Confessions of a Sheba Queen

by Autumn Bardot

  Shani drove into me. She always knew how I needed it. We fucked hard and fast. In moments, we grunted in unison. I clutched her ass and urged her deeper.

  From the corner of my eye I saw Duvsha watching in the stairwell’s shadows. My pleasure spiked and I threw my head back, moaning my bliss. Seeing my orgasm always made Shani climax. I pressed Shani close.

  Sweet Almaqah, I wanted more. Shani knew it. She got on her knees and licked my cunt until my thighs quivered twice more.

  Duvsha cleared her throat a few times before walking into the room. Duvsha didn’t like sharing, but she loved watching. “Prince Yasir has arrived.”

  A prince. Not a king. A son waiting for his father to die. I rolled my eyes.

  “Where is this one from?” I asked as Shani smoothed down my liquid-silver dress.

  “A small kingdom far north of here.”

  “How many hopeful husbands have you turned down?” Shani subdued an errant stray lock of my hair.

  “Thirty?” I looked to Duvsha for confirmation.

  “Thirty-nine.” Duvsha shook her head, her eyes to the ceiling. “And her Excellency hasn’t bedded a single one.”

  “Making trade deals is much more satisfying.” A sudden movement caught my eye. “How did that get in here?” I pointed.

  A hoopoe perched on the narrow window ledge. The sand-colored bird hopped onto the seatback of a nearby chair and fanned its tall crown of pale orange feathers dipped in black.

  “Well, hello.” My body was still.

  The hoopoe opened its needle-shaped beak and uttered a quick hoo-hoo.

  I turned to Duvsha and Shani. “Is he tame?”

  “Looks like it.” Duvsha swished the scroll in her hand at the hoopoe.

  The hoopoe cocked its head but stayed put.

  “Prince Yasir is impatient. He’s pacing the hallway so much he’s wearing a groove in the tile.” Duvsha jiggled the scroll at me. “Here’s his list of gifts.”

  “Give them to the home for orphans and widows.”

  Shani slid five wide jewel-encrusted bracelets over my wrist. “Is he handsome?”

  Duvsha fanned herself with her hand. “Very, and he knows it.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Arrogance is not sexy.”

  Shani tied a wide silver belt around my waist. “What kind of man are you looking for?”

  Duvsha tossed the scroll on the table. “Yes, please tell us. Everyone in Saba would like to know.”

  The hoopoe ruffled his feathers, then spread wide his black and white banded wings as though to show that he too shared their curiosity.

  “If I marry it will be to a man who is my equal or better.” I rose from the chair and approached the fearless hoopoe. If I didn’t know better, I would swear it was listening. I turned about, dismissing the ridiculous thought. “I will only marry a king who speaks to gods. A king who is as wise as he is merciful and thinks not just of his reign, but also makes plans for a thousand years into the future. I have no use for lesser men.”

  “There is such a ruler.” Duvsha crossed her arms. “Or so they say. He lives many months’ journey from here. They say he reigns over a kingdom larger than yours and is so powerful he summons kings from far-off lands to pay homage to him.”

  “Ah, yes, King Solomon. I’ve heard talk of him.” I stood before the copper mirror. “Snippets only. Find out more about him.” I raised my chin and assumed my most beguiling and formidable queenly posture. “Let’s get the meeting with this prince over with before the celebration.”

  Prince Yasir was quite handsome. He was also arrogant, dull-witted, and uninteresting. He spoke through his nose, a nasally thin voice that sounded like he was whining. Not sexy. Or even regal. He snapped at one of my serving girls for holding the wine tray too close for his liking. He was yet another unsuitable hopeful to add to my list of rejected husbands.

  Inner beauty trumps outer beauty, especially when looking for a suitable spouse.

  Needing a reason to cut short the meeting, I rose from the chair. “Would you like to see the source of my success?”

  Prince Yasir’s delicate lips thinned into a flat, jealous smile. “Your grand Awwām temple?”

  “That is a place of spiritual power to be sure, but I was speaking of a place of intellectual and creative power.”

  Prince Yasir’s mouth twitched with disdain. “I heard the harem is now a…” He scratched his cheek.

  “Institute of Culture.” Pride gushed through my lips.

  The Institute of Culture had flourished like a well-cultivated garden in the past seven years. The weeds, those unreliable members, were pulled before their poor work ethic smothered the flowering members. The old harem chamber now sparkled with the effervescent energy of imagination, research, and intellect.

  I held monthly meetings where members presented ideas and accomplishments. I especially enjoyed the argumentative white-bearded philosopher from Greece. He pointed out problems with everything under the sun and above the heavens. He found the tiniest crack in any solid solution. Although I dubbed him the Eternal Cynic, he forced my ministers and me to consider all perspectives and possibilities.

  After a tour of the Institute of Culture, Prince Yasir sidled next to me. “You surround yourself with gifted men and women. Doesn’t that make you uncomfortable?”

  He meant inferior. I read his meaning in his narrow eyes and stiff smile.

  “Quite the opposite. The talents of so many commendable people comfort me. A ruler is only as great as the people surrounding him…or her.” I gestured down the hall. “Faiza, my minister of trade arrives.”

  Prince Yasir was not husband or heir material, but that did not prevent me from improving our trade deal with his kingdom. “Excuse me. I will join you in a moment.”

  As Duvsha led him away, I turned to study a man so absorbed by the rock he hunched over that he was oblivious to my presence. The good-looking Sabaean, from the looks of his attire, turned the fist-sized rock over and over, his finger following a dark line. Intrigued by his utter fascination, I watched him.

  As if suddenly aware he was being watched, he twisted his head about. “Your Excellency.” The rock thudded to the table.

  I pointed to the fractured rock. “It broke along the black line you were studying.”

  His throat emitted a low rumble. “Why? That is the question.” He held up his palm. “I know what you’re going to say. Obviously, the inclusion is weaker. But why? And how did it get into this rock?” He tapped it with a thick square finger and rumbled again, a pleasing sound that made me think of rock-hard body parts.

  “Are you new here?”

  He peered out at me with molten brown eyes. “My first month. I am Raz. My expertise is soil, sand, and rocks.”

  “What do you think about the site for Awwām temple?”

  “Perfect. As if Almaqah himself showed you the location.”

  “He did.” With reluctance, I dragged my attention away from the sultry depths of his brown eyes to the entrance where Duvsha waited with Prince Yasir and Faiza. “Are you married?”

  “No.” Raz shrugged. “I spend too much time in the desert staring at rocks.”

  “Dedication. An admirable trait.” I turned away and joined the others.

  “I know that young man,” said Faiza. “Raz has many virtues.” She tsk-tsked and shook her head. “It’s a shame he is cursed.”

  “Cursed?” Duvsha, Prince Yasir, and I exclaimed in unison.

  “When he was a small child,” said Faiza, “he took a small bag from an old woman sleeping off her drunkenness outside a tavern. The bag contained her magic stones.”

  “A witch.” Prince Yasir stated the obvious.

  “Indeed. When she woke she saw Raz playing with them as children do, arranging, throwing, and banging them together. She cursed him, called on evil forces to see to it his seed would produce no children.”

  Prince Yasir grimaced. “How horrible.”

  “Raz’s parents married him at thirte
en in hopes of proving the witch wrong. Five years later his wife divorced him on grounds that he and his parents kept secret the witch’s curse. Raz did not marry again, although many many women have all tried to break the curse. None have.”

  Duvsha and I exchanged a glance. She dipped her head slightly.

  CHAPTER 41

  Raz stood in the carved doorway of my private second-floor chamber. He stared transfixed, oblivious to the artwork and opulence of the room.

  “Hello again.” I lay on my side, my head propped on my hand, my unbound hair a dark cascade over the naked swells and valleys of my body.

  “You summoned me?”

  “I thought perhaps it was you whose steamy looks summoned me.” I patted the fur blanket under me.

  Raz came forward, stopping when he spied Nasreen curled on a pillow nearby. Tail flicking, her golden eyes tracked Raz across the room.

  “Who is more likely to devour me? You or your leopard?” he asked.

  “Nasreen already ate.” I ran my tongue over my lips. “Have you?”

  On hands and knees, Raz climbed on the bed. “I’m famished. I could eat a queen.” He untied his kilt and lobbed it over the bed. His top teeth scraped his thick bottom lip.

  Whereas Tamsi was all chiseled muscle and Gunnarr a brawny giant, Raz was as slender, lean muscled, and lithe as a gazelle. I captured his rigid cock and tugged.

  “This is a dream.” Raz crawled forward. “I have a confession, your Excellency.”

  “I already know.” I ran my fingers through his silky brown hair.

  “You know that after speaking to you I went to my room and masturbated, I was so horny?”

  “What a waste.” I rolled onto my back and pulled him close.

  Raz set a soft kiss on my lips, his throaty rumble sending heated vibrations through my body.

  “You must give up other women.” My lips whisked across this cheek.

  “I would give up the world to make love to my queen.”

  I melted under his wanton brown gaze. Never had I met a man whose sultry stare was enough to cream my cunt. “I hear you have quite the reputation.”

  Raz rumbled again as his warm soft lips grazed along my neck. “The trick to being a good lover is giving your lover what they want…and what they did not know they wanted.”

  I ran my hands down his back to grasp his firm, compact ass. “What do you think I want but don’t yet know?”

  “Let’s find out.” Raz locked his mouth on mine.

  He liked to kiss. I could tell by his meandering exploration of my mouth. No thrusting, no pushing, just his tongue’s lingering caresses. His lips were pillows, soft and plaint, his tongue flicking across my teeth, tickling the inner corners of my lips, and grazing across my lips.

  I was breathless and my cunt was wet when our lips finally parted.

  “I could kiss you forever,” he said.

  “My other body parts would be very disappointed.” I pushed out my bottom lip.

  “Mmmm, we can’t have that.” Raz nipped at my lips, then skimmed my neck with his tongue.

  I luxuriated in his touch, his detailed exploration of my body. His fingers led the way for his lips and tongue to follow.

  Raz’s unhurried roaming finally reached my breasts. “These beauties require a thorough examination.” The tip of his tongue surveyed my cleavage, nudging into the valley of my breasts. He spiraled around each. By the time he reached my peaked nipple, I was frantic for them to be sucked. I held down his head.

  “Bite it.”

  He did. He chewed on one nipple while pulling at the other. I grinded against him, left my own trail of womanly liquor on his heated cock. I wanted him. Now!

  I wrapped my hand around his hard desire.

  “Not yet,” Raz said through his teeth, which were attached to my nipple. “Slow down, my sweet.”

  “Stop teasing.” My legs held him hostage, his cock sliding in.

  Raz growled his throaty rumble and I moaned with satisfaction at the fullness of his cock inside my nectarous altar.

  “Need some help?” Gunnarr stood in the doorway. “She’s a whole lot of woman.” He sauntered into the room.

  “More than any one man can satisfy.” Tamsi followed him in.

  Raz’s head twisted. “What?”

  I grabbed Raz’s ass, held him inside me. “Gunnarr, what are you doing here?”

  Gunnarr lived in a sumptuous home near the temple. Kill me if you must, my first responsibility is guarding Awwām, not your cunt, he had said when I asked him to live in the palace.

  Gunnarr tore off his kilt, his long cock ready for action. “I hired another giant. Well…” He wagged his cock. “Not quite as big.” He jerked his thumb at Tamsi. “Tamsi and I thought we’d surprise you by having a threesome.”

  Tamsi bounded on the bed. “A foursome will just have to do, Bilqīs.” His hand ran up Raz’s leg and ass. “Nice.”

  Raz rumbled, and continued his slow, rhythmic prodding into me. “Yes…yes.” He shifted position, fucking me on the bed, my legs locked around his hips, and stared wide-eyed as Gunnarr stuffed his long cock into my mouth and Tamsi sucked on my tits.

  The bliss came without warning. My body jerked and spasmed, though my joyful cries were gagged by Gunnarr’s massive cock in my throat. Raz withdrew, his cock sticky with cum, and grabbed hold of Tamsi’s cock.

  “Finally.” Gunnarr swept my hair back from my face. “Your stable of stallions is going to ride you hard.” He slid out his cock, pulled me up, and packed himself into my dripping altar.

  I held on, my arms around his bull-sized neck, my legs locked around his hips.

  “Tamsi, will you do the honors?” asked Gunnarr.

  Tamsi, who was watching Raz suck his cock with a serious expression, glanced up. “My pleasure.” He pushed Raz away and slid into my anal flower.

  I was delirious, weightless, suspended between them, held up by two glorious cocks crammed inside me. I cried out into Gunnarr’s neck while wave after wave of pleasure lifted me into sweet oblivion.

  Raz was everywhere. Caressing my breasts, kissing my shoulders, neck, face, and lips.

  I shifted into a new position. All fours. Tamsi’s cock in my cunt, Raz’s cock in my mouth, and Gunnarr’s fingers—sweet mother of Almaqah—rimming my asshole. I came again and again. Until I had sucked all their cocks, until every orifice dripped with cum, until each one had supped on my clit, and until my three stallions collapsed on the bed.

  I lay among them, sore, satisfied, and sticky.

  Raz stroked my hips, his eyes glazed, his lips curved into a weary, contented half smile. “Your Excellency, forgive me, in my arrogance I thought I was going to give you something you didn’t know you needed. Turns out you gave it to me.”

  Gunnarr grunted and closed his eyes.

  “Our queen is insatiable.” Tamsi fluffed a pillow for me. “All three of us from now on?”

  I gave Tamsi a quick peck on the cheek. “You know me better than that. It depends on my mood.” With so much energy coursing through my limbs, I climbed over Gunnarr—receiving a playful slap on the ass when my knee dug into his shoulder—and left the bed to peer out the slim window.

  Outside, storm clouds obscured the moon. I breathed a sigh of relief and gave a silent prayer of thanks to the gods. I tossed a thick gold-threaded blanket over my shoulders, slid into jeweled slippers, and crossed the room.

  “Where is she going?” Raz whispered.

  Gunnarr yawned. “Fucking gives the queen energy.”

  “Be gone when I return.” I spoke over my shoulder. Sexual intimacy with three men was one thing. Sleeping with them, quite another.

  I skipped down the steps, strode past my lower chambers, and walked out into the garden.

  My lungs inhaled the thick fragrance of impending rain. Soon water would rush down the mountains and replenish the widyan, overflow the cisterns, and fill the wells. The dam level would rise, the canals flow. The seeds would be soaked, the sprouts
nourished, the plants grown to feed a kingdom. My kingdom. My people. I was responsible for them all.

  How could I not meditate on gods and kingdom during such a vital event as the first drops of life-giving rain? I shucked off my slippers and clutched the grass with my toes.

  On the other side of the garden, lights flickered in the Institute of Culture. Artists and intellectuals were creatures of fire. Their fuel was inspiration. A vision, their kindling. Often, their torches burned through the night.

  I strolled through the garden. When I reached the pool’s edge I flung off the blanket and dove in. Total immersion cleared my mind and refreshed my body. I stretched my limbs and swam to the other side. Splashing was a melody; weightlessness, a song. After twenty laps I floated on my back. Despite the cloud-heavy sky, I saw eternity. Despite the darkness, I found the light of legacy.

  There was much to do! New temples to build. New trade deals to make. New roads to clear. A harbor to expand.

  A thick raindrop splashed on my cheek. With it came a sad realization. Another task burdened me. One put off for many years. Each rainy season marked my continued procrastination. I had a sacred duty to Saba that must be fulfilled.

  I needed an heir. I wanted a child to love and nurture as Momma had loved and nurtured me.

  No man was worthy. The kings of nearby nations were petty, ignorant, and shortsighted. I required a great king of a great land.

  The rain fell faster and harder, and mixed with my tears. Thus far, I failed at three vital commissions. Finding a husband, finding Momma’s head, and finding the five murderers.

  All my successes dissolved when pelted with the needle-sharp rain of inadequacy.

  CHAPTER 42

  Duvsha handed her dripping-wet cloak to a handmaid and pulled a rolled papyrus from under her dress. “Forgive me for interrupting your meeting, your Excellency, but you are not going to believe this.”

  I was seated at the table with several ministers and advisors to discuss my latest building projects. “What is it?”