Tuesday, 12 March 2013

Tuesday, March 12, 2013 -

For the Love of a Priestess

by Rue Chapman
Published: Mar 12, 2013
Words: 70,212
Category: romance
Orientation: M/F
Click HERE for further details and purchase options.
Chapter 1 - The Contest

The first slaves were led out, stripped naked for the ordeal ahead, trembling and nervous. Aliera watched, tense, from her cushioned seat above the arena, shaded by coloured silks and screened by fine gauze curtains. Her future would be decided today.

Down in the arena the women were urged into a line by the guards, then a roar went up from the crowd as the candidates strode out into the bright sunshine. Aliera leaned forward to catch a glimpse of Kevan; there he was, so handsome, his hair golden in the sunlight. Kevan who whispered sweet words to her, who kissed her hand, who promised he'd be the one chosen for her ceremony. He just had to win today.

The men lined up, stripped to the waist, flexing muscles and limbering up for the trials. Aliera counted twenty, the best of the best, every man sure he'd be the one. The huge form of a town blacksmith; a wiry miner from the mountains, one of those ageless little old men who are stronger than they look; soldiers of fortune trying for their big chance; solid burghers from the town; a few priests, hard-eyed and dedicated; half a dozen young lords, patrician and superior; two wild-eyed tribesmen from the plains. And Goran, the Commander of the Palace Guard. Aliera shivered. Goran, so arrogant, so sure of himself, always there whenever she wanted to do anything with his, "The Princess is mistaken, she will not be doing this today... My lady, this is not how a Princess behaves... I am sure His Majesty would not approve." His dark eyes sweeping over her without the awe and respect she received from the rest of the palace staff. Arrogant pig! He looked so huge and uncouth beside her lovely Kevan.

It began. Each of the contestants reached for a slave, then dragged her towards a line of seats. The men sat down, depositing their reluctant assistants over their knees. Twenty pale rumps pointed to the sky.

Twenty hands raised, waited for the signal. Whimpers from the miserable slaves sounded loud in the sudden silence. The High Priestess, Tiarna, stepped forward and looked down into the arena. At her gesture a gong sounded and twenty hands descended. The spanking began.

Aliera watched, knowing that the winner of the contest would soon be spanking her the same way. She noticed several different techniques: some hit slow and hard, some fast and light, some concentrated several strokes on one spot before moving to another, some seemed to strike at random following no pattern at all. Yelps, squeals and wails rose louder as twenty bottoms reddened. Legs kicked, hands beat on the ground. The sounds of determined slapping went on. The sand ran through the timer. Aliera began to suspect that ten minutes could seem like quite a long time.

Aliera wriggled on her cushioned seat. She had never been spanked, never felt an angry touch.