Carrick withdrew his lips from Samandriel's only long enough to look deep into the wet blue eyes. "It feels good, doesn't it, slave? You must remember how it was back then. Sleeping on beds of thistledown and river reeds. Nights that smelled of pine trees and olive groves and lemon blossom. How long has it been since you were taken by a man who remembers it?" His low, quiet voice seemed both rasping and caressing.
He kissed the slave again, slower this time but aas deeply and brutally as before, moving onto the couch beside him and bending the pliant body backwards to lay him down.
Although there were other furnishings in the room that would serve his purpose - a padded leather bench, a set of cuffs dangling from chains in the wall - this would do for now.
His hand reached inside the waistband of Samandriel's shorts, seeking and finding the slave's hardness.