Dark Harvest

by Anitra Lynn McLeod

  As Loban considered what he would do when the time came, great power rose up in him. For the first time, Loban felt capable of defeating anyone. No more would he be a cowering child, afraid to even breathe lest he draw a bully’s attention. Those days were long past. Now he was a man. Clad in the Harvester gear, he knew this garb would be temporary. One day soon, he would wear the mantle of emperor. No more would fragile females rule the Onic Empire. Loban would destroy the house system and revert to a truer form; only his descendents would rule. To ensure there would be no disruption of his family line, he would have many mates. If they did not provide him with a son within two seasons, he would have them executed.

  His would be a harsh world.

  However, harsh worlds built strong men. If not for the painful childhood he’d endured, he would have grown to be soft and kind, like Sterlave of Gant. Now there was a pathetic excuse for a man. Mated to the empress, but the only one in love with him was his lowly servant Rown.

  Loban paused for a moment, for he didn’t exactly know if Kasmiri loved Sterlave. But how could she? The man couldn’t even fight to protect himself. The night when he’d taken what he wanted from him had been one of the easiest conquests in his life. Sterlave had practically spread his legs and begged for his cock!

  Just thinking of that night, that wonderful, almost endless night, where he’d moved from one perversity to the next, inflamed Loban all over again.

  Now he was ready to take his sacrifices.

  In order to reach the dark gods, they had to change a few basics of the ritual. Neither Loban nor the virgins would have the cushion of estal oil. Only slick massage oil would ease his entry. He would not consume umer to keep him hard and unable to orgasm because that he could manage on his own, but the greatest change of all came with the sacrifices themselves.

  Helton and Ambo had ordered the servants to lie on their backs, nude, so that nothing would get in his way. After prepping them on what to say, they swore them to secrecy on the heads of their masters. They chose only certain servants from the endless hordes that made up most of the palace population. These were special for each of the men and women were virgins. Like his first true sacrifice, Rown, these ungati lived to give pleasure, yet never received it. These elite few had owners either too young to use them or disinterested in using them for penetration.

  The usual progression was from north to south, so he went the opposite way. From the south end of the table, Loban surveyed his sacrifices. All ungati possessed unnatural beauty. Even the strong and virile men were beautiful nonetheless. Each man or woman rested on his or her back, eyes wide, waiting. Only those closest to him could see him. One man and one woman flicked glances at him, then quickly away. When he noticed them holding hands, he hefted the ceremonial sword, but Helton held him back with one strong arm to his wrist.

  “You cannot use the sword on the sacrifices,” Helton declared. “Such would be an abomination!”

  Loban shrugged off his restraint. “That is the old way.” He sliced down twice with rapid strokes, cutting the twined hands off. “Welcome to the new way.” He pierced their hearts to stop their screaming less they start the others to rebellion.

  “Let that be a lesson to the rest of you. Do not defy me. Do not seek comfort from anyone. Only you can help yourself.” Raising his voice so it boomed out and filled the room, Loban bellowed, “The only way to help yourselves is to sacrifice yourselves to me!”

  Helton shook his head while Ambo looked as if he would die of shock on the spot. Instead, he vomited down the front of his elaborate silver uniform.

  Wiping his blade against the black fabric of his pants, Loban returned the sword to the wide leather belt. He approached the next harvest. Tiny, pale, with spun silver hair and deep pink eyes, the woman clearly came from the Ries region. She had been close enough to witness what he’d done to the two holding hands, so she kept hers tightly clenched to her body.

  Loban yanked her to the edge of the table. She uttered a high-pitched squeal of fear that shivered pleasure down his spine. He placed her left foot against the hilt of his sword and the right he lifted until it was straight against his chest. He spoke the sacred words with great care, intoning them just so.

  She answered in a melodious voice, giving him permission to take from her what he rightly deserved. When he shoved the codpiece aside, his cock sprang forward. Somehow, his prick seemed wider, longer, and heavier. He shoved forward into her, loving the way her entire body tensed, tightening around him. According to the old way, he should penetrate once fully, then withdraw, but that’s not what allowed him to tap into the power the gods offered.

  Loban knew he had to force each and every one of them to climax. That is what the gods wanted him to do. He had to take their virginity but also their forbidden pleasure into his soul. Corrupting them from their righteous path empowered him along his malevolent path. Yet he knew fear was not the best way to induce orgasm. He’d gotten lucky with Rown, for he’d discovered what he lusted after in his heart. He couldn’t do that with each of his chosen. Reluctantly, he’d taken Ambo’s advice and would be using pharas gel to compel each ungati’s climax.

  Ambo said the gel was similar to the jaras gel the empress used during her bonding ceremony. Yondies used pharas gel to bring their troublesome clients to climax quicker. They used a diluted amount, but tonight, he would use a highly concentrated dose.

  Once he’d slammed deep, he touched a drop of pure pharas gel to the servant’s clit. Within seconds, she clamped around him, spending her sacred juice along his cock. Once she finished wriggling, he withdrew and helped her from the table. He turned to Ambo and snapped his fingers, pointing at the spot next to him.

  Stricken, Ambo waddled near.

  “Clean me.” Into his shaking hands, Loban thrust the cleaning cloth.

  Caught between repulsion and terror, Ambo wisely decided to do as he was told, lest Loban separate his head from his neck. Helton kept his position at the heavy doors. His gaze tracked everything Loban did, but his ears were listening for the slightest bit of trouble from outside.

  Unlikely, Loban thought, turning to his next sacrifice after Ambo had cleaned him thoroughly. Now that he had the blessing of the gods, nothing would go wrong.

  Down the line he went, forcing each sacrifice to give him their virginity and their sacred elixir.

  Within, the darkness grew until strength pushed out, turning his skin a deep, dark bronze. Where Chur glowed, Loban absorbed the light. When he looked to the side, he discovered he cast no shadow.

  At the last of his chosen, he paused. His hair was silken gold, his eyes the watery green of the Valry Sea. Every turn of his face, from his lips to his nose, was perfectly executed. Such beauty in a man was abnormal. Loban wanted to mar his perfection. If he flayed him but let him live, would his master want him then?

  A whisper in his mind cautioned him. Explaining the death of two ungati slaves would be difficult enough, but explaining the maiming of another would be impossible. Urging him to use caution surprised him, for the gods should be bold, brash, and do whatever they pleased. Caution was for cowards. Caution would not give him the strength to kill Chur Zenge, for that’s what they ultimately prepared him to do.

  As he approached the young man, he pictured how he would decimate his face, yet in his vision, he saw himself. Bit by bit, an unseen hand sliced away his nose, his brows, and his lips. Recoiling, Loban removed his hand from his sword. He was the vessel of the gods, not a god himself. If he displeased them, they would destroy him and replace him with another. However, they understood his disappointment and instead offered him a greater perversion.

  Loban took the last sacrifice, then turned to Ambo.

  “On your knees.”

  Chins quivering, Ambo complied. His thick body lacked any grace at all, as he more fell to the ground than knelt. Loban didn’t care. Once he was on his pudgy knees, Loban stepped forward, slid the codpiece aside, and said, “Suck me.”

  Ambo sh
ook his head violently, then retched again. The stench of his fear and his last meal filled the air with sour shame.

  “You’ll do it or I’ll kill you.” Loban placed his hand upon the hilt of his sword. This time there was no caution from the whispered voice of the gods. This time they offered only greedy encouragement.

  Ambo’s gaze sought out Helton, who stood soldier-still by the doors. Helton’s stolid face betrayed nothing. Not interest or pity. He simply observed.

  Tears fell down Ambo’s plump cheeks as he sniveled his lips around Loban’s cock. Gagging, Ambo almost bit down, but he controlled himself with a quick glance up to Loban’s angry face. Biting the prick of a dark demigod was not a good idea, no matter who he was. Ambo controlled his reflex and began to suck at Loban’s inflamed member.

  For a small man, Ambo had a big mouth. He sucked as if his life depended on it, for it did. Loban peered down through silted eyes, loving Ambo’s revulsion, his terror, and oddly his desire to do a good job. Yes, despite his reluctance, Ambo wished to please his terrible master.

  Loban rocked his hips, forcing Ambo to work harder to keep up with his needs. Every time he gagged, Loban secretly thrilled inside. Gagging caused his throat to clamp down. Working himself in and out as leisurely as he could only added to his pleasure and Ambo’s frustration. Ambo wanted this over quickly, but Loban wanted it to last. And the one thing he was very good at was making his erection last.

  Over and over he plunged into his mouth, and again and again Ambo took it. Greed and a desire to maintain power could do amazing things to a man. Such would make him willing to do anything. Ambo knew the truth; Kasmiri wanted him gone. She wanted new blood, young blood, to help her run her empire. Helton had a plan to keep them all in power, but Loban no longer needed either of them. By this degradation, Loban hoped to show them that now they needed him far more than he needed them.

  When his climax started, Ambo slumped with relief, then worked his hand and mouth faster. Loban thought he’d probably never worked this hard in his pathetic life, not with his soft hands. So smooth was his grip it was almost womanly. Loban grasped the man’s ears, yanked him close, and then came in a great gushing tide. This was nothing like his mortal releases; this was one worthy of the gods. Pulse after pulse jetted from his body, so much so that Ambo couldn’t keep up. Cream oozed around his rubbery lips, then escaped in bursts. Ambo swallowed in desperate gulps, but still the climax dribbled down his chin. Once the last had erupted from his body, Loban shoved the man aside.

  Panting for air, coughing, Ambo scrambled up and away from Loban as fast as he could, lest he ask for another service. Ambo decided he’d had enough and ran from the room. Roaring with laughter, Loban settled the codpiece over his now soft prick. He swung his gaze toward Helton, then the two dead servants. “Clean up.”

  Helton offered a barely perceptible nod in response.

  Loban decided to let his insolence slide. For now. Soon the time would come for Helton to kneel before him. However, it would be more fun to make him wait, to make him agonize over when it would happen. And how.

  Exiting the Harvest room, Loban strode directly to Ambo’s lushly appointed suite. There was something wrong with the vessel of the gods living in squalor when a lesser man, a pathetic excuse for a man, lived in luxury. When Loban found the door locked, he pounded with all his might. Reluctantly, Ambo opened up and gave him entrance.

  It was the last time Ambo made a decision of his own free will.

  18

  Kasmiri awoke snuggled up to Sterlave’s back. His heat enveloped and comforted her. She blinked against the growing morning light. The last thing she wanted to do was rise and face another day of duty, not with all the current burdens crushing her weary shoulders. Closing her eyes, she burrowed under the covers, pressing herself closer to her bondmate.

  With a sigh, he rolled over and nestled down in the covers next to her. In the semidarkness, she saw his eyes were open. He moved his mouth as if to speak, but she cut him off with a kiss before he could. Somehow, whenever they spoke, they ended up fighting. She didn’t feel like quarreling this morning.

  He responded in kind, kissing her hard, pushing her over into the plush comfort of the bed. Playfully, she wrestled with him, wrapping her strong legs around his waist so she could propel him over. Once on his back, he chuckled, surrendering to her without much fuss.

  In that moment she knew she could do whatever she pleased with him. A hundred lusty thoughts filled her mind, each more outrageous than the last. In the end, she crawled astride his supine body, pressing his awakening sex against hers.

  His soft moan was one of agreeable surrender. She echoed it, then sought to increase his torment. Why did she feel such a crazy lust whenever he was near? Even when she was furious with him, she couldn’t seem to stop longing to touch him or to be touched by him. Everything he said or did fascinated her.

  Could it be that what she felt during her coronation was true?

  Kasmiri pushed the frightening thought away. For now, she would concentrate on other far more important things, like making him beg for release.

  Yesterday he’d forced her to spend the entire day with Enovese and then insisted she allow two enormous men to follow her about. Granted, the young men were unfailingly polite to her, but no matter what she said or did, they would not leave her side. Even when she used the basin, they first examined the room, then refused to let her lock the door.

  They subjected anyone who came close to her to intense scrutiny. She pitied anyone who dared to harm her royal self because her two personal guards would tear them limb from limb. From the looks of them, she thought they would immensely enjoy committing such brutality.

  Below her, Sterlave lay utterly passive, allowing her to do as she pleased. She began with his face, placing soft, slow kisses to his nose, his forehead, his cheeks, then finally to his mouth. He rose up then, to deepen the kiss, but she pressed his arms back into the bed to remind him to lie still.

  With a sigh, he did, but she could tell it took quite an effort. Men by nature were not passive, a Harvester even less so. Why did he have no problem bestowing pleasure to her but was so reluctant to accept pleasure from her?

  Determined that he would accept her generosity, she thought of ways to restrain him. Having him at her ultimate control had been the headiest experience of her life. When he’d been strapped to the bed unable to get away, she’d felt such glorious power. He was hers to command. Hers to tease. Hers to please.

  When she whispered to his ear what she would like to do, he grudgingly agreed but made her swear that tonight he could tie her up. She granted his request, then summoned Rown.

  Head down, he entered with the fur-lined cuffs on long straps. With deft moves, he slid them under the bed and slipped the manacles around Sterlave’s wrists and ankles. When Sterlave tested their strength with a sharp jerk of his wrists, Rown flinched and quickly exited the room.

  Puzzled, Kasmiri watched his choppy steps as he left. When she looked down, Sterlave was watching him too. Disappointed that he’d left before she could include him in their play, she turned her attention to her bound mate. Sterlave met her gaze with lowered brows, as if challenging her to use him, if she dared.

  With a flourish, she yanked the covers away, exposing him to her hungry eyes. He flexed his body, showing her the strength of his form, the hard sleek power of his muscles. A smattering of deep brown hairs regrew along his legs, his sex, his chest, and his head. His chin had less hair since he’d shaved for her yesterday. She wanted to feel the rough texture of his beard along the tender skin of her inner thighs and then her slick sex. Shaking her head, she turned her thoughts away from her own pleasure and focused on his.

  What would she do first?

  From the end of the bed, she teased her crimson nail up the center of his foot. He twitched, then moaned. Her guess was correct; he not only enjoyed toying with her feet, he derived pleasure from having his teased as well. Slowly, she worked her fingert
ips between each of his toes, smoothing the slick side of her nail against the most sensitive spot. Bit by bit, his semihard cock rose.

  “I would ask if you enjoy this, but the answer is obvious.” She left off tormenting his toes, then gripped his instep as he had done to her.

  “I enjoy everything you do to me.” He stretched his legs out, settling back into the bed with a groan of pleasure.

  His cock became harder and thicker until it bounced slightly with the pulse of his heart. Her mouth watered with a desire to taste him. Working her way up between his forcefully parted legs, she teased her hands along the soft, short hairs, then stroked her nails along his balls. Switching between the slick side of her nail and the rougher touch of her fingertips caused his heart rate to increase.

  Suddenly inspired, she settled herself on her bottom between his legs, leaned back balanced on her arms, then lifted her feet to the inside of his thighs. He glanced down at what she was doing, moaned, and then a pearl of moisture escaped the head of his penis.

  “Such a reaction and I haven’t even touched your throbbing cock with my feet.”

  He mumbled a swear or a prayer, she wasn’t sure which, but he never took his eyes off her. Desperate hunger turned the golden shards in his eyes brighter, which only encouraged her to torment him more. She’d never even heard of a man aroused by feet, but clearly Sterlave could barely contain himself just at the idea of having her feet near his genitals. His reaction was so profound she knew she’d never look at her feet the same way again.

  Balancing herself on both arms allowed her to lift her foot and arch it above him. Heat shimmered up from him to the pad of her foot. When she held very still, she could almost feel the heat pulsing with the time of his heartbeat. Breathlessly, he waited, his gaze darting between her face and her foot. Ever so slowly, she lowered her leg until her instep curved against his cock. He released a moan that shivered her down to her toes.