Page 1 of To Tame An Angel
CHAPTER ONE
LADY NALLA
It seemed strange to receive a grown man for one’s birthday, but these are the presents we are gifted.
“You spent too many months with a man, Nalla. You sympathize with them,” grandmother said on her deathbed.
But to celebrate my birthday meant celebrating the death of my twin. The servants murmured whispers of me strangling him so I could arrive first. Likely exaggerated lies, but the notion haunts me. It’s not like I would’ve known my brother for long. All boys are taken at age five to the pits and the general held no mercy for men. Mother, the Royal General to the Queen, birthed no other boys and was proud of her four daughters to carry her revered lineage.
The black paint of birth is marked on my forehead, a latticed pattern for today I become a woman. Decked in an imperial white dress with golden sandals so that all those who see me know that here is a woman about to select the first cock she’ll ride.
We usually ride horses.
Mother enjoys the power of the animal, and we’re well-schooled in equestrian techniques. We are, after all, daughters of a general. Should a war arise, we’ve been trained since birth. But today we rode in a carriage, mostly for Villa. Her belly is wide as she enters her seventh month of pregnancy. It makes me wonder if one day that will be me as I ride with my younger sister on her auspicious day.
My hands tremble and I’m plagued with worry. What if I make the wrong choice? What if I don’t like him? What if he doesn’t like me? Mother would scoff at my inner dialogue. Despite all the training and the countless hours of tutelage, I still believed the man sharing my bed should wish to be in my bed. Of his own volition. These thoughts were mine. These thoughts were illegal.
This past year, mother trained me in the art of taming. It’s more than pain or discomfort, a taming is invading their mind. I’ve watched as she broke the men she selected and encouraged me to do the same. There was no denying the arousal flooding me at seeing of the men chained and pliant. Cock rigid and leaking, desperate for release. However, rigid cocks are not what enter my daydreams. In the world with my mind, I cooed tenderly to my bound man, caressing his face, and praising his good behavior.
The carriage came to an abrupt halt, and mother sighed in relief. She shoved her door open, not bothering to wait for the servants, and jumped out. My stomach was fisted tight, and I swore I’d be sick.
Villa glanced at me with a wry grin. “You best go first. It’s your day.”
Nodding, I pulled my dress up, careful not to step on the fine silk. I wanted to look nice when I met him. Whoever he was. Wouldn’t bode well to be wrinkled and frazzled, would it?
The odor of the place slammed into us like a wave. It smelled like a training room. The scent of sweaty, dirty bodies creates a rancid symphony.
Mother stood in her military regalia, her sword strapped to her waist, her hair braided, and her feathered helmet on her head. She yanked it off and smiled, as if we’d just arrived at her favorite establishment. Despite her years, she’s muscled and lean, losing none of her vigor.
Next to her, Zaya jumped down from her horse and landed neatly next to mother. She’d refused to ride the carriage, casting a glowering look to Villa at the sight of her round belly. Zaya was also dressed in her military armor, and she resembled mother so strongly, it was uncanny. As the eldest, one day she would be the Royal General, something she had a great fire for.
Zaya tossed her long brown braid to the side and looked at me with amusement. “How grown you look, little Nalla.”
Her voice is a silken mocking purr, which flushed me under the sun. She always did this, always wished me to know my place as if I were nothing more than a man.
“If you weren’t busy all the time riding your mediocre angels, you could’ve stopped by for my celebration dinner,” I snapped in disdain.
There was no shame in Zaya. She plastered a smirk and followed mother as they entered the pit. Poor Villa huffed as she was aided down from the carriage, sighing when she stood next to me.
“Don’t take it to heart. She also mocked the day I got my first angel,” Villa said with a soft look. “Don’t let her take the joy of it.”
Would there be joy? I wasn’t certain. Now marked the days of struggle as I attempted to wrangle this unknown man into submission. There was little chance of voicing concerns as mother called our names. Seeing the General, the Matron who ran the pit was delighted. Likely because mother was a steady customer and only purchased the very best.
“General Hollian, you honor us once more!” The Matron said, her face was pale and freckled, but her skin was worn and sagging.
Mother glanced at me. “I bring my third daughter for her first. Why don’t you round up your most impressive ones? I want her first to be a bull.”
A flurry of movement began as the pits echoed the instructions, and the taskmasters selected the men. Seeing as I’d never been here before, I desperately wished to look. Without awaiting permission, I pressed myself over the railing and stared down into the pits.
A good fifty feet below was a large carving made from the black mountain. Within, it seemed like a city of its own, with doors and rooms, windows and greenery. There were no fine slates to adorn the floors, only clay-dirt painting the men’s feet.
What greeted me was a sight to make me gasp.
So many men! How was one to choose from so many? There were short men with stocky, compact bodies. Mother loved those. There were thinner ones with long bodies and gangly limbs. Villa preferred those. And then there were the bulls; massive men with wide shoulders, muscled arms, who walked as if a giant cock dangled between their legs.
Mother joined me in my perusal, and she chuckled at my reaction. “You’ll not take one of those. The best are not kept there, in the clay-pits. These are still nice to look at, don’t you think? Sometimes, when I’m feeling particular, I drop a single feather. Whoever it lands on, I choose. It’s lovely to see the panic on their faces when they look up to find me watching.”
Her face was hard. She was lovely once, but the bitterness of life ate away her beauty and now she was leathery harshness. Staunch lips and a withered chin.