“Then you’ll need to practice so you can do it for yourself in the future,” he murmured. Cupping her cheek, he looked down into her eyes. “I won’t always be here to help you finish, Princess. “You’ll have to learn to do it on your own.”
“Oh, James…” She didn’t want to think of the eventuality of the big Kindred leaving her. She felt so close to him now—the idea of him going away and never seeing her again was terrible!
“We don’t have to think about it right now,” he said softly, as though he was reading her thoughts. “But you do need to practice. Do you think you’re ready to feel pleasure again?”
Rissa wiggled her hips, feeling the heat growing between her thighs at the way he was looking at her, with his eyes half-lidded with desire.
“I…think so,” she murmured, pressing herself against him. “But James, what if I start getting overheated again before I can reach the pinnacle?”
“Then I’ll help you, just like I did before,” he promised. Stroking her cheek, he leaned down and kissed her gently on the forehead. “I’ll be here to help you for as long as you need me, sweetheart.”
“All right,” Rissa whispered. “Then…then I think I’m ready to try again.”
“Here…” James wrapped his left arm around her and turned on his side to look into her eyes. “I’ll help you—I’ll suck your sweet nipples while you pet your soft little pussy. All right?”
“All right,” Rissa agreed breathlessly. “Thank you, James.”
“It’s my pleasure, Princess,” he growled. “Go ahead now…stroke your pussy and make yourself come.”
With a soft, breathless moan, Rissa complied.
25
James had never known that he could feel such pleasure in the pleasure of another. He no longer tried to pretend to himself that he wasn’t having at least some emotions—it was clear that he was. His emotion damper must be failing, just as he had seen it do with other males, back on Zeaga Four.
But he told himself that he couldn’t leave Princess Ka’rissa now. She was still in danger, both from assassins who threatened her life and from the depraved Duke Grabbington, who threatened her future. There would be time enough to go back to the Mother Ship and see Yipper to get his damper fixed after he was certain she was safe and her future was secured.
Of course, along with the positive emotions he felt for the little Princess, came negative ones as well. One in particular, which he thought must be what the humans called “guilt,” felt like a weight on his chest.
He felt that weight most when he remembered that the whole reason Commander Sylvan had sent him to guard Princess Ka’rissa was that he supposedly had no emotions and so would have no chance of forming any kind of attachment to her or wanting to touch her sexually.
But I had to touch her—had to help her control her Heat Cycle before she flamed up and burned to death, he argued with himself, when the guilt emotion tried to intrude on his newfound happiness with the Princess. And he had to keep touching her too—helping her to reach orgasm almost every night.
That was because when Princess Ka’rissa “practiced,” as they called her nightly pleasure-play, she still couldn’t seem to reach the peak of pleasure by herself. After stroking her soft little pussy for a while, she would start getting overheated and then James would have to step in, most often sliding the fingers of his enhanced right hand into her soft little pussy and vibrating her Goddess pearl until she came enthusiastically all over his hand.
This wasn’t his fault—James was certain of that, at least. He had tried every way he could to help her come on her own. Sometimes he kissed and sucked her nipples while she stroked herself—sometimes she begged him to slide one of his fingers inside her creamy channel while she caressed her Goddess pearl and tried to reach the peak.
James was very careful when he did this, but as it appeared that Regalian females had no maiden head to get in the way, it seemed safe to slide his fingers at least part of the way in her tight little pussy, as she requested him to, in a soft, panting voice.
“I keep feeling like I need to be filled there, James,” she would moan, as they both watched him slip one long finger into her hot, wet depths and fuck gently in and out of her. “I don’t…don’t know why. I just feel so empty inside, somehow.”
James wondered—a touch uneasily—if this empty feeling had to do with her Heat Cycle, but it appeared to be completely under control ever since he’d started helping the Princess come every night.
Indeed, Ka’rissa had never seemed happier. She was still irritated that she had to spend so much time with Duke Grabbington during State dinners and the nightly balls, but he was no longer able to force her into overheating. Mostly, she ignored him, saying not a word to him even as she dutifully danced every dance with him every single night.
She had even stopped wearing the ice gel pads over her nipples, which almost never got hot enough to glow anymore. Another thing she’d stopped wearing were the big, heavy wigs. At James’s suggestion, she’d decided to take a chance and go to a ball with her natural hair showing one night. The friendly little maid, Liza, had dressed it for her and since Ka’rissa had such an abundance of long, curly hair, it looked gorgeous. Much better than any of the heavy, fake hairpieces she’d been forced to wear for years, and much more attractive too, as James could attest.
The Court had been shocked at first, but then Lady TittleTattle had written in support of the new practice in an issue of Breadcrumbs and the whole Court began throwing out their wigs and wearing their natural hair. The only ones who couldn’t had shaved their heads in order to get into their wigs more easily. But they were waiting anxiously for their natural hair to grow out so that they, too, might join in the elite new fashion.
“I’ll stop wearing my corset, next,” Ka’rissa told him with a laugh, as they lay naked in the bed together one night—well, she was naked and James still had his trousers on—and read the issue of Crumbs that praised her daring new fashion. “I wonder what they’ll think about that?”
“They’ll think your curves are beautiful, just like I do,” James murmured hoarsely, as he leaned down to take one ripe nipple in his mouth. He sucked for a moment, just to hear her moan, before he let it slip from between his lips. “Mmm, spread your legs for me, Princess. I want to stroke your soft little pussy until your honey comes down for me,” he growled.
Ka’rissa moaned softly and parted her legs obediently.
“Yes, James,” she whispered, pressing her soft little mound urgently into his hand. “And will you put your fingers inside me again? Will you try to put more than one this time? Put them all the way inside me?”
“Hmm…we’ll have to see about that,” James murmured, frowning. He didn’t know if he should pierce her virgin channel to the core, preferring to stop halfway inside her to at least preserve some of her innocence. The first time she was filled to the core and felt a male pressing deep inside her, against the very mouth of her womb, should be the first time she took her mate’s cock deep in her pussy, he thought. And since he couldn’t be her mate, it wasn’t right to take that step with her.
He would have liked to use his tongue on her—like any Kindred, he had the need to taste his female and feel her coming against his mouth. But he didn’t think that was a wise idea, either. During the Claiming Period, when a Kindred warrior took a bride, the next step after tasting her was bonding her to him. And James knew he would never be able to bond her to him, no matter how much he increasingly wanted to. With his emotion damper apparently failing him, it wasn’t safe to let himself go too far with her—wasn’t safe to let himself want her too much.
Besides, Ka’rissa seemed to have something against kissing. She was adamant that he shouldn’t put his mouth anywhere on her body except her breasts and nipples, which she seemed to consider “safe zones” for some reason. So James only used his hands and fingers to pleasure her.
And he might have gone on like that for as long as they were together if th
ings hadn’t changed drastically, all because of Duke Grabbington…
26
Gentle Reader,
What an exciting time we are having at Court! All of the Lords and Ladies are wearing their natural hair and some intrepid ladies have even abandoned their corsets!
This daring new fashion has been advanced, of course, by our own dear Crown Princess Ka’rissa. Who would have thought that our shy little wallflower would blossom into such a lovely, bold rose? Might our dear Princess’s transition have to do with her new Companion, Sir Robot? Or is it simply that she is finally out from under the thumb of the contentious Lady Mildew?
Whatever the cause, this author can at least predict with great certainly that the happy change in our Princess has not been caused by her latest suitor, Duke Grabbington. Regular readers of this publication will recall that the Duke’s reputation is not the best or least tarnished at Court. Indeed, one is tempted to wonder what in the world His Stewardship was thinking when he named the Duke as a suitor for our soon-to-be Queen. For who would want a person of such questionable character upon the throne, even as only the Royal Consort? Not this author, Dear Reader—no indeed!
But never fear—it seems we will not have to suffer such an indignity after all. For somehow the Princess had managed to bring her Heat Cycle completely under control! No longer do her points shine bright and the smell of burning is completely absent from her lovely person. And since there is only one day left in Duke Grabbington’s courtship month, we may assume that the Princess will throw him over soon enough. Indeed, rumor has it that she cannot wait to turn him down. Might this author delicately suggest that His Stewardship take a little more thought before he names her next suitor? Royal blood is not enough to make an adequate ruler and the Princess needs a man who is both her own age and as serious about ruling our lovely planet as she is.
Keep following my Breadcrumbs to hear more as this volatile situation develops!
I remain your most humble and devout servant,
Lady TittleTattle
* * *
The latest issue of the Crumbs certainly had almost everything right, Rissa thought to herself as she whirled through the last dance of the evening with Duke Grabbington. She had been reading it with James before the ball that night and she was glad that the anonymous writer seemed to hold her in high esteem.
What would she think if she knew what you’ve been up to with James almost every night this past month? whispered a guilty little voice in her head. The way you’ve been touching your forbidden places and letting him touch them too, letting him make you “come” all the time…
Rissa pushed the guilty voice away with a bit of difficulty. But really, the things she and the big Kindred were doing were literally saving her life and keeping her from bursting into flames! She told herself firmly that she refused to feel bad or shameful for doing what was necessary to survive. Besides, James was right—it was her body and she should have the right to touch it any way she liked.
Ah, but it’s not just you who is touching your body, whispered that persistent little voice. You’re letting James touch you too in the place that only your husband is supposed to touch you! How can you justify that? Hmm?
On this score, Rissa had to admit, she was on rather shaky moral ground. But the fact was, she couldn’t seem to reach the pinnacle, or “orgasm” as James called it, before she overheated. So she had to turn to the big Kindred and ask him to help her finish, usually with his mechanical hand which buzzed and hummed so beautifully and always pushed her right over the edge almost at once.
Yes, but you don’t stop there, do you? the guilty voice asked. You don’t just come once a night. You let him use his hand on you to make you come three or four or more times each evening. Then you sleep naked, right up against him with his thigh between your legs and your points pressed to his side.
Well, that was true, Rissa acknowledged to herself, as she moved mechanically through the steps of the dance. She could not deny it. But though she herself was naked, the better to feel the contact with his big body, which he cooled every night just for her, James himself never removed his trousers. And Rissa was positive nothing bad could happen as long as there was no kissing and at least one of them kept their forbidden areas covered.
Though she had to confess, she was a bit curious as to what exactly was beneath those tight black leather trousers of his. Often, when he had been stroking her and sucking her points to help her come, a large bulge rose in his crotch, which led Rissa to wonder what was happening there.
This part of the male anatomy was, of course, as mysterious to her as her own forbidden area had once been. She had heard rumors from her friend Alyssa about a “one eyed snake” which men kept in their trousers. And sometimes she’d heard the maids giggling together when they were talking about men and saying “you mustn’t let his snake into your garden!”
But what all this meant, Rissa didn’t know. She had thought about asking James about it, but though she felt increasingly curious, she was also feeling increasingly guilty. She and her new guard were already doing enough forbidden things together—she didn’t need to add more illicit knowledge and naughty acts to the list.
The last dance was coming to an end and Rissa was vastly relieved. Every minute she had to spend in the Duke’s arms was a torment and a trial. Now that she had her Heat Cycle under control, he could no longer make her angry or upset enough to overheat—but it certainly wasn’t for lack of trying. He talked of vile and offensive things constantly and it was difficult sometimes to drown him out, though Rissa did her best, returning his coarse speech with nothing but icy silence.
Still, tonight was the very last night, she reminded herself. Tomorrow was a day of rest with no balls or social functions and the next day she could go before the Steward in the throne room and formally reject Duke Grabbington’s suit. And then she would never have to dance or dine with the vile man again!
“So you think you’re shut of me after tonight, do you not, Princess?” he asked now, as they spun to a finish and everyone bowed to their partners. “You think that ball is over and that the day after tomorrow you can throw me over and reject my suit.”
Rissa inclined her head stiffly, a fraction of an inch—a bow meant to convey acknowledgement without saying anything.
“Yes, that is what you think, but we are not done yet!” the Duke exclaimed. Raising his voice he shouted, “Tell me—who has heard of the ‘Hide and Seek’ dance?”
People stopped bowing to their partners and froze, frowning at the Duke. It was unseemly to shout out in the middle of the ballroom and he was not in the best favor with the Court, owing mainly, to the negative reports of him in Lady TittleTattle’s Breadcrumbs.
But Duke Grabbington seemed unperturbed at being the sudden center of so much negative attention. Indeed, he seemed to positively relish it.
“The ‘Hide and Seek’ is a new craze from the Second Court and only the most fashionable people know it,” he said loudly, smiling around the room. “It’s rather like a quadrille. Four people dance to a merry jig and then—at the break in the music—the ladies run to hide while the gentlemen carry on dancing, with their eyes closed. When the music starts again, the gentlemen must try and find their ladies. And if they do,” he continued. “If they are successful in finding their lovely dance partners, the gentleman may claim a kiss of the lady—on her cheek or her hand, of course,” he added, as shocked murmuring began among the crowd.
At first Rissa hoped this impromptu speech would only make the Duke more of a pariah. But then Lord Buttheadington shouted out,
“I say—that sounds like jolly good fun! Why do we not try it, this, ‘Hide and Seek’ dance?”
Several more gentlemen agreed, which scandalized the ladies into blushing and giggling at the idea that if they were found, they must pay their partners with a kiss. The whole Court—except for Rissa of course—seemed much intrigued. After only a moment of debate, the orchestra struck up a lively
jig and another dance was in the offing.
Rissa could have screamed in frustration. All night long she’d been telling herself that this was the last dance she would ever have to endure with the disgusting Duke. And now he had gone and inveigled another! She only wanted to be back in her rooms with James, letting the big Kindred bathe her and stroke her body until she came for him again and again, but now her pleasure must be put off in order to suffer through one more stupid dance with Duke Grabbington.
“Come my dear—it is our very last dance—you cannot deny me,” Grabbington said. Taking her gloved hand in his, he led her into a quadrille with another couple and they began dancing around the ballroom, though Rissa thought there was nothing she would rather do less.
At least the dance was a lively one, she thought to herself. It was a group dance with lots of ducking under the other couples’ arms and twirling and whirling without touching your partner at all. That was much better than a waltz, which Duke Grabbington always used as an excuse to hold her much too tightly while he said unspeakable things in her ear.
There was a break in the music just as they reached the far end of the Grand Ballroom, which signaled the ladies to run and hide. Rissa shot a glance towards James and saw that he was at the opposite end of the large room. It was a pity, since she would have liked to go and “hide” behind the big Kindred. That way, even if the Duke caught her, he wouldn’t be able to do anything but kiss her gloved hand. James certainly wouldn’t allow anything else.
But the big Kindred was too far away and she knew she would never make it in time. Instead, Rissa ducked behind one of the many vast, black marble pillars that lined the far end of the Grand Ballroom. These were as big around as a man was tall and stretched upwards to the three-story ceiling with the awesome majesty of ancient trees. Rissa had heard it said that trysts were sometimes carried out behind their massive round curves, something which was only possible when the music was loud enough to drown out all other sounds.
Burning for Love Page 17