Claimed by the General Page 2

  “That’s my good girl,” he whispered, over and over.

  When Ayala was finally able to compose herself, she lifted her head a bit. Her hand slipped down to touch her bottom, as it was still bare as she sat on his lap. The heat emanating off of it was astounding. Slowly, Ayala dared to lift her eyes, only to quickly look back down when she discovered Eiotan watching her.

  “Ayala, you took that very well. I want you to remember this as a warning, a deterrent should you ever think to disobey my orders in the future. I will not hesitate to spank you when I deem necessary. You are never to fight me when I decide you are in need of discipline. Am I understood?”

  Ayala nodded, softly adding a “Yes, sir,” hoping to please him. Her head felt so scrambled. Her bottom throbbed. Tears continued to slip down her cheeks. Lord Eiotan took a hold of her face and wiped the tears away with his thumb. The gesture was extremely comforting.

  She was quiet for a moment longer, trying to gather her thoughts.

  “Wha… what sort of things will I be responsible for?” she stammered, clearly nervous about what she was getting herself into and clearly not wanting another session over his knees.

  Eiotan moved and helped her stand up. His fingers traced the curves of her bottom, bringing more chills to heated flesh.

  She reached down to grab her panties, which were tangled around her ankles, and pulled them up. It hurt when the fabric moved over her scathed behind. She smoothed her dress before glancing up at Eiotan, embarrassed yet again. He did nothing to acknowledge that. Instead, he looked at her and began to answer her question. She quickly tried to wipe away the tears from her eyes, and then folded her hands, feeling awkward.

  “I am a military general within the Aztec army. I work to defend our city, and keep neighboring territories from attacking those who live here. I have received news of a man from overseas, a land I hear whispers only about—Spain. His name is Hernán Cortés. Rumors tell me he is to arrive tomorrow, at our city gates. Our ruler, Moctezuma, is to meet him, on the Great Causeway into the city. I am to be by his side, and so you shall be too.”

  “I shall be beside the king?’ Ayala whispered. “But, sir… I do not have anything to wear, I am dirty from fieldwork. I cannot afford anything new…”

  “You shall not need to worry. Tonight you will be bathed and dressed in the finest clothing.” Slowly he helped her stand, steadying her as they rose. “Come, I shall take you to the bathhouses.” He beckoned to her, and Ayala followed. He opened the door through which they had entered, and held it for her. She walked outside and turned, waiting for him to direct her. He laced an arm around her waist to lead her down the street toward buildings she had never set foot in, let alone imagined ever doing so.

  He paused in front of a grand-looking stone temple, slowly turning to walk into the door. There was a servant waiting, and he approached her. He passed some cacao beans, which were the form money was tendered in the city, into the servant’s hands.

  “Please, I need her taken care of today, the works. She is to be present in front of a very important guest tomorrow. I shall return with clothing for her to wear from the market; feel free to discard what she is wearing now. Thank you. I will be back in due time.”

  The female servant, dressed in white clothing, was slim, of a light build. She nodded curtly and gestured toward Ayala. “Follow me,” she said softly, walking toward a hallway. Ayala looked back at Eiotan as she moved away. Their eyes met and he smiled at her before he turned, breaking their eye contact. She allowed herself to be led away.

  Her dress was taken first. One of the attendants noticed that her bottom was red, and muttered something about it to another. Ayala did her best to ignore it, but was sure that her face turned red in embarrassment. She wondered how many other women like her were turned over a man’s knee for misbehaving.

  The bathhouse was amazing. She was given a bath with rosewater, and all the dirt of the fields was washed away. After that, oils were massaged into her skin. Her hair was brushed and trimmed, her face painted with makeup. She felt like a member of the nobility for the first time in her life.

  She was brought before a polished stone mirror and shown her reflection. She searched for a moment, looking for herself. She gasped, realizing the face in the mirror was her. Dark, jet-black hair, shiny and beautiful, lay brushed and smooth all the way down to her mid-back. Pretty green eyes stared back at her, accentuated by her slightly reddened lips. She ran her hands through her hair, remarking at how smooth and beautiful it looked. When she turned away from the mirror, she nearly jumped. Eiotan was waiting by the door. He was holding a jade-colored piece of cloth in his arms.

  Ayala blushed, realizing she was still naked. Her slim, well-muscled body shrank away a bit, as she tried to cover herself with her hands. Eiotan smiled and laughed softly.

  “It’s alright, Ayala, no need to be modest. That bare bottom was spanked over my knee earlier today, as it probably will again soon should you not heed my warning.” He looked at her sternly, a mischievous smile playing at his lips. Ayala blushed even harder, especially when the attendant in the room smiled in response.

  The attendant took the cloth from Eiotan and brought it over to Ayala. She helped her dress into new, pristinely white underclothes. Next came the jade piece of cloth, which turned out to be a dress. Ayala lifted her arms so that the dress could be draped over her. The dress hugged her bust, stomach, and hips, flowing out to cover her legs to her ankles. It had short sleeves, and a darker green sash that hung around her waist, the ends hanging down to the bottom of the dress. Finally, a pair of beige-colored sandals was put on her feet. She turned to Eiotan after she was fully dressed.

  “You look so beautiful, Ayala,” he said softly. “You will definitely outshine many people tomorrow by my side. Come, let us head back home; the sun should be setting soon and we will have a busy day tomorrow.”

  He led her out of the bathhouse and retraced his steps back into the building they had been in before. This time, he entered the hallway and showed Ayala a bedroom.

  “This is your room,” he said nonchalantly. Ayala gasped. A beautiful bed was in the center. An intricate quilt covered it, along with a mound of pillows, all in red and gold. A washbasin was in the corner. A small room was connected. She glanced in and saw a rack of dresses hanging there.

  “What’s this?” she whispered, astounded.

  “That is yours to choose from, Ayala. I had them ordered from the market today. A few more should be deliveredappro tomorrow or the day after.” He moved over to a side table and opened a drawer. He pulled out a wooden hairbrush and put it in Ayala’s hands.

  “This is to be left out beside your bed. Should you ever disappoint me, I will send you to retrieve it. I will then paddle your backside with it. Am I understood?”

  Nervous butterflies twirled in her stomach. It was a heavy brush, made of dark wood. The back of the brush was flat, almost as if its only purpose was to punish her backside. Eiotan took the brush from her and gently pushed her face-down over the bed, so that her bottom was in the air. She complied without question, unsure about what was happening. He lifted her dress and pulled her panties down.

  “But, but, I haven’t done anything wrong sir!” she yelped, hands reaching backwards.

  He took the brush and aimed, placing two quick, heavy smacks directly on each of her sit spots. She squeaked and jumped up, clutching at her bottom.

  “Oww, oww. That hurts!” she gasped, rubbing a bit. Eiotan placed the brush on the bedside table.

  “Something for you to think about. Be a good girl and get ready for bed. The sun is setting and I want you well rested.”

  Ayala nodded, the sting of the brush still biting into her. He walked out of the room and closed the door behind him, leaving her alone. There was a small stone mirror on the wall. She lifted her dress over her head and laid it gently on the bed. Turning in order to see her bottom in the mirror, Ayala could see that it was still very pink, with the shape of
the brush and his hand still apparent on her cheeks. She touched her right side and took a deep breath at the tenderness.

  She felt oddly safe. She hated to admit it, but maybe being spanked by Eiotan wasn’t such a horrible thing. The more she thought about being put over his knee and bared to be spanked like a little girl, the warmer she felt. She touched her bottom again, cupping the heat that still radiated off of it. She allowed her fingers to graze over her bottom, exciting herself in the process. A deep-seated need was beginning to take hold in her being.

  She finally took her eyes off of her pink bottom, pulled up her panties, and glanced over at the bed. She hadn’t realized that she was exhausted. The work in the fields all day, the attention at the bathhouse, the events in the field earlier, and a spanking finally took their toll. She crawled under the covers and fell asleep fairly quickly, her mind reminiscing about being spanked by Eiotan, his hand smacking away at her trembling bare bottom.

  Chapter Three

  Ayala woke up to early sunbeams streaming through her window. She stretched and yawned, not wanting to emerge from the comfort of the bed. Hearing a knock on the door, she watched as Eiotan stuck his head in. He smiled when he realized that she was awake.

  “Good morning, Ayala. I have breakfast ready. Please dress and come eat.” He shut the door and walked back down the hall.

  Ayala sighed and finally made herself climb out of the softness that was her bed. She picked up the jade-colored dress and pulled it over her head, smoothing it flat over her stomach and hips. She brushed her hair with her hairbrush, and splashed some water on her face from the washbasin. She put the hairbrush back on her bedside table, hoping to never have to hand it over to Eiotan for punishment. Once she felt ready, she opened the door and made her way back into the kitchen. Eiotan was putting two plates on the table. Ayala sniffed the air and smiled; eggs and fruit for breakfast.

  The two sat down and ate quietly, the food disappearing relatively quickly. When Eiotan finished, he glanced up at Ayala and cleared his throat.

  “Today is going to be very important. If you need to ask me anything, we need to be alone, and not in the presence of others. You are to act as my wife, and I would prefer if you wouldn’t speak unless spoken to. Keep your eyes down, but be observant, but not obvious. This Cortés is a dangerous man and I do not want you put in harm’s way. I wish for you to be safe.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ayala said softly in response, nervousness billowing through her. She swallowed and looked up at him. She felt awkward and didn’t really know what to say. A look of fear must have passed over her face, because his eyes softened. He rose from his chair; she trembled slightly, his aura of confidence and power emanating as he made his way to her and knelt in front of her. Would he spank her again? What had she done wrong? She wrung her hands and stared at the floor.

  “I saw something in you as you stood up for your fellow slave. I saw the independence and strength in what you did to save that young girl. Come now, look at me.” He lifted her chin and pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers caused tiny tingles to radiate down to her spine. She slowly raised her eyes to meet his.

  “You have nothing to fear from me. I will never cause any real harm to you. You are safe in my protection.” His eyes were so honest that Ayala allowed a glimmer of a smile to pass her lips. He smiled back in response.

  “Would you like to ask me anything else, while we are alone?” he said softly.

  Ayala was silent for a moment, searching for words. She met his eyes again and found it difficult to look away from those hazel-green eyes. It seemed like they held so many stories, that there were so many layers to this man she hardly knew.

  “Is there anything else I need to know, in order to act as your wife? I don’t want to accidentally disappoint you, sir,” she said, all the while envisioning her bare bottom being spanked by him.

  “Try not to look too curious to our visitor. Keep your eyes down as much as you can and do not speak a word. I will speak for you. I am unsure as to the customs of Cortés, and what he is expecting. Try to stay behind me, as much as you can.” He smiled and paused for a moment, contemplating something.

  “You look beautiful, by the way,” he said as he stood up, making his way back to his chair. Ayala already missed his warmth, his powerful demeanor. She felt herself blush at his compliment.

  “Sir?”

  He turned back to her.

  “I…” She paused, struggling to get what she wanted to say out. Inner turmoil begged her to stay silent.

  “Yes, Ayala?”

  “I’m afraid if I make a mistake… if I disappoint you, that you will spank me. I would be so ashamed and…” She squeezed her eyes shut and blurted it out. “Would you spank me in front of everyone?”

  His eyes held a glimmer of surprise, and a hint of something unknown passed across his face.

  “No, Ayala. I would not do that. What I would do is take you aside and tell you of your indiscretion. I would tell you that when we get home, you would receive a spanking. Your punishment would be handled between you and me. If this were to happen, you will go straight to your room when we get home, and wait for me to come administer your punishment. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir, thank you, sir,” Ayala said softly, her heart beating so loud she was sure he could hear. She saw his eyes soften again. “Will you tell me about Cortés?” she wondered aloud, her voice faint.

  He placed his elbow on the table and rested his chin in his hand. “He is from across the sea, from a land called Spain. We do not know much else about what he wants with our city. He has made it known that he has wanted to meet with Moctezuma, our king, many times. Rumor says he is a dangerous man, and has caused much death in the wake of his journey. He has an army. We have to tread lightly in how we treat him. The king has prepared the palace for Cortés and his allies to stay.” Lord Eiotan’s eyes steeled. “Today is going to be a very important day.”

  Ayala nodded and stood, gathering the dirty dishes from the table. She walked over to a small washbasin in the corner, and began to wash them with the lye soup that was next to it. She dried the dishes with a cloth and placed them on a shelf with other dishes. When she finished, she turned back to Lord Eiotan, finding a smile had crossed his face.

  She gave him a confused look. “What is it, sir?”

  He chuckled. “It’s nothing.”

  Outside a bell tolled one, two, three times, reverberating deep through Ayala’s bones. She forgot about Lord Eiotan for a moment. A shiver ran down her spine.

  Lord Eiotan stood, a deadly serious look coming over him.

  “Come, it is time.” He offered her his hand, and Ayala timidly walked over and placed hers in it. He led her out the door, out of his home, into the bustle of the city.

  Ayala kept her eyes down for most of the journey, her eyes flicking up occasionally to gaze over the busy roads. Little markets were everywhere, selling trinkets, a variety of different cloths, a tremendous amount of food, as well as among many other things. As they walked, the crowds began to get thinner. She knew they were making their way to the edges of the city.

  She hurried to keep up with his long powerful strides.

  “Sir? Where do we have to go?”

  “The Great Causeway, the entrance to the city,” he answered. “It’s not much farther.”

  Ayala found herself looking at him in wonder. Her thoughts wandered to the prior day. She had been working in the fields only yesterday, facing death for her indiscretion, only to be rescued by this man. She blushed when she thought about the spanking he gave her, the lesson in obedience. She felt her body flush at the thought. He had threatened to use that heavy hairbrush, even the leather belt around his waist. Would he really do that?

  He had been so strong, so powerful when he held her against his lap, spanking her bare backside. It had hurt, so very much. She had felt embarrassed, especially when he had taken down her underthings, but also strangely safe, even as his hand had
been smacking her. She caught herself wondering what those hands would feel like when used in a loving way, stroking her body instead of spanking it. A strange warmth passed through her again.

  She stopped short, and Lord Eiotan turned back to look at her.

  “Everything alright?”

  “Yes… Yes, sir,” she quickly answered, knowing her face must be as red as an apple. She forced herself to begin walking again. He gave her a quizzical look. There was little time for him to question her any further, as they reached the Great Causeway very shortly after.

  Ayala could have smacked herself. It was crazy for her to be thinking of her master in that way. He owned her. The fact that he spanked her proved that. He could have killed her, but instead found another use for her servitude. She found herself glaring at the ground, angry that she had allowed her emotions to take over. They could never be anything more than master and slave. Never.

  The two of them reached the edge of the causeway, giving them a view of the distant lands. Ayala raised her eyes, looking out in wonder. The land looked dark. As her eyes focused, it looked like many ants wandering in the city’s general direction.

  She gasped at the sight. It wasn’t ants; it was an army. There was hundreds, maybe thousands of men making their way to the city. A feeling of dread settled in her stomach. The king was waiting ahead, with a royal guard surrounding him.

  Moctezuma was a powerful man, king of the Aztec empire. He was strong and ruled many kingdoms. It was his rule that had led to her capture long ago, when she was much younger. She had known little but hard work since coming to this city after she was sold.

  A group was gathered on the other side of the causeway. They were wearing strange clothing. One man stood out, a white collar surrounding his throat. He was dressed in a dark shirt and pants, strong black boots. His dark hair seemed to fall in place; a dark beard surrounded his chin. As soon as her eyes fell on him, Ayala knew it had to be Cortés.