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The Legend of the Gamble (Safehold and butterfly0408)

Arya stopped, dead in her tracks. The action causing them to become separated from one another grasp as he kept on moving forward. When he would turn to look back at her, the look on her face was filled with an overwhelming pain. Hurt. Shame. Shaking her head softly, her lips parted at first yet no words came out. She paused, closing her eyes. As if she was trying to gain the strength to speak. And at last, when she did... "My father... you know nothing of my father. My father was a good man. My father loved my mother and loved every one of his children. The ones he sold deserved it. Every last one. My brother tired to rape one of his half sisters he lusted after. My sister tried to kill one of his harem slaves whom she thought to be a threat to her own mother's attention. They both deserved worse then life, but he spared them. He cried for them. He cried to my mother when she died and swore he could never love another woman like he loved her until death would join them like they could not be joined by law in this world." By now, tears were filling her eyes yet she somehow stayed strong before him. "You know nothing of my father but I tell you, he was not an evil man."

She turned her face from him and from the market, "I no longer wish to see the market. You say I have free will now. I choose to return to your home. I don't care to see the market. I would rather grow comfortable in my surroundings."
 
That same hardened side of Darius at first wanted to take vengeance upon being embarrassed by a slave -- his slave -- in public so. But she had a solid point jabbed right into everything he had done today. If she had free will, at least within the framework of officially remaining his slave, then it was her right to return to the palace, it was her right to go where she wanted. Even if that was nowhere. There was a legend about horses and water that Darius recalled, some ancient Arab fable, but he couldn't quite remember how it went. The principle was the important part though and Darius had just been outmaneuvered in his own scheme. Frustrating, but at least now, there was nothing to be done about that. He nodded to Abdul, who saluted and then proceeded to guide Arya back to the palace and to the only sort of world she knew.

That night, Darius found her in the relaxation area -- most other palaces would call it a harem, but this room featured only one woman. Pillows, couches, highly decorative curtains, and the like, all designed to meet the needs of a harem should one ever occupy the space were there. She was curled up in a fetal position, head between her knees, and Darius had to look away from her cleavage as he came to her. She had clearly been crying but went silent at his approach.
 
She should feel comfortable once again. She was back within her world. The harem his estate housed was grand and elegant. Warm and inviting everywhere you looked yet it was lonely as she was the only one in such a grand space. Her father's harem while only a fraction of this size and glamor was always filled with laughter and conversation. Music and dance. She was on her own here with nothing but her memories and questions that had been placed in her head by the short conversation with her master. She did not even know his name yet as he had yet to introduce himself with it. She did not speak to any servant around her to seek it out. For the time being, she did not want to think of him. Not when there was so many other troubles on her mind.

Was her whole existence a lie in her own mind? Was her father the good man she always thought him to be? And why? Still she had to ask why would he promise her so much and then take it all away? Send her to the same fate as her raping brother and murdering sister? What had she done wrong to earn such a thing?

When her master's presence was finally known to her, she sat up slowly, adjusting herself to sit pretty for him upon the pillows on the floor. Her eyes were still red with her tears yet the water had long dried up. She did not realize her own beauty and the picture she painted in that moment in her barely there clothing she still wore from upon the auction block and all the inviting plush pillows around her. "What is it you wish of me?"
 
Darius's emotions had been out of control the entire day. He knew it was ridiculous that a mere slave girl, however he chose to treat her and however he viewed her de facto status, could provoke such feeling for a man of his stature. But however it was, it was. Guilt over having helped to sustain the slavery industry with his massive purchase, even if the objective in doing so was to bring attention to himself and to his cause. Uncertainty over exactly how to go about his day to day life with her if he was going to do this, have her be more than a slave, to transcend the invisible chains which bound her and anchored her soul down. Sadness over having provoked such intense emotion from her with his arguments against her father's actions... Pride in knowing that his message had nonetheless been received, and might just sink in with time. And finally Lust.

He controlled it, he denied it, but yet it remained. There could be absolutely no doubt that she was the most beautiful girl he had ever laid eyes on... and in law, she was his. And her training, her mindset, the kind which had provoked her to defend her father so passionately even in the face of what he had done to her, would mean that he wouldn't even have to force the matter if he sought it out... as he, in a way that shamed him, wanted to do as he dipped his head inside the relaxation room curtain. His eyes widened. She had changed, apparently taking advantage of the services from his paid servants that he had unofficially left at her disposal to produce a positively gorgeous blue chemise and skirt that matched her eyes perfectly and served to complement her light skin and hair. She sat reclined, part of the training she had received Darius figured, with her arms spread out over luxuriant pillows and her legs open just enough to entice while held to reveal nothing. As he approached, she shifted toward him, and he got a good look at her cleavage and could see her nipples straining against the azure fabric.

"What is it you wish of me?" she asked in a neutral tone.

Darius took a knee to be on her level and looked into her eyes. "I..." the heat of the moment was overwhelming. Desire crawled down his spine like a spider before reaching his member, which became uncomfortably hard. His blood warmed and his muscles reached out, aching for her touch. She's your slave... the thought could not be purged from his mind. Take her. Own her. He set a hand on his knee, his lips briefly quivering as he blinked with nerves. He could not stave it off any more. He uttered a sound of excitement and surrender as the hand darted up to her neck and gentle fingers latched around it.
 
Arya had really not thought anything about her change of clothing beyond how she needed something clean to sit around in. He had seemed to make it perfectly clear to her earlier when they spoke that he had no intention of ever using her for warming his bed so she had picked something that she honestly did not find to be all that revealing or appealing. At least not compared to the things she had seen the women of her father's harem lounging about in when they wished to capture attention.

As her master came walking in, she sighed a little and prepared herself for what she assumed was going to be more talking. This time though, she was unsure if she was going to be ready to defend her father once again or if she would find herself now admitting that she had been wrong all her life while he was right. And indeed, her words to him were said in a very neutral way. Nothing, not a single thing was meant to tempt him in any way, shape, or form. If she wanted to do that, things would have been far different.

Yet as he came down to her level, she sensed something was not all that neutral in his eyes. She found herself strangely drawn to them and they looked into her own with such and intensity. Before she could question him though, he was descending down upon her with such sudden speed, she had no time to do anything but gasp as he head moved with his hand, pulling her into his kiss. Her own hand shooting up to touch his shoulder as she felt suddenly unsteady. Holding herself to him made her seem more comfortable with this surprising turn of events. Did he now suddenly find himself ready to use her as it was expected? What had changed his mind? That was a question to later however as he lips anticipated being very occupied for the moment.
 
Overpowered with lust, Darius simply allowed his body to control the coupling. If he thought about it long, he knew that he would stop. No, no, don't stop. Just as he had privately fantasized, her lips were like honey to the taste and silk to the touch. As she seemed to tolerate his kiss he deepened it, pressing into her. His hand reached up and ripped down the fringe of her chemise, exposing her perfect, ripe breasts to him. Reaching to her hips and pulling her on top of him, he looked into her eyes. There he saw surprise... but also an aura of lust. Was she acting? Was it just her training? Or was she feeling as he did? He didn't know and he didn't care. Those breasts called to him, and he answered. Taking one in his hand and one in his mouth, he sucked and tweaked in equal measure as his rock-hard cock posted through his trousers against the outline of her slit underneath her flimsy skirt. His tongue orbited around a nipple and pressed into it with skillful attention while he found the pleasure points on her other mammary with his hand that few men knew how to tap, rubbing and occasionally pinching them with equal measure.
 
Surprise was hardly the beginning of the look in her eyes at that moment. It was more shock then surprise. What had happened to the man she had met earlier in the day? The man that was so against this kind of practice? The man that wanted to use her as a symbol against exactly what they were starting now. Yet his kiss was so intoxicating, any thoughts of protest or reminding him of his previous morals. All she could suddenly think of was wanting another kiss of his tender lips. Lust had overtaken him and with just one deep, passionate kiss... lust had overtaken her as well.

A sharp gasp slipped from her lips as he tugged at her clothing. A small rip was heard before it feel low enough down her arms to allow him access to her ample breasts. Again, words of question started to rise to her lips, yet they were replaced instead but a gasp and a moan in the moment that his lips descended down upon her. Moving with him as she rolled and somehow ended up in his lap, her legs parting to straddle his lap. The way his tongue toyed with her nipple, her head tossed back in a sign of pleasure. Arya was new to such sensations but with just a few moments of pleasure she understood why the women of the harem sought such pleasures so often. Her hands moved to lace her fingers up into his hair, massaging his scalp while her hips ever so slowly started to grind against his. The movement was not very bold or out there, more shy and testing. She was after all rather knew to the actual practice of all the skills that until the moment were only in her head. It was time to give things a try it seemed.
 
He was still filled with doubt and shame, but his body didn't care, and his mind was too preoccupied to stop it. His teeth teased her nipple with a bite but his jaw slacked as she began to works her abs to rub her barely contained pussy against his cock. Her virginity became apparent as she stuck to simply rubbing instead of the more complex dances and moves of some of the women that Darius had been with, but it didn't matter. None of those women could hold a candle to Arya's sheer overpowering beauty. He paused away from her breast and looked up as she continued to grind herself on him. Her arms were by now arched over his shoulders and securely laid behind his head, so that they weren't in the way between him and the prize of her breasts. But he wanted more than that now, and when her hypnotizing eyes met his, he couldn't stop himself. He had to have her, damn the hypocrisy, the depravity of it all. It wasn't like he was about to rape her -- no, she was clearly becoming quite keen to the prospect of their coupling. But it was still a major barrier to do what he did, and press her back against the soft mass of pillows while a quick hand freed his cock. A rapid hiking up of her skirt gave him the access he needed...
 
Doubt was purged from his mind, but as she found herself so suddenly upon her back, her legs spread and her womanhood exposed, doubt filled her own. Well, it was not doubt really. It was something else. Perhaps it was shock once again filling her. How had things moved this fast?

She realized then it was not her place to question how things had moved to this point so rapidly. Her life was not her own any longer. She belonged to him. All over her. Her lips that he kissed. Breasts he had sucked upon. And yes, even her virginity he was now pressing himself against between her legs. The tip of his cock having come to meet it and press against it as it threatened to break through it and fully take all over her for himself. The feeling was different then she had expected. It was not as pleasant as his kiss of her skin. In fact, it felt awkward and when at last his cock was pressing against the true sign of her innocence, she knew that all the things she had been told where true. The death of virginity would be a painful thing. Arya shut her eyes and seemed to brace herself for the moment suddenly. It was suddenly not a moment of lust any longer. Not for her. Reality had stuck her. She was a sex slave. This was her life now. There was nothing to do but lay back and accept it. That was exactly what she was doing.
 
As he was about to enter her, he sensed something was wrong. He looked to her eyes, and fear, nervousness, looked back. None of the eager response she had given him before. And then it hit him. Like a great tide of water impacting him in the face. "No." He pulled up his trousers and rolled off of her. "No, no, I cannot do this. I... I am sorry. For trying. You..." His head was doing cartwheels, and he started to pace. "It is not your fault. Please." He looked down at the ground. "Please forgive me, for trying to take such advantage, I don't know what happened I..." He closed his eyes and felt the welling of tears, and the shame came next. "I am no man, I am an animal." He looked to her eyes, sorrowfully. "You deserve better."
 
This whole night was turning into a whirlwind. He didn't want her. He wanted her. He was on top of her. He was off of her. Arya was left, half clothed, laying flat on her back, her legs propped open and her breathing rapid as she watched him pacing back and forth before her. She didn't exactly know how to take this. Should she be thankful? He had not pressed himself the final few inches to send her spiraling into pain and down a path there was no turning back from. Or should she be offended? Was she not appealing enough to him that he could not bring himself to finish the deed he had started? The innocent in her was thankful. The harem girl in her was insulted.

Realizing suddenly that was was still laying there looking like some needy whore, Arya snapped into action and started to throw her clothing back onto herself. She said nothing to him as she got to her feet and ran from the room. There was not really any place she could go besides the next room, but at the moment, it was far enough from the shame of what had just happened.
 
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