The Legend Of Love by Ryan Nan

Author:Ryan, Nan
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-4804-6740-8
Publisher: Open Road Media Romance
Published: 2014-02-04T05:00:00+00:00

24

“MY MASTER,” THE WOMAN softly murmured, “my pale master.”

His long black cape billowing out about him, the Master of the Depths stole silently across the chill stone floor toward his waiting female subject.

With his pearly translucent skin and enormous emerald eyes and long curling hair of spun gold, he was an ethereal, not-of-this-world being. A fair golden god to be worshiped and revered.

And feared.

Underneath the long ebony cape with its flanged shoulders and slits for arms, the golden-haired master’s tall, lean body was as white as milk. He purposely kept it that way. Had his faithful minions spend long hours dutifully sponging his long, slim frame with various concoctions of lemon juice and cultured buttermilk and expensive bleaching creams favored by pampered belles of the Old South.

And he stayed out of the sun.

As graceful as a ballerina, as beautiful as Michelangelo’s “David,” as compelling as the world’s most powerful rulers, the pale master stopped when he stood directly before his waiting vassal.

She was a Mexican woman—a girl really—of seventeen years. She lay upon a bed with her long, dark hair fanned out around her head. She was naked and her bare breasts, even as she lay flat, pointed proudly out from her chest, the large satiny nipples an appealing shade of wine. A fleshy girl, her belly was rounded and her thighs were plump and strong. Between them a forest of thick, dark hair was beaded with the perspiration of excitement.

And fear.

The bed on which the pretty young woman lay naked was not soft. It was not comfortable. It was not fashioned of downy feathers that gently cradled her luscious brown curves. The same height and shape of a regular bed, this one was unique. Unlike any bed in the world.

It was made of pure gold.

Blocks of smooth, hard gold had been meticulously stacked together. Dozens and dozens of heavy, precious gold ingots had been carried from other chambers to this, the pale master’s enormous amphitheater with its high-domed ceiling and its natural half-oval-shaped stage.

A stage where the golden bed was positioned directly before footlights of burning pine torches. Beyond those smoking torches was a congregation of nothing but thick blackness—a vast chasm of darkness. A deep, bottomless pit that led straight to the stygian depths of hell.

The golden ruler of those depths moved gracefully toward the dark-haired naked woman whose brown satin body shimmered in the footlights. She lay prostrate and submissive upon the bed of glittering gold. A lovely offering placed on a golden altar to glorify her god. A human sacrifice to appease her jealous master. A gift of flesh and blood to satiate his satyr’s hungers.

From the flaming torches located high up on the stone walls, flickering light cast shadows throughout the large eerie chamber. It was reflected in the golden blocks of the large bed and in the pale master’s feral eyes.

When the tall, gold-haired master stood at the very foot of the golden bed, he lifted his artistic hands to the stand-up collar of his black cape.

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