by Penny Dawn
"When it was clear I would refuse you this time, you found a substitute."
"I beg your pardon, Lady Morgana, but what I feel for your sister has nothing to do with the mistakes we made together."
"Take him inside for torture--I mean, questioning." Morgana pursed her lips and crouched at his side, as two knights wrestled his trousers back on. "If they've harmed so much as the freckle on her little toe, you'll pay."
"M'lady, if any harm has come to her, I'll never forgive myself." He coughed, purging up more horrid vapors from his lungs.
Knights on either side pulled him to his feet, and his head whirled. The vomit came then and landed square on his boots.
"You must question the servant Jade!"
"You're in no position to give orders." The lady gave him a minute shove, enough in his weakened state to cause a stumble. "If my sister isn't found by dawn, start cutting things off him."
The knight to his left tightened his grip on his bicep. "M'lady?"
"Use your imagination."
Sebastian hoped the brigade didn't imagine castration, but likely that's what Lady Morgana had intended.
When the soldiers ushered him to Lady Caroline's quarters and shoved him to his knees at Sir Beauregard's feet, his future couldn't have felt dimmer. This guy again. Out of the corners of his eyes, he spied the former duke seated just beyond the vestibule, and several knights searching the chambers--probably for clues regarding her disappearance.
"Well, well. Here we are again." Beau sipped from a pewter mug, then splashed the remaining icy contents into Sebastian's face. "Speak now, ambassador, or you will speak no more."
Sebastian blinked cold water from his lashes. "This is the best and worst trip to Olympia I've ever--"
"I don't care about you, you pompous ass. Where is Lady Caroline?"
"She was stolen out of my arms, sir. If I'd had any idea... She was..." He contemplated describing their physical position at the time of the attack, but thought better of it. "Have you asked Jade?"
Beau looked to where the servant huddled in the shadows. "And why should I?"
"Perhaps he'll enlighten you as to how he found us."
Jade sprang forth and clung to the knight, as Preston rose to his feet. "Please, sir. It was a trick, sir."
Preston pulled the pawing servant off the knight's arm. "What did you do?"
"He told me it was under your orders." Jade's trembling hands cupped Preston's face. "He told me it was the only way to get back in Sir Beauregard's good graces!"
"Who?"
Jade's shoulders slowly crept up, as tears filled his eyes. "They played me for a fool."
"You are a fool." Beau spoke through gritted teeth. As he gripped Sebastian under the arm and pulled him to his feet, he dispatched three knights to the road to Bismalle. "Search the gentleman's retreat on Bismallian grounds, as well as the palace."
"My father wouldn't dare," Preston interjected. "He'd keep her on neutral ground. With the assembly of foreign embassies involved--and he knows it is, given the ambassador's presence here--he wouldn't expose Bismalle as a threat."
"Search the grounds anyway." Beau chewed his lip. "Where else would he bring her? What neutral territory?"
Sebastian couldn't take his eyes from the gilded mirror hanging above the lady's dressing table. Pictures of four women pleasuring Lady Caroline flitted through his mind and appeared in hazy glimpses on the glass. He cleared his throat and warded off reminders of his girl-on-girl dream before they breathed life to his cock. "I know where to find her."
"Where?"
"Olympian Hall, where they're preparing for the masquerade."
"How do you know that?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
* * * *
Lady Caroline stirred. Soft velvet cradled her nude body when she stretched.
Velvet? Her eyes popped open to reveal a room draped in burgundy velvet, the very same room she'd seen in the mirror when she'd entertained three Sebastians.
But Sebastian was nowhere to be seen.
Her head ached, and her tongue and lips felt numb.
The drapes parted. A man old enough to be her father, and dressed just as royally, emerged from the darkness. His skin was dark like coffee, suggesting Bismallian descent.
"Good evening, m'lady." He perched on the side of the bed and brought two fingers to her hair, from whence he plucked a bejeweled pin. "Which lady of Carman are you?"
She shrank away from his touch and held the velveteen sheet closer to her bare skin. "I demand you deliver me to Carman at once!" Her voice, though raspy, sounded with authority, surprising even her.
The aged man neither smiled nor frowned. "Do you know where you are?"
"I suppose I'm in neutral territory, if you're the senior duke of Bismalle. With a diplomat from the assembly of foreign embassies in Olympia, you shan't be idiotic enough to store me in your own land."
"Ah, but the ambassador was on your tail, not mine." The duke pulled a few more pins from her hair. "Tell me. Where is the entrance to your topaz mine?"
"You have soldiers and spies, the same as we do. Perhaps that's a question for your military team. As a lady of Carman, I could care less about where our miners enter and dig, as long as their search is fruitful."
"Do you know what we do with women as white as you in Bismalle?"
She hoped he didn't notice as she swallowed over the lump in her throat. Traditionally, the Bismallian dynasty had stolen and enslaved ivory women and used them as bathers and concubines. Preston's marriage to Morgana was supposed to have proven the end of such practices, thus enhancing the harmony of Olympian lands.
"I see you know." The senior duke drew a line along her cheekbone. "We treat them as your miners treat your caverns. We enter them, dig inside them, and purge them of all their natural goodness, until they're empty inside."
"Bring me a gown, you racist beast!" She scrambled further back onto the bed, which was large enough for at least six bodies. "I should like to remind you of my status in Carman and the dire consequences of my disappearance. The Brigade of the Secret Service will hang you by your testicles should you touch me, let alone enter me."
The senior duke continued to close the gap between their bodies. "I fucked women of Carman descent on this very bed. Five at once. But none as white as you."
Her back pressed against a pillow. She had nowhere else to go, and he continued to encroach. "I thought Bismallian men fucked only other men, regardless of their color."
His slap stung her cheek, but it wasn't enough to shut her up. "He's a better man than you'll ever be!"
"Be a good girl." He yanked another pin from her hair, painfully this time, and brought his fingers to her lips. "Lie down. Take this." He displayed a tiny pink pill.
She shook her head and pressed her lips together.
From four different directions, four women appeared. Three had golden hair and fair skin, yet the whitest had hair of ebony. None of them wore clothing.
"For the last time"--the duke tucked a finger into the sheets concealing her--"where is the entrance to your topaz mine?" He grazed the side of her breast.
She flinched away. "Who's put you up to this? The assembly? Have they convinced you of the need to capture our resources?"
"I don't need an assembly of ambassadors to remind me of the power of wealth." He pressed his body against her, forcing her to her back.
"They're using you as a means to an end." She gasped for air beneath the weight of him. "They'll discard you, when you give them what they want."
He worked his finger into her mouth.
She bit it hard.
"And I'll discard you." He held the pill against her tongue, despite her relentless bite.
She thrashed on the bed and gnawed, attempting to spit out the dissolving pill. The bitter taste of it coated her tongue. His large, ebony finger filled her mouth, and while she despised the feel of it, she soon found herself sucking it for all she was worth. "Mmmm."
She treated his finger as if it were the prize between Sebastian's legs, working her tongue against it, around it.
Pleasure surged in her clitoris, as he withdrew his finger. "More," she breathed. "Touch me."
Her captor rose and headed toward the door. "Get her good and ready for me."
When she registered what was about to happen, she shook her head, seeking clarity. "No!"
The brunette reached her first and took her hand. Her touch was gentle, and her eyes calming. She sat on the mattress and eased Caroline back between her straddled legs.
The soft, black hair of the slave's cunt brushed against the small of Caroline's back, and small breasts squashed against her shoulder blades. Hands combed through her curls in a motherly caress. She whispered in a foreign tongue into Caroline's ear, an ethereal cadence that caused her eyes to close and her body to relax.
Thoughts of Sebastian flooded her mind. She prayed to him to save her, she prayed he'd save himself from the wicked game the assembly had begun. Soon she saw him in her mind and saw his smile as he dipped down to taste the juices of her channel.
The heat of tongues on her nipples jarred her. When she opened her eyes, the duke was gone, and blonde slaves had popped up on either side of her, cupping her breasts and licking her nipples.
Caroline tensed. She did not want to like what was happening to her body, but the strange sensation of feminine touch aroused her in her hazy state.
"It's her first time," one blonde said to the other. They shared a grin and leaned over her to share a kiss. Their tongues tangled together, and their nipples tickled against Caroline's breasts.
The brunette splayed a hand against Caroline's forehead and whispered some more.
A tongue painted her folds down below.
The brunette's hips nudged upward, and judging by the groans following the rhythmic brushes against her back, Caroline knew she was stimulating herself.
Hands massaged her, fingers entered her.
The brunette turned Caroline's head, attempting to feed her a nipple.
She didn't want to want it, but thirsty and aching for something to suck, she took it, and puckered her lips around it.
With the brunette's moan, slivers of pleasure darted deep in Caroline's pussy.
"Sebastian," she whispered against the breast. "Sebastian."
Chapter 9
* * *
"Why didn't anyone tell me they're looking for an heir?" Lady Tiffany burst into the west tower suite, followed by Alexis and finally Morgana. "We could've solved this mystery at breakfast!"
Sir Beauregard resisted the urge to roll his eyes. If he'd learned anything about the ladies of Carman, he knew they shared all secrets, but their presence here would only complicate things. The investigation already bordered on chaotic, and the first twenty-four hours were critical in a kidnapping case.
Soldiers of the secret service were blanketing the area, but with no definitive expectations. The best lead had come from the ambassador, who hadn't made a lick of sense and couldn't back up his story. Sebastian was off on the back of a horse he didn't know how to ride, wearing stained trousers and no shirt--and all because he saw a scene in an ordinary mirror. Beau had allowed him leave, but only with an escort.
"Beau, we know why they want her," Morgana said.
"Ladies, please. I cannot conduct an investigation with--"
"If it's true the embassy seeks an heir, they're looking for a Pearle." Tiffany slammed a thick book atop the table.
"A Pearle?" Sir Beauregard washed his face with humid night air. "Pray, Lady Tiffany, explain."
"According to the prophets, a Pearle is a descendant of the dynasty ruling over the sparkling territory in Olympia--Carman. The Pearle is the last heir conceived before the retreat of the seventeen-year-storm."
"The locusts," Beau whispered.
"Precisely." Morgana took over. "And, if what Tiffany's read is true, the Pearle is instilled with the Power of Locken. There hasn't been a descendant with the power in generations, as we've been a steady stream of females."
Beau fixed his gaze on Morgana's middle. "What does any of this have to do with Bismalle? Why has Bismalle taken Caroline? She's not with child."
"They don't know who they've taken," Jade whispered. "Only that they've taken a Carman Lady. It's only a matter of time before they take the rest of you, too."
The remaining three ladies of Carman grasped hands.
"I should've sired the Pearle," Preston's voice boomed. "That's why my father was forcing the union, why he can't accept my desires."
Beau began to nod.
"If I'd fathered the Pearle, Bismalle would've benefited the same as Carman, but when he learned of my orientation, my father had planned to kill them all, starting with Morgana. With no women of child-bearing years, there could be no conception."
"No conception, no Pearle," Tiffany said.
"No Carmans either." Preston shifted. "Which, considering your father's inability to rule, gives Bismalle reign over your empire and control of your mines. My father could've taken over all of Olympia."
"I beg your pardon, Preston," Morgana said, "but Olympia will never be ruled by an ass."
"Sixteen to four," came a tinny call from Beau's communicator.
Beau banged it against his palm, as its reserve of topaz power was running low. He lifted it to his mouth. "Copy."
"The ambassador was correct, over."
"Olympian hall? Over."
"Out."
"He now has a ripe Carman lady under his wing," Morgana said. "Is he going to kill her? Or rape her?"
"Neither. I'm going to reach him first." Beau hooded himself in armor and spoke as he headed toward the door. "On behalf of the queen, I instill on all of you quarantine. From this moment, until the Bismallian officials are imprisoned, you are to remain in the palace." He pointed a finger at Morgana. "You will not employ the satin slippers, m'lady. For once in your life, listen to the man who loves you."
Morgana rolled her eyes. "Yes, Sir Beauregard. If you'll find my sister, I'll do whatever you say."
He clipped a dagger to his boot. "One last question, Lady Tiffany. What good will the Power of Locken do in the hands of the foreign embassies?"
"None." Tiffany shrugged a shoulder. "The power must be nurtured by good to be good. But if you're asking what evil will come, I'd say plenty."
Chapter 10
* * *
Ambassador Sebastian Vuitton fell from the borrowed horse's back when he attempted to dismount at Olympian Hall. Against advisement of his escort, who told him to wait for the rest of the team before raiding, he climbed the front marble staircase and entered much more quietly than he'd approached. Once he made his way undetected past the group of Bismallian officials in the round assembly room, his shoulders went lax with relief. He leaned against the wall, feeling his heart clamor in his chest like an upset jack-in-the-box, and attempted to draw in a long breath.
However, the view before him stole his chance. In front of an open door, a woman on her knees serviced an older gentleman in regal dress. Sebastian might've enjoyed watching under different circumstances, for the sight was both disturbing and exciting at the same time. Why a gentleman would receive such favors in plain view was beyond him. Why a whore--if that's what she was--should look so sweet did not compute.
"Harder. Faster."
"On my face, m'lord, on my face."
Mumblings of sexual pleasure emerged from beyond closed doors, as Sebastian's feet took him where he didn't know to go. He may as well have been traveling with his eyes closed, as the corridor grew darker with every step.
The scent of sex filled the stone hallway, lingered there like haze on a sultry autumn morning. When he licked his lips, he again tasted the musk of Lady Caroline's most private parts, and craved her. His pole began to harden and an anticipatory sensation spun deep in his belly. How he needed to take her, to make her his own...and he would, if only the opportunity would arise.
"Oh, yes!
But no, no. Please, I beg you. Ohhhhh, Sebastian."
He quickened his pace when he zeroed in on the sweet sound of Lady Caroline's passionate whispers. When he opened the door to a private chamber, four pairs of eyes darted to his gaze, then returned to the object of their affections.
Four nude women, those he'd dreamt of while gagged and bound, surrounded Lady Caroline, writhing and as naked as a newborn, on a bed draped in velvet. "More. More, please, I beg."
What a sight. His heart thundered. "M'lady."
She turned to him. A slow smile spread onto her face. "Fuck me, Sebastian. Put your cock in me deep."
"Ambassador." The blonde between Caroline's legs withdrew and began toward him. In the blonde's absence, a pair of fingers went to the lady's cunt and stroked with precise rhythm.
The sole brunette of the group flashed a sly grin in greeting. Sweat beaded at her temples as she dry-humped against the softness of Caroline's back.
"You're early," the blonde continued. "The masquerade doesn't commence until next month, though I'm glad to see you're"--she stole a glance at his crotch--"up for it."
"Do I know you?" He looked beyond her and inched toward Caroline.
Hands against his bare chest stopped him. "No, sir. But you ought to remember the things I did to you."
He glanced into her eyes and recognized her, but he couldn't remember how. Possibly, she'd sucked him off at last year's masquerade. Maybe he'd entertained her in the back of a dining hall, but he didn't have time to waste placing her when Caroline was in no condition to make her own choices. "She was given brassex."
"And an additional pink tablet." The familiar blonde raked her hand over his groin. "She'll be begging for him long after he's done. Why don't you give her a whirl first? If you're quick, he'll be none the wiser." Her hand cupped his balls now, making it difficult to concentrate. "I should much enjoy sucking the taste of you out of her."
His eyes closed as the image consumed him. Fingers kneaded his testicles, while a fist stroked his shaft. "I should much enjoy taking her." He nearly felt the heat of her pussy surrounding his erection. God, he'd die for a chance to take his time with her. "No."