The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica 11

by Maxim Jakubowski

  Tadashi bowed and moved to where the bottle and glasses sat.

  “Please,” she said. “Allow me. You deserve a rest.”

  “Thank you, Highness.” Tadashi took a seat.

  Using her body to shield her actions, Jingū poured two glasses of sake, careful to keep track of which glass was which.

  She turned and offered him the drink in her left hand.

  When he had taken it, she smiled and raised her glass.

  “To victory,” she said.

  Tadashi raised his cup to hers, uttered an unenthusiastic reply and drained the entire contents in a single swallow.

  Jingū watched him over the rim of her glass. His eyes bulged first followed by a deep red flush that crept up from his neck and mottled his face a deep, angry purple.

  His tongue, the one she’d enjoyed so much, popped out of his mouth, swollen and black. The cup slipped from his fingers to shatter against the floor. Horrible choking tore from his throat as he struggled to breathe. His eyes showed his shock and dismay.

  Jingū waited until she was sure he was dead, then finished the bottle of sake and called her servants to have his body removed from her room.

  The Empress sat dejected and frustrated upon her throne. Eight full moons had passed since Tadashi’s untimely demise and still Korea lay no closer to defeat.

  Her Navy remained in tatters. The man she’d promoted to Tadashi’s spot was a fool, his only saving grace the thick cock he hid inside his uniform.

  Even that no longer held its appeal. The moon had run an entire cycle since Jingū had last enjoyed the pleasure of a man’s attentions. The only thing that would satisfy her now was to have Korea for herself.

  A courtier swept into the room, his air of urgency catching Jingū’s attention. The man bowed, his arms sweeping out from his sides.

  “Highness, there is a man requesting audience with the Empress. He claims to have something you need. He is a peasant but he is very insistent and refuses to leave the palace. Shall I have him arrested?”

  On any other day, Jingū would have remanded the stranger to the dungeons with a dismissive wave of her royal hand. Today was not any other day.

  “Let him in,” she said.

  The courtesan bowed deeper. “As you wish, Highness,” he said before retreating.

  Jingū shifted on her seat, sitting higher with an air of superiority she didn’t feel.

  A minute passed. Two. Shouting accompanied by running footsteps preceded the arrival of her guest.

  Four armed guards surrounded the lumpy shape of a person. The lump moved with purpose and dignity, seemingly unaffected by the strong young men surrounding it, young men intent on corralling it.

  Fascination stilled Jingū’s breath. Never in her memory had someone approached her in this manner. There was purpose that would not be deterred. There was no fear.

  The ruckus crowd drew nearer, the lump materializing into a deformed man in robes. He seemed unaware of the menacing swords surrounding him.

  “Highness, it is a great honour to stand before you.” The man bowed, his misshapen head nearly touching the floor.

  “Who calls upon the Empress with such disregard?” she asked.

  “Only a humble man who has something to offer her Highness.”

  “Your name. What is it?”

  “My name is not important.” The man remained bowed, his posture both reverent and insolent.

  “You dare to refuse an answer to me?” she asked.

  “Who I am is irrelevant. I offer to you the promise of what you seek.”

  “What is it you think I seek?”

  “Korea,” he said.

  “Impossible. You mock me.”

  “No, Highness. No mockery. No trickery. Merely an exchange. Your desire for mine.”

  “And your desire, what it is?”

  The man straightened as far as his twisted form allowed, his gaze settling on her face.

  “An offering to my master. A daughter,” he said.

  Jingū’s breath seized in her throat. Never had she looked into eyes the colour of the man’s before her. Blue as the ocean on a bright summer day, his eyes pulled her in and down, stealing the air from her lungs.

  With supreme effort, Jingū sucked precious life into her body. “You wish for me to grant you a girl child? Ridiculous. You will receive no such offering from me.”

  “You misunderstand my intentions, Highness. I do not want any child. I want your child, your daughter. In return, you shall have Korea.”

  Jingū’s face pulled tight in anger. “I have no daughter. Arrest him!”

  The man’s bottomless azure eyes never left hers even as the guards seized his arms. A small smile graced his ugly face though he said nothing more.

  When he was gone, Jingū fled to the safety and comfort of her room.

  Fragrant steam curled from the surface of the Empress’s bath water.

  Jingū lay submerged to her neck, waiting for relaxation that never came. Korea occupied every corner of her mind and wouldn’t let go. Something had to be done about her Navy. She felt her dream slipping away, each minute another grain of sand through the hourglass. If she didn’t turn the glass over soon, Korea would slip from her grasp forever.

  A strange tickling around the skin of her breasts broke into Jingū’s thoughts. Her eyes opened even as her nipples contracted to hardened points.

  Confusion clouded Jingū’s expression. The tingling in her breasts sprang from the mysterious retreat of her bath water. As she watched, the water level continued to sink revealing ever more of her bare skin.

  She opened her mouth to summon one of her ladies and demand an answer to the disappearing bath water. The yell withered in her throat turning to a gasping moan of surprise.

  Jingū’s eyes widened. Before her startled gaze, the water began running back up her body in slender, finger-shaped rivulets. With a lover’s touch, the water wound its way along her thighs, trailed across her belly, swirled around her breasts. The full force of the water surged into the tub. The sharp tang of the sea had replaced the sweet-scented water, its tidal rise threatening to wash over her face while the watery fingers held her down.

  When the brine reached her chin, it receded once more, the drag against her skin like a thousand tiny flames. Jingū cried out her pleasure and dismay.

  “Please, come back!” she said to no one at all.

  The water level ceased its retreat leaving a triangular pool between her thighs. Tiny waves lapped against her sex sending tsunamis of arousal through Jingū.

  A small shape appeared in the space between her parted legs, darkening the water. The shape grew and with it, the water began to rise once more. It flowed across her body in alien forms that teased her flesh.

  The darkness between her thighs swelled and changed becoming a physical mass, filling the space until her legs splayed wide in supplicant offering. Rising water formed a rip current that sucked at her clit with greedy pulls.

  The shadow spread across her belly, rising up out of the brine. Jingū screamed, terror mixed with ecstasy as the shadow morphed into the fierce head of Ryūjin and a swift stream of water forced its way deep into her cunt.

  Ebbing and flowing like the tides he controlled, the dragon god retreated and returned to fill her. The vortex of a small whirlpool swirled around her clit made Jingū cry out, delirious with the pleasure of his fucking.

  His eyes, the majestic gold of sunset at sea, saw deep into her.

  “The jewels. They are yours for the asking. Your daughter for Korea,” the creature said. “The man in your dungeon is waiting. He holds in his hand the key to your greatest desire.”

  Ryūjin let out a shrieking cry. Below him, Jingū let out her own cry as her orgasm crested and broke. Fiery heat filled her cunt and hot spatters rained down across her skin.

  Chest heaving, Jingū cracked one eye, afraid of what might meet her gaze. She was alone. The dragon was gone, vaporized into a fine spray of salt water. The ripp
les of her breath were the only disturbance in the calm water that was once again sweet-smelling.

  Asleep, she must have fallen asleep and had a fantastical dream. The sensual encounter with the dragon god was surely her mind’s way of inventing a new solution to her problem even if she didn’t understand it.

  Jingū rose from the tub and stepped out. She reached for her bath towel and began drying off, the dream still vivid, her cunt still fluttering with release. Bending to dry her legs, Jingū froze. Her mouth opened with a piercing scream. Thick bluish-black liquid ran in viscous streams down her inner thighs.

  The door to her bathing chamber opened just as Jingū lost consciousness.

  “Highness, the dungeons are no place for Japan’s Empress. He will be brought to you under heavy guard.”

  Jingū frowned in displeasure. “No. I will go to him where he is and there will be no guards. There is no danger to me if he is locked up.”

  “Highness, please—”

  “Enough! I command you to take me to him this instant.”

  The guard bowed in resignation. “Yes, Highness. This way.”

  Jingū followed him into the stinking bowels of her palace. With each twist and turn through the dank tunnels, the stench of excrement and unwashed bodies grew stronger. She gagged and pressed the back of her hand under her nose.

  “Would her Highness wish to reconsider the decision to speak to the prisoner here?”

  “Silence! Or you will join the peasant.”

  The guard said nothing though his pace quickened.

  Jingū struggled to keep up with him but did not ask him to slow down.

  Three more turns brought them to the end of the corridor.

  “He is there.” The man pointed towards a cell that sat in darkness.

  It appeared empty.

  “Leave me.”

  The captain handed her his lantern and retreated.

  Fear bloomed at the base of her neck and slithered down her spine. Jingū held the lantern high above her head but moved no closer to the bars.

  Heavy chain scraped along stone. The man’s strange eyes materialized in the darkness though the rest of him remained in shadow.

  Jingū yelped and stumbled back.

  “I’ve been waiting for you, Empress. Are you ready to trade?” The man moved into the dim pool of light cast by her lantern. “Korea for your daughter.”

  “The jewels, show them to me,” she said.

  “Ah, you know of the jewels’ existence, but do you know of their power?”

  “The jewels, I want them.”

  “And they shall be yours for the price of your daughter.”

  “I have no daughter.”

  “You will. Ryūjin has already seen to it.”

  Jingū flushed, remembering her dream of the dragon god and the thick fluid that had seeped from her upon waking.

  The peasant extended his closed fists through the bars, clenched fingers turned towards the ceiling.

  Jingū watched him uncurl his fingers to reveal one gem resting in each of his palms.

  “I present to her Highness the Jewels of the Tide. Take them,” he said.

  She stared at the glittering stones, one a deep sapphire, the other a murky brown. Jingū snatched them from his hands and turned to leave.

  “Would her Highness leave without knowing how to use the jewels to conquer Korea?”

  Jingū turned back to him, a sneer of contempt twisting her beautiful face.

  “It’s obvious that they are worth much. I will use them to rebuild my Navy to even greater strength, strength enough to defeat Korea.”

  “They are worth nothing. You will not be able to sell them. Ryūjin does not allow the Jewels of the Tide to be sold for something so petty as money. No, their value is their power.”

  Jingū’s anger reached boiling point. “Enough of your riddles. Explain the jewels to me or I will have you executed this moment.”

  The peasant chuckled and retreated into the darkness where Jingū’s light didn’t penetrate.

  “Her Highness must sail to Korea. When the Korean Navy meets you at sea, toss the topaz jewel into the waves. The ocean will retreat, grounding the fleet. When they abandon their ships to attack on foot, throw the sapphire jewel onto the sand. Korea will be yours and Ryūjin will have his daughter.”

  “Fool! It’s nonsense you speak!”

  “Is it? As nonsense as a carnal visit from the god of the sea himself?” His voice floated out of the darkness, growing softer with each word until it faded away.

  Jingū was tempted to approach the man’s cell. She turned and ran instead, the jewels clenched tight in her hand.

  Three full moons passed and with them another setback for Jingū. Half her remaining Navy had deserted when they learned she planned to attack Korea once more. There were barely enough men left to fill two ships. It didn’t help matters that sickness had plagued her since she’d taken the jewels. Sickness and dreams of the dragon.

  He came to her nearly every night, his forked tongue and slick, scaled cock ebbing and flowing into every orifice until she came, screaming, the bitter tang of seawater clogging her throat. Exhausted and confused, Jingū turned to the only person who might help her.

  The acrid stench of the dungeon burned her nose and laboured her breathing. Her physical discomfort paled in comparison to the ragged state of her mind.

  “What does he want of me?” Jingū tried and failed to make her words sound calm and controlled.

  The stranger laughed, the quiet sound rolling towards her. Chills broke out across her flesh.

  “Have you not come to understand yet?” he asked.

  “You do not get to ask questions. Answer! What does he want?”

  “The answer lies in the jewels. They are not yours to keep. Ryūjin wants them back.”

  “So take them!” She produced the gems and thrust her hand through the bars. “Take them and return them to him.”

  The man laughed again. “Impossible. You are the only one who can return them.”

  Screaming her frustration, Jingū threw the jewels into the dark cell and ran. The man’s quiet laughter chased her through the twisting tunnels.

  Breaking through the dungeon’s entrance into her palace, she nearly knocked over a guard.

  “Empress!”

  The guard said something more but Jingū ignored him, desperate in her flight to escape.

  Upon reaching her room, she slammed and locked the doors. Jingū sucked in deep gasping breaths, trying to calm the wild beating of her heart. With a shaking hand, she pushed loose strands of hair away from her face. In relinquishing the stones, would she be free of Ryūjin’s insatiable appetite for her flesh?

  Exhausted, she prepared for bed, the soft, luxurious silks calling to her frantic mind.

  Jingū pulled back the sheet. Her eyes grew wide. Great screams of fear and anguish ripped from her throat.

  The jewels lay neatly nestled against her pillow.

  * * *

  The Empress stood on the bow of the ship watching the Korean Navy spill out from their grounded fleet and fan towards her, weapons raised. A great cry of war rolled towards her across the surreal landscape.

  Heart pounding with fear, she waited, holding her ground against the primal instinct to guard herself from the relentless oncoming wave of danger. Her body vibrating with tension, the sapphire jewel grew slick in her clenched hand.

  When the eyes of the men on the front line grew visible, Jingū drew her arm back and hurled the second stone, her howl chasing it over the edge of her ship towards the exposed seabed.

  The jewel hit the sea floor, opening a small crater that grew and spread, fast and wide. A furious shaking rocked the land, halting the Korean Navy’s advance. The sea erupted from the expanding crater, the force of its return catching the opposing Navy in greedy currents.

  Jingū watched, hands gripping the rail of her ship, as the Korean Navy drowned before her eyes, and felt the first stirring of new lif
e deep within her belly.

  Boston. Breasts. Bohemians.

  Jeremy Edwards

  I was an aesthete, not a power seeker. Why did so many people rush to assume that a successful female entrepreneur was in it for the power? Sure, I didn’t want to be held back . . . but I hungered to express my talents and make a more beautiful world, not to warm a throne with my ass and give orders.

  Likewise with my young men – my bohemians. People saw a polished, well-turned-out businesswoman in her forties with sweet, shaggy boys hardly out of college, and they assumed it was a power thing, or a status thing. Hell, no. It was an aesthetic thing with me. They were just so pretty – not only their baby-faced faces and their silly hair, but also their personalities, all wrapped up in the awkwardness of make-believe sophistication, or brightly bare in their unselfconscious charisma.

  I was never taken with the ambitious ones. Even if they were nice . . . even if I judged that their interest in bedding me had nothing to do with their career aspirations . . . I simply didn’t respond to their suits, their calculating punctuality, and their disconcertingly smooth adaptation to the yuppie milieu of 1980s Back Bay Boston. Damn it, a twenty-two-year-old – male or female – should not look totally natural with a briefcase, I thought.

  No, I liked the guys with the ratty knapsacks. The guys who weren’t sure when or when not to drink at lunchtime; who didn’t see that as cool as their thrift-store vintage jackets looked on the hanger, they didn’t fit right; who still believed, thank goodness, that it was their art or writing or music that mattered, and not getting to the “day job” five minutes early – and who would say so out loud in their cubicles, being too naive to realize I listened from my open-doored office around the corner. They figured I disapproved of their chronic tardiness and forgave them; but in reality I loved them for it. It made me want to fuck them. It aroused what had never died in me, no matter how many meetings I had to take with marketing people and accountants and lawyers: my passion for beauty. And my passion for young men who really, really cared about something – who weren’t, for instance, too occupied or tired or lazy to go see some incredibly important underground band I’d never heard of on a Wednesday night, even if it meant they had to walk home afterwards and get shortchanged on sleep. I had no intention of listening to the latest “amazing” album, but I wanted to know my bohemians bought it the day it came out.