by Allen Werner
“It’s all yours,” she whispered nearly in song. “Sweet nectar.”
The lizard got right up to the freshness and eyeballed the pink skin.
“Taste it, damn it,” she suddenly commanded.
The little lizard obeyed. His quick forked tongue shot out from between his thin lips and tapped the clitoris.
“Oh God.” Viridian shuddered and her legs quivered. “Again,” she demanded. “Do it again.”
The lizard complied and tapped her again.
Viridian arched her back and slunk all the way down on the couch-bed. Placing her hands above her head, knotting and weaving her fingers into her hair, breasts pressed towards the sky, she moaned restlessly, shoulders rolling. “Don’t stop. Keep going, you bastard.”
The little lizard continued to flick his eager tongue at her moist vagina, stroking the walls, lapping the skin, drinking the nectar.
Viridian was aroused and wanted more. “It is not enough. Your tongue needs to be bigger.” Her mind carried that thought forward and immediately the lizard began to transform, his small body shedding its green skin. A longer, sleeker, more powerful creature emerged. The behemoth was covered in plated dark scales, black from head to toe. The hind legs of the newly birthed beast dug deep into her ankles. She was trapped and started to bleed. She didn’t care. The head of the beast swelled between her thighs, a pair of boney horns protruding from the hard steel forehead. The long snout housed bright and shiny teeth which puffed and breathed hot air inside her. The tongued flicked fire.
Viridian opened her eyes as the dragon roared up over her. She tried to rise and greet him but his powerful front claws suddenly slammed down on her arms and pinned her flat against the mattress. She felt the talons digging into her brown skin. She could not move. She didn’t want to. She was completely at his mercy. She didn’t want mercy. The black beast could do anything he wanted with her.
“Take me, my Lord.”
Retracted wings broke away from the dragons back, extending out around him with a frightful wind, the whole sky going dark around them as if night had suddenly arrived. Two golden eyes shone through the dreadful shade, the dusky pupils peering lustfully into her soul.
‘Majestic,’ she thought, her chest heaving, heart palpating. ‘Terrible and beautiful; an all-powerful god.’
The dragon was aroused and his engorged member touched her freshness, stroking at both thighs at the same time. Her legs were quivering, already spread as far apart as they could go. She couldn’t begin to imagine how it was humanly possible to take the beast in. Still she didn’t care. ‘I want him.’ Her nostrils flared as did his.
“Break me open! Tear me apart! I command it!”
As did the little lizard, the black dragon obeyed Viridian’s command. The dragon thrusted his hips and entered her carnally as flames roared from his mouth and nose, consuming her whole body, encapsulating the lonely, bored woman in fire.
Viridian climaxed.
‘Eight.’
Viridian woke up. She was exactly where she had imagined she was in the dream, reclining naked on a white daybed on the isle of Capri.
She sat up startled and scanned the sheets. No lizards. No dragons. Just her familiar fingers doing all the work, performing a familiar dance between her legs.
Disappointed, she laid back down and covered her face. She closed her big brown eyes and reflected on the tedium. She was weary of waiting, waiting on men, waiting on women; waiting on Rugerius Fabbro. Until recently, the Castellan had been her only real anchor to reality. She was petulant, needy and dreamy and didn’t give a shit about anyone else so long as her needs were being met and satisfied. Rugerius Fabbro understood this simplicity of mind and satisfied her, indulged her, or at least he used to. Since the Castellan suffered a grievous injury, his jaw broken by some headstrong Spaniard eight months prior, things had changed, changed radically.
‘He’s not even handsome anymore,’ Viridian began to think. ‘Ugly as fuck.’ But appearances never prevented Viridian from tumbling with a man, especially one as robust as Rugerius.
‘But Rugerius ain’t that healthy no more. There’s no passion in his fucking. He just uses me like every other whore. No more games. No more laughter and facetious horseplay.’ Viridian had grown accustomed to all the violence, the slapping, biting and scratching, sports of hunter and bear. But now Rugerius was fully consumed by his quest for vengeance.
Viridian didn’t pretend when it came to her place in the world. She had no responsibilities in life. She was free to do anything she wanted. Without hesitation, she started fantasizing again, fingers casually fiddling with her breasts. ‘He used to talk to me.’
There was a time when Rugerius Fabbro enjoyed Viridian’s company. He wasn’t rushed by anything or anyone. If his disposition called for drinking and fucking, smoking and whoring, he damn well did it. And he would do it for days on end, time never a factor. When there were lulls in the passion, something Rugerius would never admit happened, both too exhausted to continue fornicating, they would lie together in bed and talk. Rugerius would talk. Viridian would simply cuddle up under him, wrapped securely beneath his big strong arms, visualizing the day they might wed and she would be crowned his queen.
Most of the topics Rugerius touched on during those private, intimate conversations were well beyond her education. She stopped schooling at thirteen because an education seemed rather pointless. Her libido had been awakened and it nearly always got the better of her. She started touching herself inappropriately in decent company. That turned a lot of people off. It also turned a lot of people on. Her mind simply wasn’t wired for learning or domestic pursuits. And then her unease with clothing became an issue. Even the sheerest, finest fabrics caused her distress.
‘Fuck modesty,’ she declared. ‘I want to be naked.’
It was so ordered that Viridian be confined to her rooms most times of the day since she outright refused to conform to social norms.
Rugerius Fabbro thought this funny for he himself had forever referred to her as a wild lustful animal more fit for the wood than the city. Viridian never argued the point. She was in total agreement. To run loose in the woods, dancing, prancing, fucking at will, no modesty or rules. That was the life.
During the day, when business ventures and Court were being held, no one wanted to be seen with Viridian. She was shunned and denounced. But once the feasting started and the lights went out, when the alcohol flowed and the lovemaking began, everyone begged to crawl between Viridian’s legs.
“I want to be a queen,” she decided with a whisper, her lips all pouty. “That is the only way I can be a lady and a whore at the same time. With power comes respect. Those fools who desire my body for fucking must indulge me and reverence me all the time.”
No one referred to Viridian as a lady, no one except for the young, eager servant girls trained to address her as such.
Viridian looked heavenward and challenged the brilliance of the sun directly. The light never harmed her eyes. She was immune to it. The heat as well. Her buttery, almond-skin was resistant to the efficaciousness, never burning or darkening. She found she could withstand more exposure than mostly everyone.
‘Queen of Parthenope,’ she fancied. ‘I will wed Rugerius Fabbro one day and the people will call me the Queen of Parthenope.’
It was not uncommon for cousins to espouse cousins although her uncle had expressed extreme displeasure with their torrid affair. The aged Commander of Parthenope had brought Viridian into his household to serve respectfully as a daughter. To watch her sink into such iniquitous depravity grieved Gherardus Fabbro at his heart. He refused to look upon her anymore, ignoring her when they stood in the same room. She felt isolated by this. Her parents had died in a shipwreck and having her uncle volunteer to serve as a foster parent once seemed like a delightful idea.
Aunt Bertina was something altogether different. Aunt Bertina was fun. Sometimes, when the segregation from society was insufferable, Viridian wo
uld visit her. Aunt Bertina never treated Viridian discourteously, never referred to her as a whore either. But the poor woman was touched, utterly mad and shunned as well. The only reason the folks at Court esteemed her was the threat of Uncle Gherardus ruining them if they didn’t. That and her ability to read people, see inside their souls and know their deepest, darkest secrets.
There was a peculiar solace to be found in the presence of her Aunt’s dementia. In a matter of hours, the woman could run through a storm of emotions, from sad too mad; happy to content, conversing candidly with disembodied spirits and otherworldly apparitions only she could see. Bertina Fabbro danced with sprites and fairies. She loved to dance. She was wholly numb to everything reality had to offer. Bertina also wore an excessive amount of ornamental jewelry, crystal rings, gem necklaces, silver and gold tiaras. She said they enhanced her connection with the spirits.
Of course, there were quiet days when Aunt Bertina wouldn’t do anything at all. She would sit silent at a table and stare for hours at a set of tinkling wind chimes calling it a chorus of angels. Some people thought that this behavior was spookier than dancing madly.
The days Viridian enjoyed most of all were the days Aunt Bertina lost all civility and went hysteric. They would shed their clothes, hold hands and run through the halls of the palace, screaming and laughing at the top of their lungs like two-year-old’s.
Viridian inhaled an insightful breath before sluggishly rising off the white daybed. She stretched her arms and gold-painted fingernails above her head, bowing her back, rolling the neck, allowing the majesty of her mane the time it required to fall fully down her backside, all the way down to her ass cheeks. Her legs were not particularly long, the only feature she wished she could change. She bent down and rubbed the golden thighs, parting them just a bit. She reached even further, touching the toes, flexing the muscles in her calves.
Barefoot, Viridian strolled across the white marbled terrace to a railing overlooking Tiberius’ Drop. From this infamous ledge, the former emperor of Rome, Tiberius Claudius Nero, had thrown countless patricians into the sea merely for his amusement. She leaned over the rail as she had done countless times before and prayed. She wished this was the day the view of her sumptuous breasts flashing over the rail and towards the sea might entice a wayward merman to rise from the depths and call her to his watery kingdom.
‘Just once, I want to feel the ecstasy and freedom Lady Karah felt.’
Viridian never forgot Lady Karah, nor her strange adventure to the Viridi Mare, Green Sea, with Phorbantia. It was a tale told to Viridian only two years earlier but seemed a lifetime ago. That might have been because Lady Karah died last year. Death always set things further away. Viridian knew this from having lost her parents so tragically.
Karah Grillo was a plump, wasted old woman Viridian met during a drunken orgy on the isle of Levanzo off the coast of Sicily. After enjoying several hours of man-flesh, Karah suddenly grabbed Viridian’s hand and whisked her laughing out of the hall. In the dark of night, Karah ran Viridian skyclad across an open grassy field to the seaside where they climbed three flights of stairs to the top of an old lighthouse. The orgy had been a masked affair so despite all the nudity, everyone’s faces were covered. Karah wore a dastardly green mask with black sequins, molded in the fashion of a kissing fish. In the chiaroscuro of the roaring fire and reflective mirrors, she removed her mask and pulled off Viridian’s red angel mask. She started kissing the young girl. They groped and touched one another, eventually falling to the floor to taste around the world.
The encounter ended with the early morning light barely rising over the horizon. A light chill rose as well. The two naked women stood at an opening in the lighthouse overlooking the sea, leaning against one another for warmth.
Lady Karah pointed to a place just below them. There, in the half light, beneath the rocky cliff on which the tower sat was a beach. “That is where I was when Phorbantia called to me.” Karah’s green eyes sparkled with the memory. “I was walking alone thinking about Sir Manus. He was my lover and had just been killed in Palestine.” Karah touched her short, receding white hair, lost in profound thought.
Viridian was so possessed by the lust of the moment; she had taken no time to examine her new friend. She inspected Lady Karah now, the countenance and body shape. She wasn’t quite sure, but if she had to guess, Lady Karah was no less than fifty-years-old, kind of dumpy and overweight. She was not a pretty woman and from her demeanor, didn’t act like she ever was. Viridian was only seventeen, voluptuous and eagerly desired by all. She felt a hint of melancholy for her new lonely friend. She put her arm around her and kissed her again on the cheek.
Lady Karah continued to recite her tale. “He said he was on patrol when he noticed me. He waved to me and bid me join him. I didn’t want to at first.” She touched her enormous breasts. “Back then I wasn’t the sinfully salacious woman you experienced last night. I was modest and had only been with one man. I laid with Sir Manus before he left.” She turned to face Viridian. “And then the handsome bastard came up out of the water. He was fucking naked., water dripping down his shimmering body, long silver hair. He walked right up on the sand, flexing his muscular arms, his broad powerful chest bulging, as silver as his hair, wholly unnatural - and his erection…” She made a sign with her hands that fisherman use when exaggerating the size of a fish they caught. “His voice went right through me. I can’t even remember what he said. He took me by the hand like I did you last night and led me to the water.” Karah turned back to the Tyrrhenian Sea. “He pulled me beneath the waves and held me down. I thought I was going to drown. He was going to murder me and no one would ever know what happened to my body.” She smiled. “He violently tore my dress off and ravaged me, right over there, under the water. I didn’t even fight him. I just kept waiting for the cool water to enter my mouth and fill my lungs. I was ready for death to carry me away. And then he was all up in my body, inside my skin. His penis pushed up where it should at the same time his mouth covered mine, pumping air through my lungs, hot lustful air.” Karah shivered and touched her breasts again. “Oh God, the ecstasy, Viridian. I was fucking out there, fucking a man underwater. There was no air, nothing to keep me alive and yet I still lived.” She turned her back to the sea and propped her elbows on the ledge of the opening. “You won’t believe me but the son of a bitch didn’t have legs anymore.”
Viridian almost laughed at this but Karah caught her with a firm glare.
“It’s true. Phorbantia was not a man. He was a merman and swam me down even further to a place he called Viridi Mare. There were homes, towers and palaces just like we have on land. He said he was a soldier in this kingdom.” As a sadness overwhelmed her, Karah turned back slowly to the sea so Viridian could not see her face anymore. “We made love one more time and I fell asleep. When I awoke, I was back on the beach, asleep in the sands, nothing but a length of clear green silk covering my body.” Although she could not see it, Viridian imagined there was a tear in her friend’s eye. “I never saw him again. I’ve come back to this beach a thousand times since, wearing only the clear green silk, crying his name, urging him to take me away, drown me and love me.”
Viridian wasn’t sure if she believed Karah or not. Viridian was young and lustful and the fanciful tale of making love to a merman beneath the sea seemed exciting but utterly ridiculous as well.
Karah turned back around with a grave expression. “I lost all my inhibitions after that. I didn’t believe in love anymore. Sir Manus was gone and I was ready to suck and fuck and enjoy my life. Who gives a shit about love when you can have pleasure?” She toyed a moment with Viridian’s long black hair, curling it up in her fingers. “You are so young, so beautiful. Your life is just beginning. How I envy you. One day you will be blessed to see greater kingdoms, worlds you cannot imagine. I’ll tell you a secret. There are people that remain hidden from us because we don’t have the courage to entreat them well.” She hugged Viridian, not as a lover
but a friend. “When your chance to taste heaven comes, go for it, Viridian. Hold nothing back. Embrace it. Make love to it, whatever it is, and let it love you. Being with Phorbantia was the height of ecstasy for me. I will never be so satisfied again, I know this.” She kissed Viridian on the lips and pulled away. “You are special, child. I watched you last night, making love to all those men who worshipped you. I had to know you for myself. I hope, when I’m gone, you will think fondly of me. I will never forget you.” She reached out and brushed Viridian’s chest, once on each nipple. “Tonight, you were nearly enough to make me forget Phorbantia.”
They both giggled.
“You have a talent, Viridian, gods and devils will desire that. Once they figure out who you are and where you are, they will call on you. I know it. They are far more amorous than we humans know. They desire beautiful girls and they will fight each other to fuck you.”
They both giggled again.
Chapter 21 – Queen of Sin
The ocean was active, bottomless waters churning and splashing, spilling over one another, foaming and raging, beating a thunderous roar against the rocky shoreline below Tiberius’ Drop on Capri. The dark and jagged stones of the Faraglioni stood tall to the west. Viridian stared at them cravingly, her distorted perspective of all things erect imaging the promontories to be the phallic heads of three mighty water gods laying supine beneath the sea. She wondered if one day they might rise to pleasure themselves upon the earth, seek women who could fill their wantonness.
After her erotic escapade in the lighthouse of Levanzo with Lady Karah, Viridian found herself doubting less and wishing more. The capricious nature of the gods, their fickle selection of the female species with which to mate and procreate, intrigued her. She wanted to know if they really did exist, and it they did, how to draw their attention. If there were unseen forces operating in the ether, powerful ethereal beings possessing supernatural strength and prowess, she wanted them to come and love her.