered reply. Returning my attention to my bard's body, I eased my fingers beneath the band of her skirt. Once I removed it, I let my hands wander, delighting in the feel of skin I'd so often fantasized about. Her breasts were firm yet soft, with nipples that instantly contracted at my touch. She gasped as I teased her, and I hoped I'd be able to draw a number of pleasured sounds from those perfect lips.

I leaned in close. "You are so beautiful, Gabrielle," I whispered near her ear. "Bringing you here was a mistake. I've wanted you for so long. I knew that restraint with you here would be next to impossible." A little surprised at my own admission, she responded to the truth of my words, perhaps echoing truths known only to her own heart. "Your lips are so soft," I continued, brushing my fingers against those perfect lips. "Feeding you tonight was wonderful."

"So kiss me," she whispered.

At that moment I realized that she was in control here. I was helpless to do anything but fulfill her every desire. I moved in slowly, not wanting the moment to pass too quickly. She reached up to meet me but was stopped by the restraints. When the wait was finally over and my lips brushed against hers, it was incredible. Her lips were soft--soft and welcoming and very responsive. I took it as slowly as I could, imprinting every new sensation on my memory. I drew my hands to the side of her face and neck, supporting her weight so she didn't have to fight against her bindings. When my tongue asked for entrance into the warm confines of her mouth, she moved against me again, welcoming me. Never before had a simple kiss effected me so. I salivated and my heart beat furiously at the thought that my bard's body would be this responsive everywhere. We continued to kiss, both enjoying the perfection of it for long moments. With each passing second her confidence grew and before long her tongue was at my lips, demanding entry. Gabrielle's kiss was exquisite, satisfying and intensifying my need at the same time.

"You are so sweet," I murmured when I broke for air.

"Please, Xena, more," she begged.

"What is it you desire, Gabrielle?" I asked, helpless to refuse her. "I will do anything you want."

With a nervous swallow she told me her heart's desire. "The slave," she whispered. "What you did to her."

She didn't look at me, so I drew her face up to mine. With my eyes I told her she would have her heart's desire. "I will do much more for you than that, my love," I said.

I got up again, and moving a short distance away from the bed, I shrugged out of what remained of my clothing. I stepped out of my leathers and watched Gabrielle look at me, her eyes hungry. Unable to restrain myself any longer, I let go. It may have been the wine, or the desires of my deepest heart, but I needed to have her now. And take her I did. Returning to the bed, I claimed hungry lips, making them my own. Gabrielle encouraged my abandon with her responses and the small sounds that escaped her throat. My hands and lips were everywhere, tasting her flesh, delighting in every sensation. I worked my way down her neck to her shoulders, then lower, finally claiming her breasts with my mouth.

It was hard to believe it was really happening, the perfection of the experience so intense. Carefully I removed the fake rings around each nipple, then brought each to a stiff peak with my teeth and tongue. She gasped and moaned, fanning the fire of my desire. I started at her neck, trailing feather light touches down her body, watching the muscles quiver and tremble beneath my fingers. Taking my time I finally reached her center and placed a slow gentle caress there. I was pleased at my discovery. "You're soaked, Gabrielle," I said.

"Yes," she gasped, offering me her body with a tremble of her hips.

Putting my soaked fingers in my mouth, I smiled at my first taste of Gabrielle. Gods, she was wonderful. Already she had surpassed my fantasies. "You taste good," I told her, reaching for another taste. "I want more."

"Then take it," my friend groaned. "Anything you want..."

Oh, I'd take it all right. Still, I wanted her to know the rules. "You won't be a virgin when I'm done, Gabrielle," I explained, watching her carefully for any signs of second thoughts.

"Xena, please!" she begged, struggling against the restraints that held her secure.

I moved between her legs and teased my hands up her thighs. She squirmed in delight, shaking in anticipation. Slowly, deliberately, I opened her up and lowered my mouth to her glistening entrance.

"Gods, Xena, yessssss," she moaned low in her throat as I lapped at her sweetness. She was more responsive than I'd dared hoped, reacting to every touch and stroke with passion. I took my time, enjoying myself completely, learning all the secrets of her body. There was such depth to Gabrielle, so many subtly different responses my ardent caress evoked. I let her fire build slowly, not giving her too much of anything at once. As I experimented and played, her body gradually became more demanding, insistent in its need. Deciding she'd waited long enough, I focused my attention on the bundle of nerves at her center as I drove her higher with my assault. Tension built steadily as she began to shake. Finally she released with a powerful cry, then sobbed openly.

"Gods, you're good," I told her, removing my soaked face from her center. "I could do that all night." It was no lie. I'd just developed an insatiable appetite for her. Still, there would be time for more of that later. For now it was time to finish her education. I returned to the dresser and extracted a leather phallus. Gabrielle stared at the object nervously.

"Xena, um... will it hurt?" she asked.

After the whipping she'd received, she was worried about this? "It's only pain, Gabrielle," I replied with a grin. "I don't think you'll mind too much. I'll stop if I have to, but I don't think you're going to want me to stop." I held the phallus near her hand. "Touch it," I said. She opened her hand and held out her fingers. I moved the leather back and forth as I saw a smile ease across her face. She was ready for anything; she trusted me.

I leaned back against one of the posts and guided the leather into my own body. "It doesn't hurt," I explained, as the pleasurable sensations coursed through my being. I pushed it in again, then realized I'd have to stop. It was Gabrielle's pleasure that was paramount at this point. Any more of this and my own need would take over. "See," I said, showing her the leather slick with moisture. "It's better when it's wet."

I strapped the toy to my thigh, then leaned over my love. I touched her, making sure she was good and ready. When she was close to another orgasm, I moved in, teasing her opening with the leather. She tried to move forward, but I backed off. Holding her eyes with mine, I pushed in again. This time she opened her mouth a little, but let me do the work. I continued like that, taking my time, enjoying every nuance of our passion. When it seemed she could stand no more, I pushed forward fully, claiming her mouth with my own.

I swallowed Gabrielle's cries along with her kisses as her virginity was made a memory. She was magnificent. I rode her for awhile, sensing another climax. Deciding she might like to be in the driver's seat, I withdrew from her completely.

"Noooo," she groaned in protest.

"Relax," I assured her. "I'm not done yet." Reaching into my discarded clothes pile on the floor, I extracted the key to her bindings. I released her ankles, and neck, making sure the shackles hadn't bit into her skin. When I finished with that task, I then repositioned the ropes that held her arms above her head. I tied her arms up at shoulder level, so that while on her knees she'd have room to maneuver.

Unable to resist, I ducked my head below her thighs, tasting her sweetness once again. She panted in excitement, her body thrusting against my face. Repositioning myself once again, I moved so she could lower herself onto the leather strapped to my thigh. She smiled a slow sexy smile as she moved, gazing into my eyes with radiant hunger. She moved her body up and down in an easy sensuous motion, enjoying the ride, pleasured beyond words. I caressed her body as she moved, my hands finally coming to rest on her breasts. She moved faster as I fondled her, her hips shaking almost out of control.

With another mighty cry she slumped forward, breathing heavily. I unlocked the shackles at her wrists and neck as her body collapsed against mine. She was spent, drained and utterly happy, and I felt my heart beat joyously in response. She sobbed for a few moments, just letting all the feelings reverberate through her. When her breathing slowed, she traced my damp cheek with her finger.

"You own me," she whispered, placing a tender kiss on my lips.

I shook my head emphatically. "No, Gabrielle, I love you." To this day I don't think truer words have ever been spoken.

She smiled at that, then nodded in agreement. "I love you, Xena,"

Fighting back tears that threatened to fall from my own eyes, I held her close. Never wanting to let her go, even for an instant, I carefully pulled down the bed covers. Without letting her go, I snuggled us underneath the warm blankets. It was hours before I drifted off to sleep, so amazed was I at the treasure nestled in my arms. Gabrielle loved me, the same kind of love that I had for her. In spite of it all, my past and everything else, Gabrielle loved me. She shifted a couple of times in her sleep, making slight adjustments to get more comfortable. For the most part she slept on top of me, her head resting on my breast, her warm breath caressing my skin. When I finally drifted off to sleep, it was with a huge grin etched into my face. What dream could sleep possibly offer that could dare compare with what slept peacefully in my arms.

When I woke several hours later, it was to a soft caress at my nipple. "Gabrielle?" I asked groggily, blinking a couple of times.

"Yes, Princess?" she purred.

My mind reeled as my vivid dreams warred with my surroundings. The bedroom, the shackles, our naked bodies... it seemed I had in fact not been dreaming. "Gods...I...I..." I stammered.

"Verrrrrry well," she said, a sensuous edge to her voice as her hands wandered over my body. I could feel myself blushing as my body instantly responded to her touch. I wasn't numb from the wine, although I would have liked to have been. If I had done all the things I dreamt...

"Gabrielle," I said in a rush, as much for my benefit as hers, "I'm so sorry... I never would have..."

"What?" she demanded indignant, "made love to me if you weren't drunk. Is that what you're saying?" Her voice began to rise in volume, anger and fear tugging at its edges. "You only did it because you had too much to drink?" She was ready to bolt from the bed, so I hung on to her for dear life.

"No!" I insisted, forcing her to look at me. "I never would have tied you up for your first time if I hadn't been completely drunk. Gabrielle, of all the times I've imagined making love to you, all the different ways I pictured it, you tied to the bed was not one of them. Gods! I could have hurt you!" I still couldn't believe I'd actually done it. Hades, what had I been thinking?

She smiled at me, a warm inviting smile. This Gabrielle had indeed received an education. She could play me like dice. She touched my face gently. "You would never hurt me, Xena. No matter how drunk or warlord-like you are at the time. As for my first time being like this, I've no complaints." She smiled as her hands continued their assault, growing more bold with each intimate caress. "Now," she continued, "why don't we finish your business in this creepy little kingdom and go somewhere nice and secluded where I can tie you up."

I laughed at that. This was an educated Gabrielle, indeed. Still, I was who I was and unfortunately not capable of that type of submission. I touched her cheek with the back of my hand. "I'm all for getting out of here, but I do not get tied up--ever!"

"We shall see, Princess," she replied thoughtfully. "We shall see."

As she continued her loving assault, I had to admit that if anyone were able to shackle me to a bed, it would be Gabrielle. My only prayer, I realized, would be to keep her adequately distracted... for eternity.

The End.

Back to main page

1