A Sinless Betrayal by Cherie Benjamin (books to read for 12 year olds .TXT) 📖

in my dirty red dress. He stands back and looks at me. He slips off his fur vest, revealing a huge muscled chest and abs so prominent that they looked like they could grate cheese. I refrain myself from fainting at this man's sheer beauty.

Suddenly, he raises his hand and tears off a strip of my red silk dress. I shriek and back away from him. "What do you think you are doing?" I hiss at him horror. He cocks his head, not quite understanding. His hands go around to his waist to untie the breechcloth that hid his manhood from my eyes.

"No!" I put my hands up to cease his movement. I stumbled back to where the barbarian's bed was and gripped the fur covers.

He looks at me like I have three heads growing out of my neck. "No?" he asks in confusion. "No?"

His hands fall away from his breechcloth as he narrows his eyes and sucks his lip into his mouth. My heart is pounding. He comes at me quickly and I scream, trying to jump away, but I am too slow.

He wrestles me to the bed, lifting my skirts and struggling his way through my undergarments. "Be still!" he booms.

There are tears in my eyes as he inserts a finger inside of me. He makes a noise, like he had been contemplating something for days and just now found the answer to his question. He takes his finger out of me and pops it into his mouth, separating those sweet russet lips and swirling his juice-coated finger into his mouth.

I stay still and silent, completely taken aback by what he is doing. Flames spark down near my groin as I watch as he looks into my eyes and greedily sucks my nectar off of his finger like it was some sort of fine wine. It was the most erotic thing I had ever experienced in my entire life.

He took his finger out of his mouth and rested his hand next to my head. "Virgin," he whispers before laughing deeply. He steps away from me, still laughing. He throws a pile of furs in her direction, taking a sip of his wine glass. "Dress yourself, Budurwa. I shall not bed you tonight."

He sits back down in his chair. My heart pounds faster and faster. This was my reality. Here I was in a barbarian castle, sitting indecently in the corner of a barbarian's room in a torn red dress as his whore.

I can't do this.

I won't do this. Bruise

The next morning I wake up in a comfortable, warm bed. I don't remember how I got here or how I got changed into the animal skin bedclothes. I open my eyes and look around. I'm still in his room. Did he take advantage of me during the night? I wait for the painful ache between my legs to come, but it doesn't.

I'm relieved.

As I throw the bearskin covers off of my body, I notice how scantily dressed I am. The cloth doesn't do much to hide my breasts or shield my legs. I understand that it's hot where we are, but to dress like this is a complete disgrace. If my father ever saw me like this, he'd surely roll in his grave.

A loud knock on the door causes me to jump. He strides into the room, wearing nothing but bearskin pants and a deerskin breechcloth. He wears bones around his neck and has feathers weaved into his long braid. On his face are red patterns and black lines as if someone had painted on him.

I look down at his hands to see what he carries in his hand. It's a dress made out of sheer gold material. He looks at me expectantly, holding out the dress. I slide slowly out of the bed and hesitantly take it into my hands. He turns away as soon as it's in my hands and sits down in his chair.

Am I to change in front of him? I walk back into the corner of the room and slowly slip off my top. He throws a glance in my direction while drinking his wine, his black eyes roaming over my pale skin. I squeak in disapproval; he chuckles and turns back towards his wine.

"You insecure," he croons in his smooth bass. "I am no stranger to the woman's body."

My eyes widen and I can feel my cheeks flush. As soon as my top is off, I slip on the dress. It's beautiful but awfully revealing. Two strips of gold material cover my breasts and the sheer skirt does not do much to hide my legs. If it weren't for the gold undergarment, he would have had me walking around half naked.

He looks at me when I'm finished. "First meal starts soon," he grunts. His beautiful eyes roam up and down my body. I cross my arms over my chest and he chuckles again. "Budurwa."

I look at him, blushing. I do not even know this man's name, and yet he wishes me to bed him. "What do you call yourself?"

He sips his wine, his eyes darting from hers to the wall every so often. "Is not your place to be askin' 'dat."

I feel as if I've been punched right in my gut. Back in Bellechester, I was treated with such respect. Men would come round, throwing their names at me so I'd remember them and maybe want to court them. But now, here, I felt like the dirt on the sole of someone's feet, a burden.

I put my hands on my hips and frown at him. "You sit here, expecting me to be your whore, and you don't even have the common decency to tell me your name?" I hiss. "That's just grand."

His eyebrows rise at my comment, his black eyes flickering with mirth. "You test me," he says. "Three Horses was right. Strong woman, you are."

He stands up from where he was seated in his big bearskin chair. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a long, golden chain. It is the most beautiful piece of jewellery I've ever seen. He slips it over my head and then pushes a lock of my chestnut hair out of my eyes. "A gift?" I ask.

He nods and the corner of his mouth tugs up slightly. "Na'am, Tiger Claw. A gift from Dances With Wolves."

My mouth falls open slightly. I remember the story that Cassandra told me in the harem, about the barbarian king, Dances With Wolves and his raging temper. I am almost afraid to lift my eyes to his, but I do anyway. He is here, he is tangible, and he is standing right in front of me.

"Your name," I whisper. "It's…it's Dances With Wolves?"

He proudly nods.

I swallow the lump in my throat. "You…you're the barbarian king?"

"Yes," he begins, picking up his goblet of wine and sipping the red liquid, all the while keeping his eyes on her. "I am the king. But if you wish to, you may call me Abigor. "

I blink. "Abigor? That's a commoner's name."

He shrugs his shoulders. "We are all given commoner's names at birth, as well as our barbaric names, as your kind would call it. For instance, Three Horses' commoner's name is Daniel, and Drinks of Waterfall has Tristan. The barbaric names are what we prefer to be called, because 'de name describes us. Tristan's father was a heavy drinker, so when he was born he was given 'de pure name of Drinks of Waterfall, to rid 'is family name of drinkin'. And Daniel was sold by 'is father as a child for three horses, thus 'de name Three Horses came about."

My mouth drops open. "I had no idea."

Abigor sighs and sets his goblet down on the cherry wood table. "But," he begins. "If you call me my common name in public, or anyone else, there will be consequences."

He turns on his heel to leave. "Wait!" I call. "I'm Elizabella, not Tiger Claw."

Abigor doesn't look amused. "We must leave."

I fold my arms tighter over my chest and follow him down the long, dark hallways until I can hear the sound of chatter and clinking of plates in the dining hall. I watch as Abigor steps into the dining hall first.

The room goes silent. He opens his arms and smiles, and the cheering starts up again. He takes his place at the end of the table, and the food is instantly passed to him. I peer into the bright dining hall from the dark corridor I'm in. Some of the harem girls were sitting on their man's laps and feeding them sensually, but I don't see Michelle, Cassandra, or Evalyn.

I step into the light slightly. Men can see me now, and some hoot to try to call me over to them. Abigor turns around slowly, glancing at me. "Eat," he says to me, nodding his head towards the seat near his. It's empty.

I walk around the table slowly, trying my best to hide my embarrassment as the men holler at me rudely. Suddenly, a man takes my seat. I give him an angry look before glancing back at Abigor. He does not pay attention. One of the harem girls is sitting in his lap and feeding him.

I do not know this man. He suddenly pulls me onto his lap, gesturing for me to eat. I do not squeal, for this must be the custom of a barbarian. On the china plate, which looked a lot like my mother's stolen plates, are some fried potatoes and sausages. I pick up the fork and stab at one of the potatoes.

The man's lap is uncomfortable and he shifts every so often, his fingers groping at my thighs. I try not to mind it. "Feed me," he says. I shiver as I lift one of the sausage links up to his lips shakily. He takes a bite off the end, locking eyes with me and growling in approval.

I'm disgusted. I turn away and eat the rest of my potatoes. "Again," he tells me. I ignore him, eating at my own food. He has hands, and he can feed himself if he wishes to.

The man becomes agitated. Suddenly, he grabs me and spreads my legs apart, jamming his finger into my wetness without warning or reason. I scream, standing up instantly. I backhanded him as hard as I could.

The room falls silent as the man curses and spits out a bit of blood from his lip. I can't believe that I just slapped a barbarian across the face. He looks up at me with hatred and lunges at me, grabbing me by the neck and begins to choke me.

I gasp for air that is nonexistent as his fingers tighten around my oesophagus and choke, my eyes becoming wide, my cheeks flushing bright red. No one says anything.

"How dare you disrespect me in my own house, you kariya!" he booms, his fingers going tighter on my neck if that was even possible. He lifts me off the ground.

I look at Abigor, waiting for him to say something. But he says nothing, looking away into the corner.

He drops me and I collapse to the ground, the sound of my ragged breath echoing throughout the hall. I'm humiliated. I'm hurt. My pride is gone. He