To Tame An Angel: A Femdom Fantasy Romance

Chapter Twenty-Two

NALLA

The night turned cold, soft winds brought in an unseasonal frigidity, and I was violently shivering by the time Tannor landed us back on my balcony. His skin also prickled with the chill and my mind was already ahead of itself, trying to think of what we needed to take for our journey.

“Let’s be quick,” I said and pulled him in.

But his head snapped up, and he caught my hand, yanking me to him as he cried my name. All I saw was a flash of rope that cut through the air before I could stop it. My body was shot into the room, making me crash against my table. For a moment, all went dark before I blinked up. A terrible noise of a struggle was ringing in my ears.

Tannor was dragged into the center of the room, trapped in a thick rope, handled by the Queen’s own angels. They were massive men, allowed to use their wings, but with a magical golden strap across their chest. Six of them yanked as Tannor buckled wildly, desperately trying to escape his binds.

I pushed myself off the ground–gasping and lifting my hand out to help Tannor, even if I had to zap all the energy from my body.

Tannor screamed, throwing himself around, destroying my room, splitting wood and crashing glass vases.

I screamed as I felt the heat of the magic spread from my heart to my hand when I was suddenly grabbed and yanked up. My chin was grasped, and I was pulled against a hard body. The smell hit me before recognition did.

“Mother!” I cried.

She dragged me closer to Tannor. “Number seventy-four.”

My mother’s voice was commanding. It held no room for questions. At the sound of his number, Tannor stilled, his chest heaving, his wings pushing against the rope which held him. He turned and stared at us. Stared at me in her arms.

I tried to dislodge my mother, but she held me with an iron grip.

Tannor’s blue eyes flickered in horror as mother gripped my chin. I scratched at her hand, but mother didn’t flinch or ease her hold.

“You wouldn’t hurt your own daughter,” Tannor hissed.

Mother’s jaw looked like it was carved from marble. “You dare address me, slave? You’re nothing but a cock for which to ride.”

I twisted as hard as I could, allowing the magic to split me from her and casting a sharp spell against her. Her arm brace blocked it, but her eyes were livid as I stumbled down to the ground, my knees buckling as I lost my strength in my attempt to get away.

Hands grabbed each of my hands and silver cuffs were slapped around my wrists. My hands dropped instantly, casting me helpless as I stared up at mother. She took a step toward me, then with a swift move, she smacked me with the back of her hand. Tannor, I assume, battled, because all I could hear was shouts and chains rattling. All I could see was darkness. I had to blink a few times before I could see anything. I stared at the floor of my room. Blood dribbled from my mouth.

“Bind him well,” mother said.

I pushed myself up in time to see Tannor pinned to the ground. His wings twisted as he grunted and buckled. The Queen’s guards swiftly slapped silver chains on him, capping his feet and hands and then finally his wings.

A harsh sob erupted from my mouth. “Leave him be!”

Mother slowly kneeled to stare at me. Her body was pure muscle, her face, however, held compassion. In her hand she held her long hooked whip, the leather well-worn, pliable from many years of use. The edges had small eagle talons sewn into the pattern. It was a whip meant for punishment.

“No, mother, please—”

“I provided you with ample opportunity to rectify the situation even when I suspected the worse,” her voice was deceptively calm. “But still you heedlessly pursued this technique of yours and look where it’s ended you. Foolish child.”

She took a long breath, shaking her head. Behind her, Tannor was hoisted up and chained to the wall, hooks holding him in place, arms spread, legs spread, wings bound. He was breathing harshly as he met my eyes. An apology was hot in my throat.

“Raise her,” mother said.

Tannor realized before I did what was happening. He screamed curses as I was yanked up, pressed against the wall and my thin gown was torn from my back. The stone was cool against my cheek as I realized that the one receiving the beating would be me.

My breath came quickly as the warriors next to me held me in place, their hands like iron. Warmth seeped from their fingers. They used their magic to hold me down, keeping me in place.

“You coward! Beat me!” Tanor snarled. “I’m right here!”

My thoughts went blank as I heard mother uncoil the whip and snap it against the ground. Mother was precise in her hits. She had many decades of practice. Naturally, my sisters and I had our share of punishments growing up. Never with a whip. Never like this.

“Mother—” I said, but it was slashed in a gasp as the first hit landed squarely between my shoulders. All I felt was a burning pain.

Another hit and I screamed, feeling the tender skin of my back tear open. Tannor mingled his yells with mine, but I couldn’t think. All I could do was feel.

Mother hit me again and again until I had no thoughts in my head. I was swimming in pain and agony, feeling my skin slick with blood. My knees would’ve buckled had it not been for the magic holding me in place.

Everyone was silent, and the only sound was Tannor’s pleas and curses. I had no strength to yell as I slid out of consciousness. It felt like my entire back was on fire, stripped from its flesh, bleeding raw into the stone of my floor.

Tears dribbled down my face as I tried to whisper my mother’s name. Call her, make her see reason. To remind her I was her daughter, whom she held as a child. But she was gone. She was the brutal general leading the hordes of women that abided by one law. One must not fall in love with an angel-man, and I had broken the law.

I lost count of the hits, and it was not until those holding me eased their magic that I slid down onto the floor with a thud. I sobbed, curling my hands into the slates on the ground, slick with my blood.

The room felt silent until one of the Queen’s guards moved to me, kneeled by my face, and lifted my chin. His face was hard, his eyes devoid of any emotion. He’d likely been beaten in the same manner many times. Why should he pity me?

Behind me, mother moved. “Twenty-five hits to cancel her debt. Twenty-five hits for her pardon, as per our agreement,” Mother whispered, her voice shaky.

The Queen’s guard nodded; his lips set as he let go of my chin with detachment. “Her majesty accepts the payment, general. Your daughter may live. For the safety of those involved, she best be locked while we handle the angel’s torture.”

I gasped. “No—”

I was ignored. “He’ll be set for execution by wing-detachment in five days. If he survives The Cleansing,” the queen’s guard said as he stood and glanced at Tannor.

Twisting as best as the pain in my back would allow me, I turned to look at Tannor. His eyes were on me. His face was red with rage or anger. I didn’t know. He looked so filled with sadness and regret.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

He shook his head and slowly smiled. “It was worth it.”

The queen’s guard mockingly laughed. “Haul him out. He’ll change his tune once Angora starts working on him.”

Tannor was dragged out and I let out a scream of despair, trying to get up but falling and slipping on my blood.

“Sentinel One,” Mother’s voice was smooth once more, silken and powerful. “For the wrong done to my daughter and my house by this man, I humbly request to execute The Cleansing myself. I’ll take great enjoyment breaking this criminal. Marking a pattern of stripped skin down his legs and encasing his balls in iron until they purple.”

“Mother, please—”

“Surely her majesty will understand my ire, Sentinel One. No one is angrier at this man than I,” mother ignored my pleas, whimpered against the stone.

The Sentinel, a tall man with golden skin and dark eyes, watched her wearily. Despite his accolades and standing as the Queen’s own first man, denying a woman was something that would be frowned upon. Most especially if said woman was my mother, the General of the Queen’s armies.

“I’m certain her majesty would expect the same level of torture as the one provided by the Master of Pain herself, Angora,” the Sentinel said slowly.

Mother lifted her chin and slapped the blood-soaked whip against her palm. “As she should.”

She cast her eyes to Tannor, who frothed at the mouth.

“Have him readied for me. Meanwhile, I’ll take care of my child and ensure she’s not able to escape to attempt something stupid that would end her dead,” mother sneered and glanced down at me.

I pushed with what was left of my strength up, ready to charge towards Tannor, when mother took two steps and smacked me across the face with the wooden base of the whip.