Learning to Serve

 

Living with a man can sometimes be difficult, even in a very large apartment. This one was something like eight thousands square feet, so you'd think that would give me some space. Living with other people is a matter of compromise. The problem was the people I were living with didn't really understand that concept very well.

Colin Forrest, else-wise known as Lord Elander, a thousand year old Norse king, and, oh-by-the-way, also a vampire, which was how he got to still be alive after a thousand years, certainly didn't have much use for compromise, especially not with a lowly slave girl.

I'd gotten to be a slave girl simply because he liked what he saw and decided to take it. Given the scalding heat I'd been subjected to I certainly wasn't in a position to object. But during a rough kiss I'd somehow cut him, and tasted his blood. That had changed everything. Now we were psychically linked. Which meant he other killed me or he kept me around.

The drawback to that was that I had to take orders like a, well, a serf, if you will. Then again, as a very junior lawyer at Carnegie and Rothstein I'd had to do the same. And I hadn't gotten fabulous, mind blowing orgasms in exchange.

In fact, my sex life had been largely non-existent given the ten hour work days, and I'd had more scalding, incredible orgasms in one day with Elander than I had in the last several years combined. Not only were they greater in number they were immensely more powerful. That little bit of blood of his had made changes in my body.

My nervous system was more powerful. My senses, including touch, were much more sensitive. So was my autoimmune system. I would, according to Tariq, never get another cold, and would never age. Those were the other benefits, well, along with living in a fabulous penthouse in Manhattan.

Pretty good deal, you might think. Fabulous orgasms and riches in exchange for no job? And I'll add in that Elander is an incredibly good looking guy, tall, with the broad shoulders and barrel chest of the Viking warrior he'd once been. He had a square jawed face framed by shoulder length reddish blonde hair, and these incredibly deep gray eyes.

So what was the problem? Well, it's that slave girl thing. I was, to him, a peasant girl, and hardly fit for being anything else. Mind you, the difference between a peasant girl and a slave were minor, back in the day. And I suppose technically he was a king. But I wasn't raised to worship kings, much less instantly do their bidding.

And he was not an especially nice king. Or maybe he was. I've never known anyone who was an absolute ruler before. Maybe he was the nicest king around in that context. By modern standards he was an insensitive, arrogant, macho bastard who saw women as sex toys and little else.

That was, or had once been, anathema to me! I was an independent minded woman who had worked hard to claw my way out of the slums and into a law school, then get hired by an elite firm. Being reduced to a 'hot body' for him to play with was just so not on!

On the other hand, all those amazing orgasms had shifted my thinking about sex and sexuality. It used to be something I could take or leave, and mostly left. But the intensity of the pleasure - I'm not exaggerating when I term it ecstasy, made me want to have sex all the time! I was super aware of my own sexuality and sensuality, and reveled in it.

As a slave girl, I couldn't refuse him sex if he wanted it. That was outrageous! But on the other hand, such was the depths of my new-found excitement and eagerness that no matter my mood, I could simply not turn down sex! I was turning into a freaking nympho! Refusing him sex was the last thing on my mind!

I honestly don't know that I could force myself to turn down sex with anyone! That was one of the reasons I'd reluctantly accepted the idea of not going back to work. I valued my dignity and my reputation there, and had no desire to get fired for making out with a law clerk or something. I had already begun unconsciously dressing in more revealing clothes, enough to get noticed.

Now, of course, Elander would prefer I wear nothing at all, 24/7. Except his collar and shackles, of course.

Then there was Tariq. He was from old Egypt, and almost as old as Elander. He'd tried to kill the Norseman nine hundred odd years ago, and would have succeeded if Elander wasn't a being who could shrug off a spear through the belly. He'd agreed to be Elander's slave, then gradually become promoted his manservant and companion - and free.

Tariq was over seven feet tall, and while not as thick in the chest as Elander, actually had broader shoulders. He also had a cock which would suit a horse. He wasn't growly and temperamental like Elander. On the contrary, he was calm and quiet, and seemed much more even tempered. But he also had nine hundred years seniority over me, and so I pretty much had to do anything he told me too.

"This is stupid," I said.

I could say that to Tariq, without worrying it would anger him.

"Consider it exercise, like yoga," he replied in amusement.

We were in the Solar. It was a nice, calm room with white oak floors and lots of light on the west side of the penthouse. The windows, as in most of the rooms, were floor to ceiling, with no fear of being in the shade of other buildings, not seventy two floors up. I was on a plush white rug in the center of the floor, naked of course, though Tariq kept finding slutty lingerie for me to wear.

At that moment I was on my knees, my breasts crushed against the floor beneath me, and my arms straight out in front of me, hands pressed together as if I were praying. My hips were raised high, my upper legs required to be perfectly vertical, my belly tucked in close against them so that my back arched sharply. My chin was on the floor, which had my head forced sharply back.

Tariq was pacing slowly around me to ensure my position was exactly correct. He had a long, thin quirt in his hand which he didn't seem the least bit reluctant to use, either to snap it across my bottom, or to slide it in between my thighs to let it caress my clitoris - which had become startlingly sensitive since I'd ingested a tiny bit of Elander's blood