To Tame An Angel: A Femdom Fantasy Romance

CHAPTER NINE

NALLA

Mother seldom visited my estate. She cared little for country life and preferred her castle in Wildon, a thirty-minute hard ride into the center of the city. I missed the castle. It’s where I grew up and where I learned most of my skills. It had only been four months since mother gifted me this small estate so that I may have privacy once gaining my first angel. Which made her sudden visit suspicious, to say the least. I hated my nerves around her, that I’d not conquered my fear over her speculating eyes and judgmental words. A part of me felt she thought I was too soft. And maybe I was. Maybe I should’ve been brutal from the start, but it simply didn’t sit right with me.

With a sharp breath, I entered the small library and found her handing her cape to one of her men, whom she always traveled with. I couldn’t help but study his posture, the hunch of his shoulders, and his furrowed brow. How mother carelessly tossed her cape and didn’t even spare him a look. I should be used to by now how she handled them, how she ensured they are constantly aware of their replaceability.

“Nalla,” she greeted and turned to me with a small smile. It didn’t reach her eyes.

She snapped her fingers, and the man left the room, eyes on the ground. It was not lost on my mother that I studied him. I could tell by the way she raised her brow. Even at fifty-seven, mother was a pillar of strength. She trained daily with weights and at night; she trained with her men. Be it with sex or punishment, her body was conditioned and lacked any softness it might’ve once had. She was pure, unquestionable stone.

“Mother,” I said and went to her, taking her hand and bringing it to my heart, as was customary.

She studied me with a deadly precision. “I heard of your unfortunate incident.”

Right. I should’ve known she wished to come see for herself what issues I was having with my taming. Failure was not an option.

“It’s been handled. I retrieved him and he’s in my quarters,” I stated, standing as straight as I could while still bearing the weight of her gaze.

She took her time responding. A General always did. It’s why she was who she was. She was seldom rash and always calculated. With a slim finger, she lifted my chin and inspected me. It was a task not to yank my face from her hands.

“I hear he’s bedridden,” she said, with a questioned tone. “I assume you did that?”

Right, she assumed I beat him to the point of incapacitating him. That’s what she would’ve done if she allowed a man to live after such an affront. I pulled myself away and walked towards one shelf packed with historical books.

“He did it himself in his flight,” I stated.

She walked around the room in contemplative silence.

“When he’s recovered, I’ll begin his taming,” I assured her.

“Is there something wrong with his cock?” She asked, and I turned to stare at her.

“No.”

On the contrary, Tannor had a lovely, thick cock, which I hoped to enjoy for many years to come.

Mother raised a brow. “Is there something wrong with his ass?”

I saw her trajectory and remained silent as we stared at one another. The answer was obvious on my face and she sighed in deep disappointment. She sat on my leather couch, spreading herself out and making it look like she ruled the entire world.

“It is difficult,” she began and moved her hand about the air. “The first time. A young woman, such as yourself, finds herself owning a strong, handsome man who is completely at her mercy. Many days locked together make room for conversations. These conversations can… confuse the goal of the taming.”

I slowly sat and faced her. She’d provided me with similar speeches before.

“I, myself, fell to such charms from an eager mouth,” she drawled, and her eyes shifted.

She was uncomfortable with revealing things about herself. About my father. About the unspoken past I constantly hungered for.

“Because you loved him,” I said, and her eyes sharpened on me.

“Love is not allowed,” she snapped.

I swallowed and clasped my hands. How was one to control love?

“It can feel like love, but it’s not love. The tender moments between the brutality can confuse the mind. When his eyes softly stare at you with devotion, it can blur everything. When one’s heart is open to affection, it can feel that when he’s in you, he loves you. That when he holds you at night, he cares. But they care for one thing; escape. Freedom. To be rid of you.” She leaned forward and studied me. “You’re not their wife. He is not your husband or even a lover. He is your slave. His cock belongs to you for when you desire it. That’s all. To love will devolve us into what we were before.”

I looked away and swallowed, feeling the sensation of frustration bubbling within me. Wishing to argue and to explain what I’d learned in the past few hours. To challenge these beliefs.

“In the times past, women were nothing but property to the men. They married us, without our consent, for our fathers would sell us. We belonged to them, to fuck when he wished, even if we had no desire for it ourselves. To keep us thick with babies until the day our bellies were distended and needed no more. Then he would find another, younger, prettier girl to begin the cycle once more.”

There was no denying that reality was as terrible as the current one. Yet, I still felt there could be a happy medium.

“Men wish for the control, it’s in their nature. They wish to showcase their strength over us and incapacitate us. This is why they cannot be allowed their wings or freedom. They had it once and abused it. We live in the aftermath of their sins.”

I raised my chin and held her stare. “But how long will they pay for it? How many boys will be made to suffer because of the sins of the past?”

Mother flinched, and she leaned back, her lips thinned. “The boys must be taken early because if they’re allowed to reach manhood, their strength will be too strong. We suffer too in this, make no mistake. No mother wants their child taken, knowing what his fate will be.”

I thought of my twin and his death. How he and I shared a womb, cuddled against one another, sharing warmth and nutrition. I wondered if I held his little hand and whispered secrets to him, never knowing that the moment of our birth would be the last moment I would spend with him and his sweet face.

“Grandmother said I was different because of my brother,” I admitted.

The harshness that took over mother’s face was not lost on me. “I don’t wish to speak of that.”

“Did you hold him?” The words tumbled from my mouth. “Did you at least hold him? Or was he born dead? I wish to know; I need to know. I think about him all the time.”

Mother swallowed, but to her credit, she held my gaze. “I held him. We was born alive.”

She’d never confessed so much and I wanted to cry. A relief. He’d been held and loved, even for a few minutes. A part of me was glad he died. Glad he didn’t end up traumatized like Tannor, never accepting kindness, never believing someone could care for him. We would’ve lived five years together, holding hands and sharing secrets only for him to be taken and never be seen again.

“Was he sweet?” My voice was a fraction of what it usually was.

Mother was quiet for a long time, her throat moving and her eyes softening. “He was the sweetest baby I ever beheld. He had so much hair —” and her voice was lost in silence.

It was difficult to see mother as loving, when so often she was hard. I saw now that it was her way of coping with her loss. I saw she didn’t wish me to suffer as she’d suffered. Though her words denied it, she loved father. I knew in my heart she did. She didn’t wish me to care for the men because she’d once cared with all her heart, but now all that left was a withered woman who forged her curved edges and polished them to stone.

She sniffed with suddenness and stood, sharp as an arrow nocked in a bow. “This is why I worry about you. I worry you’ve taken on too much, which is why I’m here today. I’m taking this man from you. Your sister was right, and I made a mistake believing you could be the cruel taskmaster such a man needs. We’ll find you someone easier, with a mild temperament that would be better suited.”

I stood up with my heart at my throat. “No!”

The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. The thought of Tannor being dragged out of this place I now call home and away from me, after all my promises and assurances, made me feel nauseous.

Mother reeled on me with wide, stunned eyes.

I noticed my mistake and realized that if I wished to keep Tannor with me, if I wished to save him from my mother’s dungeons, I needed to act fast.

“I have a plan,” I blurted, licking my lips and scrambling for an explanation. “He’s grown to trust me; he’s opening around me. It’s exactly what I wish. By tomorrow, he’ll be fully healed and he’ll fall into the false notion that I am nothing but kindness and sweetness.” I walked closer to mother, providing her with a mischievous smile. “And just when he believes me open to his charms… I’ll break him.”

My last words are low and dark, my hope rides on them.

Mother slowly looked me over; sniffing lies and deceit. She’d had her share of liars and lies. How many men passed through her hands and desperately wished to fool her into feelings? She was an expert at mind games. She knew how to make it hurt without inflicting one wound. She raised us as such, and I know all the lessons. After all, the games have been played against us many a time.

She walked to me and slowly clutched my chin, pulling me to her. Her skin was ice and her eyes were dead.

“You have five days, daughter. If he’s not broken in five days, broken enough to convince me, I will personally remove his wings and make you watch,” she said in a low tone. “You are my daughter, and daughters of generals cannot afford weaknesses. Especially cock-shaped ones.”

Life drenched me with cold water. It washed away all my dreams and hopes and I felt the inexplicable need to run away. Far away. To remove his wings would be to kill him. No man has survived the punishment of wing-removal. The punishment reserved for the worst offenders; rapists and killers. I saw it once, when I was little. It was brutal in a way I couldn’t even understand brutality. A serrated saw cut through the bone of the wing. It wasn’t a quick process. It was gruesome. The man was chained with golden links, unbreakable even under their enormous strength. Most men pass out, their bodies convulsing under the agony. Words don’t even leave their mouths because it’s pain beyond sound.

To think of Tannor undergoing the procedure left me lightheaded, desperate to center myself in something.

“Understood,” I whispered.

She nodded and let go of me. Without a backward glance, she was gone.