Chapter 3 is nearly finished, and steamier than this one. You should have it in a day or two. Enjoy!
Sabine watched warily as Roland got up and walked to a nearby trunk. He leaned over it for a while, catching his breath, and then opened the lid and rummaged through it. He soon found what he needed, a small jar and his spare sword belt, a double length of thick leather linked by steel rings, with attachments for his scabbard and dagger.
When he turned back to her, Sabine made a desperate attempt to creep away. Gone was the blasé yet attentive courtier. His brows were drawn together, his jaw set, his eyes cold and focused. On her.
She swallowed hard, and summoned her anger to get a hold of her rising terror. He had betrayed his promises; he was no better than her tormentors. It was only natural that she tried to defend herself. He had no right to touch her.
Roland cracked the end of the belt against his boot. The whimper was out before she could block it, and she shrank away from him. Suddenly, she was back in her castle, surrounded by cruel mercenaries. They made a game of whipping her, betting on how loud her next scream would be. Her voice had deserted her, every inch of her body burning in excruciating pain...
"Eyes on me, Sabine, do not close them!"
She shook her head. She'd rather not see the blows coming.
"Last warning, Sabine, look at me. You would be wise not to challenge me." His tone was stern but calm.
She peeked through her lashes. He was crouching in front of her, the strap of leather folded in his hand.
"Do you really think I would flay you?"
She cleared her throat and held his gaze. "What else would I think? That's what men do when they wield these, isn't it?"
"Men without honor, certainly. I gave you my word that I wouldn't hurt you. You, however, broke our agreement. You were not to fight me."
She was outraged. "I never agreed to anything but to avoid public humiliation. And you only mentioned undressing me. You are no better than those men, you tried to trick me into giving in to you."
Roland's bellow resonated in the room. He purposely appraised her naked body, allowing his gaze to linger on her long legs, honey colored curls, and round breasts. She was a little too slim for his taste, accustomed as he was to the curvaceous ladies of the court but she had a good handful of what he likes, where he liked it. Her ivory skin, marred by a few fresh bruises –no doubt due to her resisting arrest- was clean and fresh-smelling, a light scent of moss and wild flowers. Roland was delighted; as a child, he had followed his father in exotic countries, and had acquired the local taste for frequent bathing. Even after several years of service in the King's Chambers, he still noticed the stench of unwashed bodies under the strong perfumes the courtiers used to cover it. The Louvre itself reeked of human waste as most of his occupants used the many room corners as impromptu latrines.
Overall, she was acceptable. And stronger than her lithe form would predict, as he had had the displeasure to find out. He reminded himself of the reason she was there. She was a rebel, and a criminal. She had killed two tax collectors in cold blood. He had made the mistake of being courteous and compassionate, in regard of her gender and circumstances. She had proven him wrong. She wasn't a fragile damsel in distress and deserved no courtesy. The King would be there soon. Roland had to break her spirit, trick her to confess so that they could catch her accomplices. And he knew exactly how to do that, without using methods Louis would disavow.
So he put a blank mask on his face and answered: "Do not flatter yourself. You are pretty, I will give you that, but you wouldn't meet the needed standards to share my bed. Not quite voluptuous enough, and if I may say, rather plain."
Sabine's cheeks flushed bright red. He had some nerve, talking to her like this! Was he really implying that she would be interested in seducing him, of all the available males in the country? The conceited bastard! "Thank God Almighty for that! You certainly don't meet MY standards..." She regretted her words as soon as they left her lips. Too late. He had heard them.
"Is that so? Tell me, Sabine, what does it take for these shapely thighs to spread? What is it that your lovers have and I don't?"
Her blush was now reaching her collarbone and showing no sign of stopping. "I do not..." Her throat tightened and she jolted when his fingers brushed the side of her breast. "I forbid you!"
"There is nothing you can forbid me, my sweet. You are, totally and utterly, at my mercy. And you haven't answered my question..."
Another caress, tracing a slow line along her neck. She twisted wildly, to no avail.
"Your answer, I'm waiting..."
"I don't have lovers!"
Roland retracted his hand with a sly smile. "It's a pity, really. You don't know what you are missing. Or maybe you do?" He cocked an eyebrow.
She glared at him. She could still feel the path of his knuckles as a tingling line on her skin.
"Very well. Let's go back to business then. I'm expecting an apology for your earlier behavior. So..."
Sabine was fuming. "It is you who should apologize. I do not regret kicking you. You deserved it. I only wish I could have hit harder."
"I was hoping you would say that. Without it I would have felt bad implementing your punishment." He gently rolled her to her side, her back to him.
"Wait, what punishment? What are you going to do to me?" Sabine attempted to roll back but he positioned his knee to stop her. She couldn't see what he was doing and it was driving her mad.
"You'll understand soon enough." He dug through her clothes and looped one end of the belt over the binds holding her wrists, and then used the other end for her ankles.
Only then did Sabine understand what was happening. She struggled to free her legs, but he was stronger and had no trouble closing the buckle. He tightened it until he was satisfied with her position and stood up.
"It works with untamed fillies, stops them from bucking. It looks good on you," he said, lifting the rolled pallets that his servants slept on. He threw one on the ground along the closest wall, and spread the other in a vertical position, creating a floor level sofa.
Sabine could only hear and wonder what he was preparing. Nothing good, for sure. Her heart was racing and unshed tears threatened to spill.
"Punishment, Sabine, is an art. It must be harsh enough so as to deter the subject from repeating their mistake, and lenient enough that the subject would be grateful and understand you are teaching them a useful lesson. In order to achieve this delicate balance, you must know the subject well. What they desire, what they fear."
Satisfied with his arrangements, he scooped her in his arms and deposited her on the first pallet.
She shuddered at his contact, yet didn't fight. Tied as she was, it would just tire her. There was no getting out of this. She waited with baited breath as he sat comfortably, legs extended, the second pallet padding the wall behind his back. He arranged the blanket over his breeches and placed a small jar at his side. Then he grabbed her and pulled her into his lap.
Sabine squealed at the sudden and unexpected movement. She had found herself humiliated before, but this was one very large step farther. She was spread on her side facing him, her knees wrapped around his waist, naked and unable to move. She was so close that she could feel his heat, smell the lavender flowers his clothing must have been folded with. Indecently close.
Roland took advantage of her shocked state to pry her knees open and bunch her breeches and undergarments between them, giving him free access to the treasures between those smooth limbs.
She jolted as if stung by a bee. "Whatever it is you are planning, don't!"
"Once more, my dear, you have no say in the matter." The back of his hand trailed on her exposed side, from the tip of her shoulder to the hollow of her thin waist.
"You said I didn't meet your standards!" Sabine was clutching at straws. She had to stop this. Stop him. This was the worst thing that had been done to her. The beatings, the rapes, it was different. Awful. Excruciating. But at least she knew what to expect. Here, she had no idea. There was no pain, no brutality, and yet it was torture. And this position was so...
Outrageous.
Restrictive.
Intimate.
"You still don't."
Sabine threw her head forward, teeth snapping a hair away from his sleeve. Missed. Although she had no clue what good it would have done had she succeeded. She had acted on instinct.
"Tsk, tsk. I am so disappointed with you. Shall I gag you with my handkerchief or will you cease these childish attempts at harming me?" His voice was dead serious. He would not hesitate to deliver on his threat.
"No, there is no need." The idea of losing her ability to speak was overwhelming. Her sanity might desert her. There was a limit to what she could endure.