“Jora.” Nevia lay back against the pillows of her bed and opened her legs. She wore only a thin, white shift, tied with four white satin bows across her breasts; the rest of the shift was open, with a slit up the center giving easy access to every portion of Nevia’s body.
Jora nodded without speaking and slid up the bed to position herself between Nevia’s open legs. Nevia’s airs trembled with anticipation as Jora, long accustomed to her mistress’s desires, slipped the tip of her thumb inside Nevia’s waiting cunt. Jora did not leave her thumb inside for longer than it took to dampen it. Nevia’s hymen was too important to run even the slightest risk of rupture. Instead, Jora stroked the nub of Nevia’s clitoris with soft, deft strokes.
“Tam.” Nevia knew that her voice did not betray, so far as her slaves could tell, either her arousal or her pleasure, but that did not matter. Tam and Jora both knew their duties.
Tam came forward, his head bowed. He stood at the side of Nevia’s bed and pulled his short slave’s tunic over his head. It fell to the floor, revealing his thick cock, already half-hard. Nevia took hold of it, enjoying its heft in her hands. She knew that the frost of her touch was pleasant to Tam, and his cock swelled. She did not waste time, for she enjoyed seeing the expression on Tam’s face as his cock grew in her mouth. That, at least, was one look she understood. The salty wetness that already dampened the tip of Tam’s cock she greedily swallowed. It did not take long for the thick shaft to brush the back of her throat. With an ease born of long practice, Nevia closed her eyes and allowed Tam’s cock to penetrate her throat.
The smallest moan escaped Tam, and Nevia smiled to herself. She had not called for Tam for a week, and it seemed he had forgotten how very skilled she was.
At that moment, Jora, obviously recognizing the increasing wetness of her mistress, ceased to rub Nevia’s clit with her thumb, instead switching to her tongue.
Nevia responded immediately by pressing her pelvis downward and arching her back. She wanted to give Jora’s tongue deeper access, to feel as much penetration as she could. Ginovae had told her once, in response to a query of her own, that to be fingered while being eaten brought a quicker, stronger climax, but to be penetrated even by a finger was not something Nevia could risk. She was forced, therefore, to make do with Jora’s alternate licking of her clit and penetration of her cunt with her tongue.
Nevia’s nipples ached from her need for penetration, her need for climax, and she looked at Tam, her mouth still wrapped around his cock.
Tam, trained to respond to that glance, obeyed by reaching out to touch her breasts through the fabric of her shift. His hands, the soft hands of a pleasure slave, cupped her breasts with the slow, gentle movements she had instructed him to use. Each stroke brought Nevia to a higher pitch, but her climax was still far off. She took her mouth from Tam’s cock.
“Kneel,” she said. This was a favorite position of hers, and Tam obeyed at once. He moved to kneel beside her on the bed, even as she slid to the bottom of the bed. Nevia dangled her legs off the edge, her glistening pussy wide open. Jora knelt on the floor before Nevia’s open cunt and resumed her skillful tonguing. Tam licked two fingers and placed them on Nevia’s aching clit. By this time, Nevia had undone her laces, and she knew that Tam would recognize the symbol of her command. He bent his head to her breasts and suckled at them. Each gentle pull of his lips brought Nevia closer. His fingers busily rubbed her clit, and still Jora thrust forward with her tongue.
But Nevia’s climax eluded her, and, frustrated, she pushed Tam off her breasts. She was irritated with herself for her distraction. Her mind was still chasing her father’s trail, trying to determine his motives for her quiet marriage. “Lie back.” Tam obeyed, and she noted the glitter of his eyes. She did not usually permit him to climax, but tonight she needed to see his release to have hers.
Tam lay flat on his back, his head propped on Nevia’s pillows, and she knelt on all fours over him. Jora shifted position as well, moving to sit behind Nevia’s exposed cunt.
Nevia sighed in all four of her elements as Jora’s tongue slipped inside her once more. Nevia bent her head over Tam’s cock, flicking the tip of it with her tongue. His hands, laid flat beside him on the bed, jerked at her motion. Nevia opened her mouth and slipped Tam’s cock inside. His hardness hit the back of her throat, and she wriggled forward slightly, forcing his cock yet deeper. Her lips brushed against his shaven pubis, and she saw his hands clutching at the bed-sheets, moving stiffly, as though he wanted to do something else with them. Nevia knew that, of course, he would never dare to touch her, but it pleased her to see her skills so great that she could bring a pleasure slave to climax. She slid upward, pulling her mouth off his cock, then gave it a swift lick from base to tip. At Tam’s slight shudder, she slid his entire length back into her mouth and throat. She continued to suck and lick, matching her rhythm to that of Jora’s tongue, and then it happened.
Tam brushed her shoulder, tapping her ever so slightly. She recognized the signal of his unavoidable climax, and she pulled off him. Just as his cock cleared her lips, he shot thick strips of cum, which trailed from his chest to his belly. At the sight of it, at the recognition of her own power over his body, Nevia finally achieved her own climax, which Jora swallowed, licking Nevia’s pussy until no trace remained.
As Ginovae dismissed the pleasure slaves, Nevia fastened the white silk bows of her gown. She lay back then, basking in the afterglow of her climax. Ginovae, having closed the door behind Tam and Jora, brought a cup of honey-water to Nevia.
Nevia drank deeply before speaking. “Why would my father not wait at least the fortnight until my brother’s return for my wedding? He has waited five years, ever since I became nubile. What is another two weeks?” She rolled onto her side and propped her head on her hand. She had little hope that her nurse would be able to answer the question, but any information that Ginovae might have could be useful.
“Doubtless, Domina, it is because the moons are right. Your womb grows ripe.” Ginovae settled into a chair across from Nevia. “The Dominus came to me last night, in fact, and inquired after your menses.”
“Of course.” Nevia sighed in her earth and rolled onto her back. “He would want to secure his line, even on the female side, as quickly as may be. Perhaps tomorrow, even, Firin will seed me.” Her mind whirled with the potential implications of her new marriage alliance. “Oh, you may wash my vagina now, Ginovae.”
Her nurse rose and fetched a basin and cloths. As Ginovae scrubbed, she said, “Tomorrow, Domina, when you bathe before Lord Firin takes you to his bed, I will have to shave you.”
“Yes, yes.” Nevia did not spare a thought to the formality. Her hymen was intact, and she had no fear of Melenius’s eyes failing to see her virginal blood. It was the potential ramifications of her marriage which filled her thoughts.
Chapter Two
Melenius stood near the low garden wall and watched Judal’s train approach. Slaves and lictors flanked Judal on his white horse. Behind the chief priest six slaves carried a covered litter, and it was the contents of that litter that held Melenius’s imagination. He knew that within lounged a woman of white hair and eyes like the clear, winter sky, a woman whom he had waited over a decade to possess.
Above him hung a ripe peach. He plucked it and sank his teeth into it. Melenius painted a portrait of the Akar maid in his mind, and he amused himself at guessing how much she had changed, how much of a woman she had become since the last time he had seen her.
“They’ve arrived at last.” Garalach was at his elbow, breaking his reverie.
Melenius banished his thoughts of a half-dressed Nevia. He took another bite of his peach, and juice dribbled into his black beard.
“Let me get that,” Garalach said. He clapped his hands once, summoning a slave. “We wouldn’t want you to soil your new toga.”
Melenius smiled weakly but said nothing. He indulged his friend and former teacher, letting him fuss over him. Turning back to watch
the approaching group, he kept one eye on Garalach. Why had Nevia invited him to what was turning out to be a rather private affair? Perhaps it was their mutual connection to their tutor.
“It is a fine country villa.” Garalach walked around the peach tree and turned his gaze upon the high walls of the house.
Melenius was familiar with his friend’s need to fill any silence, but Melenius would have been content just to listen to Garalach’s cascading hair, the way he had when at his studies.
“This is one of Judal’s many villas,” Melenius said, though he did not turn to take in the glory of the grounds as Garalach did. “I'm sure they’re all equally splendid, what with him being the Chief Priest and all. The man is rich as the sun, and I’ve contributed to that wealth with his daughter’s exorbitant brideprice.”
“But she’s worth it.” Garalach’s vehemence surprised Melenius. “There is no more perfect woman in all the republic.”
Melenius tossed the peach pit aside. “The proprietary pride of a teacher.”
Garalach’s rising earth fell flat, and the agitation that flowed through his waters grew still. Garalach, at a loss for words? There was a first for everything.
His speechlessness lasted only a moment, however. “You need to know something about Lady Nevia Akara. She is mistress of both Fire and Earth, but she has so bathed her elements in flame that her fires have turned inward. To see her is to look upon pale, bloodless beauty. To touch her is to touch frost.”
Melenius’s airs stirred in anticipation. “The sign of true elemental mastery.”
“A rare feat.”
Judal stopped his horse and dismounted.
“Let’s go meet the man of the house,” Melenius said, offering Garalach his arm. To walk arm in arm was a Faror custom, and Melenius, though he had grown up among the blond-haired Skenje, had not abandoned his people’s ways.
Garalach chattered as they trekked through the house. “A grand house, indeed. As fine a place as any for the union of two Lorin.”
“Not as fine a place as some.” Garalach’s overly-cheerful tone annoyed Melenius. “The lady is the first daughter of Nirrion, only daughter of the Akar House. She should be married in the great temple of Jehiel. All of Nirrion should have turned out for her wedding. The Senate should have proclaimed her wedding day a holiday. Gladiators should have been eager to spill their blood for her; chariot races should have been won in her honor. Where is her parade? Where her adulation, her flower-strewn streets?” Melenius passed into the atrium, and though he was still in the cool shadows of the house, Judal stood with the bright sun bathing him. “I can only assume that Judal is not willing to part with the coin it would take to do his daughter’s wedding day justice.”
Garalach shook his head. “Whatever his reasons, that’s not it. I’ve never known Judal to do things on the cheap. Why would he?”
Garalach’s rhetorical question niggled Melenius as he watched Judal reach past the curtains of the ostentatious litter and take a delicate, feminine hand. Judal had not removed his riding gloves as was fitting for a man escorting a lady. Melenius smiled; he would not hesitate to press Nevia’s icy flesh to himself.
Nevia emerged veiled as a bride, her countenance cloaked in shimmering purple. She walked daintily beside her father, but her light steps were not borne of a practiced noble gait. As a Lorin, Melenius could see that the ground almost imperceptibly rose up to meet her feet, as if to comfort them. The earth spoke to Nevia and cradled her with the protection of a mother for her child.
A large procession of lictors and slaves commenced, but Melenius kept his eyes on Nevia. He squinted, trying to get some glimpse of her face, but her veil was impenetrable. The Akar family entered the villa, and Melenius bowed to them.
Judal did not return the bow but turned to the shrine that stood near the door. He removed his gloves, wafted incense over his head, and muttered prayers. Melenius noted that a small, wax-splattered statue of Jehiel sat nestled among fat, long, scented candles. Once public piety was satisfied, Judal addressed Melenius.
“I trust your stay here has been comfortable, Senator Firin.”
“Your Radiance.” Melenius bowed again. “I have only just arrived, but I can say that I have never seen a home more perfectly situated.”
Judal nodded. “This is my daughter.” He took Nevia’s frosty hand again, and Melenius caught the flicker of displeasure cross Judal’s face. “Nevia Akara Judal.”
Nevia dropped her knees in a quick bow. What she was thinking Melenius could only guess. He longed to see her face, but he knew he could not lift the veil until after they had spoken their vows.
House slaves brought honey water for their master while Nevia was taken away by her body slaves. Melenius watched her fleeting form disappear down the hall.
“Shouldn’t she sit with us, eat and relax?” Melenius was tantalized by Nevia’s brief presence.
Judal gulped the contents of his glass. “Come with me.” Judal led the way through his villa until he came to a couple of chairs facing the peristyle. “Sit.”
Melenius obeyed, though he chafed at Judal’s high-handedness.
“My daughter will be ready for you shortly.” Judal snapped his fingers at a nearby slave. “Sero, bring the document.”
“At once, Dominus.” And the slave vanished.
Melenius leaned forward and stoked the small fire in front of him with a brand.
“Why have you banked a fire in my atrium?” Judal asked, his voice tinged with the impatience Melenius had learned to detect from humans.
“It is my custom.” Melenius stared into the dancing flames, and his inner elements leaped in delight and were just as quickly soothed by the fire. “I do so in my own home, too.”
Judal shifted in his chair. “The weather is fine, a nice, warm spring day. You have no need for a fire.”
Melenius shot a glance at Judal. “How do you know what I need?” His Lorin longing for fire had been with him ever since his elements manifested themselves in his youth. He was the master of Air and Water. He sought Earth and Fire.
Judal shrugged. “I see you have not shaved for the wedding.”
Melenius ran his fingers across his short beard. “I keep to Faror fashions, Radiance.”
Judal snorted. “Even though you were born and bred in Nirrion?” He waved his hand, cutting short Melenius’s ready reply. “So be it. I have business in the city, so I won’t be staying past the ceremony.”
“Are we having the ceremony at once?”
“As soon as Nevia is ready, yes.”
That was why she already wore the veil. Judal’s haste perplexed Melenius. “No traditional bridal feast? No ritual purifications?” And Nevia’s mother was conspicuously absent.
Judal’s eyes flashed. “My daughter has been properly purified.”
Melenius held his tongue. He said nothing about the half-day journey from Nirrion to the villa. As he looked upon Judal’s imperious brow, he understood the Chief Priest’s disdain. Judal was willing to give his daughter to Melenius; it would greatly benefit the Akar if two Lorin mated. But Melenius was of the Lozabet clan, twelfth in Nirrion. Though his clan was highest among the Faror, saving only the Dukaluhk triumvirs, his blood was not nearly high enough to aspire to the hand of an Akara.
“I see,” Melenius said at last. “So we dispense with the pomp to make this as painless as possible for you.”
Judal curled his lip, another sign of disgust that Melenius had learned humans made. “Listen, boy. I’m doing you a favor by letting you crawl between my daughter’s legs. You should be kissing my feet.”
Melenius checked his rage. “And I do.” For Nevia’s sake, he stifled his anger. There was no profit in quarreling with the Akar patriarch. Melenius turned the conversation to political matters, hoping that they might find some common ground. “I am hoping to persuade Enad to vote for the raising of more legions. I have seen the reports. The war is not going well, and we need to free up government funds in order to fu
nnel resources into the war effort.”
Judal smirked. “And Senator Enad blocks your overtures?”
“He’s got his fingers in so many pies I’m surprised he can even hold the baton when speaking on the Senate floor. I get the impression that any funds used for the war would cut into his personal profits.”
Judal straightened his shoulders, and his tone was mocking. “Equity, truth, abundance, wealth: the civic virtues of our glorious republic.”
Melenius shook his head. Judal spoke of the inscriptions on the four coins of Nirrion, alluding to public officials’ love of money over any adherence to natural virtues. Melenius might as well spit against the wind for all the good it was doing him. Judal held no respect for him, and trying to find common ground with his soon-to-be father-in-law was an exercise in futility. He set his mind to examining a nearby potted plant.
Sero returned with a tablet and handed it to his master. Judal opened it and presented it to Melenius. “Here is your marriage certificate. Affix your seal to it.”
How improper! Here they were sat in chairs in a villa in the middle of nowhere. No guests, no witnesses. Just Judal and Melenius lounging around, casually signing certificates and insulting each other.
Melenius had his seal fetched, and he signed the tablet in short order. As he read the script, his eyes hovered over the name Nevia Akara Judal. For her sake he suffered her father’s insufferable presence. Soon she would be Nevia Akara Firin, the name of her father blotted out.
The subject of his ruminations appeared before him, clad in a simple gown of light blue and smelling of lavender. Though Nevia was still veiled, Melenius traced her profile in his imagination. He appreciated how the dress revealed the curve of her hips and pressed against her soft breasts.
“My lady.” Melenius laid aside the tablet and rose. “I have waited for this day for longer than you know.”
Chasing Earth and Flame Page 2