To Tame An Angel: A Femdom Fantasy Romance

CHAPTER TWO

NALLA

There was a deep sense of dread forming in the pit of my stomach. Maybe I’m not ready to handle such a fierce angel. He could easily deplete my magic, overpower and kill me if I lost control. There was an expectation that the first night was the worst. I’ve heard horrors of rapes and terrible beatings, which have ended with a dead man. Just the thought of it curls my insides. Mother might be harsh, but she’d never lost one of her men.

Once more, I go over all my items. Each was been specifically gifted to me. A new whip, a thin wooden rod, a leather paddle, various chains, ropes, ribbons, even feathers. In the center was the oaken box, inside is my brand. Many women brand their angel on the first night, get it over with. Mother expected this from me. I was unsure if I should do it tonight.

Tonight, I just wanted to speak to him. Perhaps have dinner and discuss things. Though I was uncertain what things we needed to discuss. Still, I hope he accepts the conversation.

Taking a shaky breath, I fidgeted with my hair, shifting a pin as I studied my reflection in the mirror. My curly brown hair is threaded with small white flowers, my dark eyebrows are tamed, and my large brown eyes look afraid. Though I’m not.

Well, I was afraid of failing.

When the knock sounded at my door, a deep flush settled over my cheeks.

“Alright,” I said to myself, pushing down my blue dress, flattening it. “You can do this. You’re a woman now. He’s yours.”

That sent a small thrill through my stomach, and I had to hold myself calm just thinking of all the fun things we could try together. Once he saw I would not hurt him for the sake of hurting him, he wouldn’t hate me. He’d probably learn to enjoy his life in my home.

Selecting the plush settee, I settled and lifted my chin.

“Come in,” I said with a firm voice.

The door unlatched, and I sucked in a sharp breath when the servants entered with my newly chosen man. He was so large; the cage hid his size. Everything about him is massive. His feet, his arms, his chest, the lump of cock under his trousers. He was blindfolded, but he smelled clean, just a fresh crisp scent. His face was shaved, along with his chest and arms. Likely all of him, too.

“You caught yourself a fine one, Lady Nalla,” Rissa, my old nurse, said, her eyes appreciating the chained physique before her.

I smiled and waved my hand. “Bring dinner.”

The servants curtsied and left the man chained and blindfolded before me. The fire flickered from the hearth and painted his chest in shadows. His mouth was set, and I noticed the flexing of his arms as I stared at him. I couldn’t deny that he was impressive. I allowed myself a little daydream of having him willingly at my feet.

“You may remove your blindfold,” I said.

His nostrils flared. Slowly, he raised his hands, making the chains jangle. With one yank, he tore the cloth, and it floated to the floor. His eyes were still closed and there was that same flash of defiance on his features.

“Aren’t you going to behold your lady, number Seventy-four?” I asked when he made no move to open them.

This time he smiled, but it was a mockery. Slowly, he opened them and speared me with a hateful glare. There was an undeniable thrill that rushed through me. He was wordlessly challenging me, and I was desperate to prove him wrong. But I must enact patience.

“You look better than before.” I slowly rose and my blue gown fluttered to the ground.

His eyes followed the moment of the dress. His throat bobbed, but the rest of him was so still he looked like he was made from stone. Conscious of his stares, I moved around the room and poured a drink, then motioned for the couch.

“Have a seat,” I said.

He raised a brow but refused to move.

I paused my pouring, “I said sit -”

“Isn’t this when you start the beating before you brand me?” His voice was sharp and corroded.

His words zapped my annoyance. He wasn’t afraid or hesitant. Just angry. Perhaps a little confused. He met my gaze, and I noticed how he ground his teeth, making his jaw jut out.

I raised my brow. “Do you wish for a beating?”

“No,” his words were short and tight.

“Then why ask about it?” I sauntered to him, a glass of wine in hand.

He let out a frustrated breath and shifted his feet, making the chains jangle. “I don’t like games.”

At this, I smiled. “That’s a shame. I know many games we could partake in, and I dare say you’d enjoy yourself very much.”

There’s a twitch in his cock. His reaction is nearly imperceptible, but my magic shows it to me. He swallows. It’s slight, but it’s there.

I offered him the glass of wine. His eyes flickered to it, then he wordlessly raised his hands to my eye level to show he was chained.

Nodding, I pointed to the couch once more. “Sit. I’ll not ask again.”

“Or you’ll do what?” His voice was venom as he leaned in.

His actions and words spurred in me a panic of anger and I twisted my hand, flourishing the magic in the air. He groaned, bending forward, fighting it something fierce. But the magic had him and slowly he walked, grunting and yelling, step by step, until he plopped down on the settee.

I had to take sharp breaths as the lightheadedness overcame me. Obviously, I’d practiced using my magic, but never been against someone who fought it so violently. A soft tinge of musk and citrus filled the air. It emanated from him.

From the couch, he laughed. “Yes, drain yourself.”

I held on to the wall, then came to stand by him. He looked up, sweat matted his hair, and his blue eyes watched me with delight. He was going to fight me the entire time, wasn’t he?

With a trembling hand, I raised the glass of wine. “Drink.”

He smiled. It was hateful and vindictive. He raised his hands once more to show the chains. I decided to try something different. I took a step towards him and gently touched his head. This startled him and he dropped his smile, stiffening.

I ran my hands over his brown hair, curling my fingers into his strands. I was surprised to find it soft and inviting. Without warning, he yanked his head back.

“What are you doing?” There was anger, but there was also a slight tinge of fear. Panic pitted with confusion.

“Helping you drink,” I said and held his head. Slowly, I brought the cup to his lips. His breathing changed, and he strained against me, but I held him steady. “A small sip. You can manage it.”

He threw me one last rabid glance before he gulped the wine. I pulled back when I saw a small dribble course down his chin. I grabbed a small cloth from the table and dabbed his face with a smile. He was still as a stone of hate.

“Is it good? I love sweet wine.”

It didn’t feel normal to have these conversations with a shackled man. I hadn’t tamed him but leaving him free liberty to roam the room was unadvisable. When he didn’t respond, I sighed and sat myself across from him. His eyes were speared on me.

“I ordered the cook to prepare a variety of meals. I wasn’t certain what you preferred.”

He remained unmoved. My patience was running thin, and I could hear the clock ticking. My mother expected that by now I had him whimpering at least.

Taking a deep breath, I steadied my back and set my hands on my knees. “I’m myself partial to fish, but I know in the pits mutton is common. I ordered some in case you enjoyed a more familiar flare.”

He slowly shook his head. “Why are you doing this? All this talk, all these niceties?”

I’m deeply grateful for my skin color, for he wouldn’t notice the flush of shame. He expected something from me. A violent task master and here I was, making conversation about mutton.

“I wanted to get to know you,” I said with a steady voice. “Feels odd to beat you when I know nothing about you. It does little for me when I don’t know you. How am I to know what you enjoy and prefer?”

He leaned forward with flared nostrils. “You want to know what I want? Freedom.”

His words were scandalous at best.

“That’s treasonous.”

He smiled tightly. “So kill me. Punish me.”

Fire erupts over my skin, and I felt myself enraging. “Again, if you wished for a punishment, all you have to do is ask. I may sit here in a fine blue dress, but I can assure you, number Seventy-four, that I’m quite capable of reducing you to tears and whimpers. Don’t test me.”

Magic sparked from my fingers, and it wasn’t lost on him.

He slowly backed away. “Chicken. I enjoy chicken, my lady. And let me assure you, it will take all the magic in your body to reduce me to tears and whimpers. I may cry, but you’ll be dead.”

A knock interrupted our staring game, and I sniffed, lifting my chin. “Come in.”

Perhaps I ordered a little too much for dinner. Tray upon tray is brought and set on the table. Hens cooked in sage, fragrant turtle soup, chilled cucumber jelly, a savory mutton stew, poached fish in orange marmalade, and so much that it covered the entire space. I chanced a glance at my angel-man to find him opened-mouthed with eyes speared on the food.

Good. He’s hungry.

A man his size likely consumed a lot and I wouldn’t be surprised if they stopped feeding them once purchased.

“Thank you,” I said to the servants as they left. Standing, I walked to the table.

His eyes are once more on me, but this time there was no hate. He leaned forward slightly.

“You must be hungry. Why don’t you come and join me?”

He sneered. “So you can feed me?”

I paused and looked him over. “If you would like.”

This placed him in a conundrum. He took a moment, then he stood, the chains rattling. With small steps, he walked to the table. He looked over the food, and I hoped he’d finally realize that I wasn’t trying to kill him.

I moved to take a seat when, to my surprise, he pulled back a chair for me. I paused and stared at him, uncertain of his angle.

He sighed, annoyed. “You purchased a trained slave, didn’t you?”

Yes. I did. Despite the harsh conditions of the pits, the men are trained for many things, like manners, language, etiquette, eating out a woman.

Important things.

I startled when he pushed the chair in, sliding me neatly against the table. His strength sent a shiver of desire through my belly, and I wondered how much he could withstand. The thought of having such a beast of a man rigid between my legs heated my neck and nipples.

Clearing my throat, I grabbed a napkin and laid it on my lap. He walked around me to take his own seat.

“I think you’ll enjoy the roasted lamb -”

But my words were cut off when I was hit harshly behind the head. The world went dark and the last feeling I had was of landing face-first on my plate.