Inayah hovered by Salem’s study chambers. She wore the only other outfit she had, brown dress, scarf and boots. Her hair was slightly damp from the hurried shower she had taken, face flushed from the cold morning air.
Kade had wanted to take her out of the mansion.
She had not refused, and a slight thrill of finally leaving the boundaries surged through her. Thrill, then terror at the realization of having to tell Salem. Her master. What if he denied her of that right? What if he scoffed in her face? Better yet, what if he punished her for even tolerating the idea? She was a slave after all, and slaves do not seek the pleasures of the freed.
Still.
Kade was dressing in his room and Mathilde was banging pots and pans whilst moving about in the kitchen having nothing to do since Inayah had done it all in her moment of adrenaline-filled joy. She figured if she did all the chores before Mathilde woke then she would have no reason to interject Inayah’s proposal.
Clearing her throat, Inayah raised a timid hand and rasped tentatively on the wooden door.
“Enter.” Salem’s cool, nearly toneless voice responds.
A cold finger touches her heart. Inayah reaches for the doorknob and pushes it open. Her eyes instinctively search for the man who sits behind a large polished mahogany table. Salem wears a white silk shirt buttoned up to the throat, his silky dark hair is tied up into a sleek ponytail sharpening each greek carved feature, His head is bent over a piece of paper on which he writes with a feather ink pen.
Inayah does not realize that she had been staring for a drawn, uncomfortable moment, seemingly briefly enchanted by his moonlight cold beauty. Not until he speaks, does she snap out of her brief reverie;
“Slave,” Salem demands, “what is it?”
Inayah inhales a deep, shuddering breath, seeking shards of courage from somewhere within. “I’m sorry for disturbing you, Master Salem.”
He does not speak. She proceeds, “I hoped to ask for your permission… regarding something.”
That seems to garner Salem’s attention for his hand pauses over the paper, head angling upwards. The sun rays cast a fine shadow of gold behind his head, almost the semblance of a halo… supernatural, powerful… beastly. Salem watches her with rapt interest, nothing gives way in his expression.
“Master Kade,” Inayah begins suddenly uneased by his scrutiny, perhaps this was a bad idea, “he asked me to accompany him outside the mansion.”
The grandpa clock ticks overhead. It lumbers in the suffocating silence that grows deeper and deeper still, clutching at her throat. Salem sits regal and tall, something shifts in his expression. “Did he?”
“I-” Inayah bites her inner cheek, “yes.”
“Did he tell you where he plans on taking you?”
“No.”
“When did he ask you this?”
“Today morning,” she replies lamely, remembering how she had slipped from his sleeping embrace. “I was in the kitchen and--”
“Do you wish to go?” Salem interrupts coolly.
Inayah hesitates.
“Be truthful, Inayah.”
“Yes.” Her voice dies down to a mere whisper.
After a moment, the chair drags back. Inayah glances up as he pats his lap wordlessly. Come here.
Her heart thunders which each dreaded step in his direction, she figures slowing down would stop the process but eventually, Inayah finds herself standing before him, between his long widespread legs.
Her stare remains focused on his strong slender fingers which rest on either knees, the material of his breeches that cling to powerful limbs. It takes her a moment to realize what he wanted. Slowly, carefully, she lowers herself onto her knees. Fortunately the carpet is soft beneath her sensitive bruised skin.
“Why do you wish to go?”
The question catches her off guard and she meets his gaze briefly before averting. “Eyes on me, Inayah.” With a struggle, she drags them back up to him. The sun feels warm on her skin as their eyes close an intimate circuit.
“I was curious.” She explains.
Salem arcs an eyebrow, “Was?”
“I no longer am.” She lies. She still hoped to leave the mansion even if it was for five minutes. “Not anymore.”
His gaze fixates on her, she cannot tell if he believes her or not. “Is that so?”
Inayah nods, stomach clenching as he leans forward, elbows braced on either knee as his face hovers before hers. So close is he, she can make out the cupid bow on his upper lip, scent the woods, mint and leather on his skin and if she dared lean close enough, feel his wicked mouth on her own.
“If I allow you, will you still claim to have lost interest?” Salem inquires lowly, reaching a hand out to carefully undo the scarf around her throat and stroke her raw skin.
Her pulse leaps, “I will.”
He makes a soft sound of disapproval but says nothing more, gently holding her chin and angling her face up to his. Considering the proximity between, Inayah has a terrified wild thought that he would close the distance and dare kiss her. But he does not. The grip on her chin loosens and Salem sits back, “Sit,” he pats his lap.
Inayah inhales a measured breath, wondering what would happen. Was this punishment for her lie? Finally, she gave up and climbed awkwardly into his lap, sitting stiff and rigid as he shifted the seat back towards the table.
Inayah felt his tall frame lean forward. Despite sitting on his lap, the crown of her head only touched the base of his jaw. She feels his heartbeat against her shoulder blade, feels his hand rest on her knee, tracing odd circles while the other continues writing.
Did he expect her to sit on his lap throughout?Was this punishment?
Seconds melted to minutes and her once tensed frame settled in the slightest, following each perfect curve of his handwriting as he drafted what seemed to be a letter.
“Can you read what I write?” Salem disrupts her straying thoughts.
Inayah flush in slight humiliation, glad that can see nothing of her face, “A bit.”
“A bit.” He echoes.
“Literacy is for the rich,” she corrects mildly, suddenly aware of his straying hand which slowly strokes up and down her knee, collecting the material of her hem in the process.
“Would you like to know how to read and write?” Salem inquires. Inayah considers his question and nods.
His lips are suddenly on the shell of her ear, the act rather quick and intimate, “slip your underwear off.” He whispered. Panic rose in her.
Be a slave. Obey.
She wiggled out of her underwear and let them fall to the floor. “Now spin around here and face the other way.” She turned, frightened but more afraid of displeasing him again. He ran his rand over her thigh, down to her calf and slid the skirt of her dress high enough to slide his hand in.
He slid his hand up her thigh and his fingers paused where her thighs met. “Spread them … wider… more... Good girl.” He slid his hand higher until his finger tips grazed her pussy and she gasped. His thumb found the right spot as he slipped another finger partway inside of her and she whimpered and moaned at the same time.
His thumb rotated around her gently, causing her to tremble and squirm in his arms. His pace quickened and her head rolled onto his shoulder in surrender as she gripped his hair in one hand and his shirt in the other.
“Shh, my pet. When I bring you, you must be quiet. Can you do that? If you cry out, my brother will know. Do you want that?”
She moaned into his shoulder, her back arching. His low chuckle as his pace quickened made her tremble, nearing completion when his free hand suddenly caught her chin and tilted her mouth up to his. The kiss was enthralling and devastating all at once as she let him take all of her cries, riding through wave after wave of ecstasy while coming apart on his working fingers, thumb rubbing insistently over her clit.
Spent, Inayah collapsed against his chest, panting. He pulled his hand from beneath her skirt then smoothed it down whilst stroking her hair with the other. Inayah felt him grip her ponytail firmly and tilt her head back, his thumb pressed on her lips and she knew what he wanted almost preternaturally.
Inayah took it into her mouth and sucked on the saline flavor, rolling her tongue over it as his eyes darkened to amethyst. “Every morning and evening, I will teach you how to read and write.”
Inayah nods, stunned as his mouth replaces his thumb. The kiss is pressing, lingering but does not probe further. “You will not leave this mansion lest it be with me, understood?”