by Dee Brice
She bit back tears of self-loathing mingled with tears of joy. She could cherish these blissful moments except she’d lost control—of her body and her mind. A warrior should never… Gazing into his eyes, she wondered if he saw how she felt at this moment. Wicked. Wild. Wanton.
Aren had never seen a woman as beautiful as Kel as she came down from the heaven he had given her. Her hands gripped the chaise back, her hair glowed like a sunset spilling over the darkness. Her pink lips were softly parted, her breath shallow pants. Her entire body was flushed like pearls polished to their brightest luster. Her eyes swirled.
“I…would return the favor, Aren.” He must have looked confused because, jutting her chin, she said, “If courtship allows, I’ll suck you. Isn’t that what the woman is doing to Tage?”
“Blasted glitch in the scan function,” Aren said. “Vid off.”
“They both seem to enjoy it. As does the woman sitting on his face.” Looking up at Aren, her eyes a golden-brown, she murmured, “You must have allowed other women to do that to you.”
“During The Choosing, yes.”
“What’s different now? I have…” She blushed. “I’ve never done that to a man but I have witnessed it. And if you tell me what pleases you, I can learn.” When he still said nothing, she sighed. “Last night you said we would share our scents. Was that a lie, Aren?”
“No!”
“Then why not let me suck you now? I can see that your cock needs something.”
Glancing down, he nodded. “It wants fucking. Just thinking about your cunt makes my shaft ache. It wants in your hot, tight sheath. It wants your juices and your milking.”
Her eyes swirling, she licked her lips. His shaft throbbed.
“My mouth isn’t the same as my pussy, I know. But couldn’t you pretend, Aren? I…I want to give you the pleasure you gave me.” Reaching out with her bound hands, she took his shaft in them. Stroked up once then down.
His breath hissed out. He untied her then stretched out on his back. Tucking his hands beneath his head, he said, “Do with me what you will.”
For a long moment she simply stared into his eyes. Then she straddled his hips and began exploring his ears. “It isn’t fair that your ears aren’t ticklish. No matter. If you’re ticklish anywhere, I’ll soon find out.”
His flat nipples rose in her plucking fingers. His shaft rode between her labia. His balls felt so tight he felt they would explode.
“Would your ass like my finger inside it?”
“Not now. If you touch my ass, I’ll come before you touch my shaft.”
“Do you want me to lick your cock, Aren?”
“You know I do.” Blast it! She sounds so damn coy…so shy. As if she’d never witnessed what a woman’s mouth can do to a man.
“Yes.” She licked from his balls to his cockhead. Lapped all around it. Sipped precum from his slit. Unable to keep from touching her, he turned her, spread her thighs and labia and sucked her clit.
Her soft moans drove him wild. He tested her, rolling his tongue into a blunt prong and prodding her core. Purring, her juices flooded over his tongue. Eager to taste more of her nectar, he flattened his tongue then laved her from channel to clit then back again to drive deeper into her tasty cunt.
She seemed to lose focus on what she was doing to his shaft. With harsh pants, she buried her face in his groin. Smelling his cock as if it were a feast, sounding breathless, she said, “You want me to suck you, Aren?”
“Yes. Suck and lick. Do it, Flame. Do me now.” By all the gods, he’d never begged like this. Had never felt as if his next breath depended on having her mouth surrounding his shaft, her hands on his swollen balls.
“Mmmm. You taste a little salty, Aren. You smell like sex. I…oh my gods, Aren, we are coming together.”
Her surprise made him want to laugh. But his nearing climax and her trembling overrode all thought save the pleasure they gave each other.
Her hips ground against his face. He pumped harder and faster until he erupted in her mouth. She made smacking noises, each compression around his shaft milking him. When he could breathe again, he pulled her down beside him, licking his cum from her lips, tasting her sweet juices on his tongue and lips.
Snuggling, she draped one leg over his. His half-erect cock pulsed, making them both laugh.
“It is only that it still hopes for fucking,” he whispered against her soft cheek.
Through her yawn he thought she said, “So do I, Aren. So do I.”
* * * * *
She awoke in total darkness. Odd, since last night Aren had left a nightlight for her. But tonight… Earlier tonight he’d taught her a valuable lesson. Her body craved everything he did to her. He weakened her. Another week or day or minute and she’d lose herself in him, lose all desire to escape.
The darkness gave her the only chance she might ever have to leave him. His gentle snores told her he slept deeply. Cautiously, she eased from under his arm. Groping her way across the room, she found the clothing they’d discarded earlier. She gathered them to her chest and tiptoed out of the sleeping room. She’d sort through the clothes then dress once she was safely away.
When he’d taken her to The Choosing, she’d counted their paces down each hallway leading to the outside. As long as she focused and didn’t lose track, she’d be fine. Once she escaped, she’d find someplace to hide. The Herald appealed. Sooner or later Tage would finish with his princesses and head out for somewhere. She’d convince him to take her home—even if she had to threaten his personal wealth.
Using touch, she figured out which cape was hers. Donning it, she placed her left hand on the wall and started to count. At five hundred paces, she felt a shiver of doubt that made her breath hitch and her heartbeat quicken. By now she should have reached the intersecting hallway that led to the outside doors. Knowing she hadn’t passed it, she crept along until her hand groped open air.
“Ahh,” she sighed, just as the lights in both corridors blinked on.
“Ah ha!” Aren crowed, grasping Kel’s arm and hauling her back to his sleep room. Once there, he tied her to a convenient decorative column.
Knowing protest was futile, she didn’t bother to swear at him. She did test her bindings and silently cursed him for tying her so securely. Under other circumstances she might confess admiration for his skill. But when he left her, Kel shouted and fought to get free. Fearing he intended to punish Drew instead of her, she cursed, made promises she never intended to keep and cursed until she went hoarse.
In the morning he freed her and went about courting her as if nothing had happened. Even Drew treated Kel as if she probably hadn’t taken a beating on Kel’s behalf.
Either Ondricans were truly strange or Kel’s imagination had conjured monsters. Given the stories she’d heard as a child about her grandmother personally whipping reluctant lovers—something Basalia had made illegal—Kel bet on her imagination. And sighed in relief.
But last night, when Aren courted her, he’d had a similar expression of…what? A little lost, very relaxed and even wanton. Had he lost control as well? Had she done to him what he’d done to her? Could she use his lust to convince him to let her go?
Chapter Five
Over the next week, Kel learned so much about Ondrican courtship she thought she might never walk again. When they awakened in the morning, Aren carried her to their bath, his fingers deep inside her pussy. He kept them there while, one-handed, he bathed her, licking and sucking her nipples until she screamed his name and her pussy clenched his fingers.
She ate perched upon his lap. If her back rested against his chest, he toyed with her breasts and nipples until she came. If she straddled him, he licked and sucked, stroked and massaged them until she reached her peak. Always crying his name.
The chaise became a favorite trysting place. There, Aren spooned her body, using his thighs to hold her legs apart. He stroked her clit until she begged him to finger-fuck her. Sometimes, he only held her while they
watched the princesses and their men mate. Often only one man shared a bed with the woman. And yet it seemed to Kel that just as often both men were with her.
“If you would let me bring Tage here, you could have those pleasures. He could kiss you, stroke and suckle your breasts while I drink your juices from your delicious cunt. He could fuck your ass while I fuck your slick cunt.”
She could imagine it. Far too easily. “If I am truly your wife, why would you share me? And why—when the princesses are allowed to choose—won’t you grant me choices?”
It was difficult to ask when they were sucking each other, but she’d learned to space the words between Aren’s thrusts and retreats. And he seemed to like the gentle pressure of her teeth when she talked.
“I would share you to bring you greater pleasure. I don’t grant you choice because I don’t trust any man but Tage to leave your cunt for me to fuck.”
“Even if it pleased me to be pussy-fucked by another man?”
“You are my wife.”
They inevitably ended the argument where it began. When they argued, Aren would leave on some errand or other. Sulking, imagining him mating with another, Kel endured Drew’s prattling while the girl dressed her hair.
Jealousy is a bitch! One she should ignore. But this whole courtship ritual seemed yet another means to control her. As if Aren and every other man on Ondrican thought sex the be-all, end-all. That if a woman believed only one man—or two—could give her pleasure, she would behave just as he, or they, wanted. A more pleasant way of obtaining obedience than a beating, while still gaining the upper hand.
What Aren failed to recognize was that lust was a double-edged sword. One that she would use to free herself from this unwanted marriage.
“There,” Drew said, patting a final curl into place. “You look beautiful, Kel.”
Drawn from her own thoughts Kel complained, “It does little good, Drew, to make my hair look so lovely. It’s the first thing Aren musses when he returns.”
“Not today,” Aren announced, striding into the room, a smile so wide it made Kel’s jaws ache. “Here.” He plopped a large box in her lap.
“Shall I pack now, Aren?” Drew seemed anxious to leave, shifting her weight from foot to foot.
“Yes. And be sure to bring Kel’s green sarong.”
With Aren’s nod, Drew scampered away.
“Are you going to open the present?” He looked and sounded like a kid at Gavigainm, an occasion when Amazonians exchanged presents and feasted all day.
She stared at the package. Foil-wrapped in swirling colors of pinks and oranges and emoln, an enormous bow festooned the lid.
“I haven’t a gift for you, Aren.”
“Why would you? It isn’t my birthday.”
“Oh! I had forgotten. Oh…how did you—?” Unwilling to let him see how his thoughtfulness affected her, she fiddled with the bow.
“How old are you today, Flame?”
“Twenty-two—if you count the months in my mother’s womb.”
“If that is how you count on Amazonia, that is how I shall count. Open it.”
“It’s so beautiful, I don’t want to ruin the paper.”
“Here. I’ll do it.” He produced a dagger. With a quick slice the wrapping draped over her lap. The bright pink inside the wrapping made her a little dizzy. Before she’d drawn a breath, Aren tucked the bow behind her left ear.
“Leave it,” he ordered, guiding her hands and helping her lift off the box lid.
A swirl of blue-green and red-gold fabric gleamed up at her. “Oh my,” she sighed, lifting it up to hold against her chest. Soft as a zephyr, it shimmered over her skin. “It’s beautiful. Tak, Aren.”
“There is more.” Digging deeper, he produced two additional garments—one a formfitting, sleeveless vest that resembled his own black one. The second, a pair of trousers that might cover from her navel to her knees. Both were of a soft as silk leather-like forest green material. A pair of matching boots appeared as if conjured by a master magician.
Stroking the soft material, she met his eager gaze. “They’re lovely.”
“Put them on now. We’re going to the country.”
“The country? As in real horses and bare riding?” By the Goddess, don’t sound so excited! He’ll think I’m imagining mating while we ride.
“Yes, the country. Away from Storr’s daily questions as to our courtship’s status. Away from vids that make me wonder what arouses you—the ménages or me.”
You do. Kel could have told him then and there. But deprived of choices, a woman had the right to keep some secrets.
While she dressed, Aren paced the room. He seemed more anxious than usual for her to hurry. She’d just finished drawing on her boots when he grabbed her hand. Running together, laughing like children freed from school, they raced outside.
Kel had barely recovered her breath when Aren lifted her to the wide, horse-like back of a pegagryph. Leaping up behind her, he fastened them both into the saddle. Making clicking sounds, he urged the great beast skyward. Silvery wings tipped with gold-brown fur spread at its sides. A single pumping of its wings took them high above Storr City. Soon even the turrets of Castle Storr looked like a child’s blocks. Usually afraid of heights, Kel reveled in the feeling of utter peace and nearly soundless solitude. A gentle breeze ruffled her hair, a soft soughing.
The cityscape disappeared, giving way to fertile green and gold fields.
“Crops to feed our animals. Grains to make our bread,” Aren explained, his voice its normal volume despite the rushing wind.
“And forests. The trees are enormous.” Except in Amazonia’s swamps she’d never seen any so tall or round. Basalia could have a dozen houses built from just one Ondrican tree.
Aren made a chuckling sound and the pegagryph swooped lower.
Feeling like she’d left her stomach in the clouds, Kel cried out and clutched Aren’s forearms wreathed around her waist. Realizing they were safely above the soaring treetops, she said, “I feel like I can touch the highest branches.”
“Do you want to?”
“No!” If they flew lower the limbs might tear them from the saddle, leaving them to break bones as they fell. They could die.
“Warm enough?”
“Yes. So long as your arms remain around me, warm enough and safe.” Snuggling closer, she sighed. “What smells so good?”
“A little of this. Some of that. If you like the scents up here, you’ll love my gardens.”
“I’m sure I will. How long before we reach them?”
“Not long. See where the trees end and the snow begins? See that tiny spot of blue? When that spot looks as big as the lake it is, we’re there.”
She gradually became aware that they were gliding in circles. As they flew lower, individual trees stood out—even those growing in copses, their silvery bark mirror-bright in the lowering sun. The mountains’ white-capped peaks cast gold and red shadows over the valleys below. The lake seemed to cover almost everything else. Clinging to Aren’s forearms, she expected a watery landing and braced for it.
The pegagryph landed like a mother’s hand stroking her babe’s cheek. Turning its massive horse head, it snorted. To Kel’s delight, it sounded like laughter and its bright brown gaze seemed to smile.
When Aren set her on her feet, she made a small half-bow, saying, “Tak. It was a glorious trip.”
The horse furled its wings then sat upon its lion-like hindquarters. Its whip-like tail twitched from side to side. Kel stepped back, fearing the tail might lash her.
“He wants his treat,” Aren said, plucking a round purple fruit from his vest. “Want to feed him?”
“Oh yes. He won’t bite me, will he?”
“Only if you bite him first. Put the plape in the palm of your hand. Perfect.”
Baring its teeth, the pegagryph sniffed her hand. Then its tongue darted out, lifting the fruit delicately, like Kel imagined a lady selecting dainty teacakes would. It seemed not
to chew at all, returning its velvet soft nose to her palm and snorting at finding nothing.
“Come along, Peg. More’s in your barn.”
Peg sort of growl-purred but followed Aren like a puppy on a leash.
“Too many animals,” Kel said to herself, thinking about lions and horses and dogs as she trailed along behind but to one side. She wouldn’t risk her new boots if Peg dumped like a horse. Obeying Aren’s signal to wait, she stopped outside the barn doors and watched another pegagryph land a short distance away. Drew dismounted.
Aren came outside again just as the girl raced up. A very young pegagryph trotted at her side. Without prompting, it went into the barn.
“I put everything inside. May I go see Laurette now?”
“Yes. You may stay three days—if her mother can stand you that long.”
“Tak, Aren.” She started off but suddenly stopped. “Can you do your hair, Kel?”
“I believe so. If not, Aren will help me. Won’t you?”
“Yes,” he said to Drew. To Kel he muttered, “Until I muss it again. Be gone, child, lest you lose your way in the dark.”
Laughing, Drew scampered away, the other adult pegagryph following her.
Kel turned toward the lodge. “By the gods, your house is on fire!”
Aren caught Kel’s hand. “It is only candlelight. Surely you have candles on Amazonia.”
“Energy powered, yes. Not those that flicker like real fire. Our buildings are made of wood. During dry times we must take care not to burn ourselves to the ground.”
“And when it’s wet?”
“We lash the beams together to make rafts and float to higher ground.”
His soft laugh made her stop mid-stride. “You don’t laugh enough, Aren.”
“Neither do you.” He looked up. “Five moons circle Ondrican. Tonight we have the crescent. She’ll remain with us a few days longer. Her older sister, half-moon, will light our paths for a week or so.”