She clicked her fingers. “Gosha.”
Her daughter came running to her side. The skip stepped down the dais to let her daughter past.
“Escort our skip around the hive,” she whispered in her daughter’s pink ear, its blue speckles glinting. “You know to avoid the blood flower room. If he tries to go where he is not welcome, you have my permission to restrain him…but do not harm him. You have a habit of breaking these fragile brown-eyed people. I need this one, so be careful with him.” Grietum reached out and gently pinched Gosha’s speckled cheek.
“Yes, Mother.” She dipped her head and walked down the dais.
The skip clapped and rubbed his hands together, announcing, “I will leave as soon as we’re done.” Grietum noticed he was not distracted by her daughter’s breasts like most other males were. Nor did he seem to have eyes for her well-trained rats or treasured blue-eyed males. She watched as the tour left the throne room and the skip continued to force annoying chatter towards what seemed like nobody in particular.
He took leave to find the king without coming to bid her farewell, which Grietum was quite happy about; she struggled to tolerate the mouthy, slithery man.
Three nights passed and the hunt of Blue Owin was into its fourth day. Grietum grew tired of waiting. Most hunts would have been over days ago and she would have freshly planted seed inside her. She only took a blue-eyed male’s seed once and then handed him to her daughters to do with as they pleased.
There tended to be around ten serving blues in her hive at any one time and she would dispose of them after they had done their duty for two moon-turns. They of course were promised freedom if they served well but releasing them would be folly: they might then return, seeking revenge for their forced thralldom or tell secrets of things they had seen and done within her hive. It was far easier to discreetly dispose of such risks.
Two of her blue-eyed males, nearing their ‘freedom’, were working two of her daughters in the middle of the throne room on soft cushions. Grietum grew tired of the display and turned to her pet who sat by her feet on the floor in front of the throne.
“Are you enjoying yourself, Prince Baskerville?” she asked as the boy stared at the sweaty naked bodies rubbing and banging against each other on the floor. He had been by her side nearly every moment in the last four days, still chained to her throne.
“It is…pleasurable…” He sighed.
He is just saying what he thinks I want him to say, she thought with frustration. The lost prince was a difficult book to read. For one so young, he had a rugged determination about him and the willpower of a fire-preacher. She saw him watching the displays in her throne room, from her daughters’ naked dancing, to the orgies filling the entire floor, and at no point did he seem aroused by any of it. She wanted a reaction from him.
“Perhaps it is the males you are looking at, yes?” She waited to see if this annoyed him in any way. “I hear there are those who are that way inclined; males who do not desire the body of women and instead prefer cock.”
Prince Baskerville slowly turned his head and stared at her.
She kept digging. “I am sure that you and Blue Owin have tried things with each other, no? In the dark of night on your travels, when you lie next to each other, with nobody else for warmth…”
“You’re trying to evoke a reaction which you’re not going to get.”
This truth annoyed Grietum. With his large blue eyes staying locked with hers, Prince Baskerville continued, “I do not desire men and I find it strange that you would think that your suggesting that I do, would annoy me in some way. People desire different things and there is no right or wrong as long as they are not hurting anybody.”
I do not like how smart this one’s tongue is. “But your Ten Gods would disapprove of such things. Ten Gods that you and your people worship—”
“They are not my gods!” The blue-eyed prince jumped in. “I do not believe in such fairy-stories. And even supposing that the gods did exist, why would it bother them, in all of their infinite power, if a man wanted to touch another man’s cock?”
A prince that is not one with the Ten, this is an unusual finding. “You are such a logical little creature, aren’t you?” She narrowed her eyes.
“Thank you,” said the insolent shit with a smile, turning back blankly to the action on the floor.
The noises from her daughters, pinned on their backs under her thrusting blue-eyed males, were becoming overpowering. “I have become tired of your shrieking, Gosha! You and Hali, take your blues and let them finish elsewhere and leave me in peace.”
The determined blues kept thrusting but Gosha and Hali lifted them off with an easy, effortless push to their chests. Standing, they grabbed a wrist each and towed their blues out of the throne room.
When things settled back to the usual tones of quiet chatter and occasional laughter, Grietum turned to Prince Baskerville. “Tell me, why you are the Lost Prince?” In the days since he became Grietum’s pet, she had not taken time to question him.
“I did not know I was lost,” was the blue’s sharp reply.
“You like playing with my words, don’t you?” Grietum rephrased: “Why is it that you have wandered the world for the best part of two years?”
“It is better than staying still.”
Aren’t we clever? I only wish I did not have to keep this one un-spoiled or he would be receiving a flogging for this insolence. “If you indulge my curiosity, I will release your friend for one night and let him sleep in comfort.” She pointed to Blue Owin’s cell below.
This seemed to stir something in the prince. “I left my home because there was nothing there for me. My father’s body failed, yet he still worshiped gods who he himself thought were playing a cruel joke on him. I did not want to rule a kingdom that based its entire way of life around a lie.”
“You are indeed wise for one so young. So this father of yours, he had no other living sons?” Grietum probed further.
“I have indulged you, so now you have to provide a bed for Owin for the night.” Her pet prince’s eyes looked straight ahead, unblinking.
One answer he gave me! I might have known this little cunt would have been tight-fisted. Perhaps some truths about his father will get his attention. “Do you wish your father dead?”
“No, as it would mean either the end of our line or I would have to take his throne.”
Finally, a slip up, she thought. “So you are his only living son…”
The prince’s nose twitched and his fists clenched.
“You do not like it when I get what I want, do you?”
“I don’t like you in general,” he snapped.
“You cut me deep, young Baskerville!” she mocked. “And how could you hate somebody who feeds you, shelters you and keeps you safe?”
“You do it against my will! I was free before you did this to me.” He grabbed the chain around his ankle and widened his already large eyes.
Grietum looked her pet up and down. “You care for your friend down there.” She pointed at the floor towards Blue Owin’s cell. “If I were to unchain you, you would not run?” He is intelligent enough to realize what I am hinting at, she mused, waiting for the thought to process in the young boy’s head.
“You mean to say that if I were to try to run, you would harm my friend.”
Clever boy. She smiled. “If that is what you think, but I would not like to confirm such nasty ideas.” You will be unchained but I will still have control over you. If anything, this was more exciting and desirable than a physical chain. Grietum would have control of him by way of his mind.
Now a little kindness will perhaps strengthen his chain.
She lay with her head where her feet would normally be on her bed-throne, so she could embrace the young prince. It was like trying to hug a brittle, little tree trunk as the boy sat stiffly on the edge of the throne, staring vacantly forward. She turned on the most nurturing voice she could muster, saying, “My dear child.
” This tone made him turn to look at her with narrowing eyes. “I am afraid I have been told dark tidings of your father, King Stewart. It would seem that an attacker murdered him and he is no longer of this world.”
His big eyes widened and his gaze dropped to the floor, looking for answers. “He’s dead?” He swallowed.
“I am afraid so,” she said, pulling the boy’s head into her big, blue bosom.
He stayed as rigid as an iron bar. “You must let me return to the Wetlands. My mother and Queen Tanya will need me.” The prince pulled away from her embrace. The whites of his eyes were a veiny red and his face was puffy.
“My dear lost prince. I have already made arrangements for you. Your mother is not in the Wetlands. She, and other kings and queens, are on their way to the Still Cities. I do not know all the details. But—”
The boy jumped in, “Then I must go to the Still Cities and—”
Let me finish, she thought with frustration as her clever little scheme to gain control was being rudely interrupted. “You will need help. I have arranged such things for you. I have hired a skip to get word to King Romarus of Last Kingdom to come to your aid. The king was sent by your father to find you and I am keeping you safe for him.” Well done Grietum, beautifully executed, she praised her cunning. “Now let us get that chain off of you shall we? And perhaps you can help me with your friend down there.” I should probably have let him digest the information of his father’s death before pressing more, but that would be very dull.
As one of her rats removed the chain from his leg, she half expected the boy to get up and run away but his vacant stare continued, unbroken, into the dimness of the throne room.
I will give him a prod in a minute, if he does not speak. The silence was boring her. “Prince Baskerville, you will help me, will you not?”
The boy looked stunned as his eyes stayed fixed on a point of nothing. He uttered, “Baskie…I prefer to be called Baskie.”
This was very exciting. He is getting closer to me. It was a strange feeling for Grietum, as this little mini hunt of hers was, for once, not for seed. It was simply for power and control. Perhaps it was for the boy’s help in the hunt for others but partly, it was just for the sake of it.
“Baskie…you will help me as I have helped you? For you see, once King Romarus comes, you will wish to leave with him sharply I would imagine. But what of Blue Owin if he has not yet gifted me with what I desire? You would be forced to leave him behind. He will only gain his freedom after he has done his duty.”
It is not a complete lie that he will gain his freedom…death is freedom, is it not?
She continued, “He only refuses because he feels he will anger this diva god of his and we both know such things are nonsense.”
The prince was like stone, still staring.
Answer me, you miserable scrote, she wanted to scream. Instead, she lightly rubbed his shoulder and made a sad face.
“I will speak with him for you.” He paused and looked at her, adding, “Excellence.”
That last word was worth all the frustration. She had him and soon would have a king. I will part with my little pet, Baskie, when Blue Romarus arrives, and that prancing skip will have his coin, but he can shove the rest of his contract up his arse. Once the doors to my hive close with Blue Romarus inside, that is where he will stay. An excited shiver ran through her at the thought.
Be not tempted by desires in this life. Be content in the knowledge that in the next life, if a brother has followed my teachings, he will receive every pleasure imaginable and beyond.
Scroll 2:7 of the Mother
Owin
Under the Throne Room
He couldn’t be sure how much time had passed in his cell under Grietum’s throne room. After perhaps four nights, kneeling naked with hands bound to a pole in front of him, he would wake with stiffness in his bones from lack of movement. A grill in the roof allowed him to see up into the room above, but the view tended to be the same. Looking straight up, Owin could see the beast’s fat pale-blue chin and stomach overhanging the long throne she lay on nearly all day and all night.
Baskie, who had been chained to the throne, looked unusually small next to the big blue cretin. Her head seemed large even though it sat on top of her oversized body. He was sure he had seen her swollen stomach move—or something move from inside it. She called Baskie her pet. The same phrase would come from her bloated face frequently: “This one is not for breeding.”
Yesterday Baskie was unchained, or so Owin assumed with his limited view from the cell, looking up through the grid.
Grietum had a lot of visitors. There were five today alone, and Owin was sure it was only midday but he had no way to be sure of the time, except roughly, judging by when they brought his meals.
Above his head, in the beast’s throne room, stood an older male wearing brown sandals and some kind of brown skirt that Owin had only ever seen a goddess wear. Grietum’s rats, as she called them, wore similar things around their waists but Owin was quite sure this was some kind of dress. “Speak, sir,” he heard Grietum shriek.
“Exalted Grietum, I come to you bearing gifts.”
From down below, Owin saw the older male kneel. It looked painful to rest a bare knee on that grid of metal.
“I bring our sweet wine from Arland Province. Its berries are true reds picked from the Brier Belt. I have brought ten cases for you and your hive to enjoy.” His head remained bowed.
“A kind thought…” She paused for him to introduce himself.
“Marthanon Potts, Excellence,” said the man with two names, rising stiffly from his kneeling position.
Why does he have two names? The young brother was sure he heard the man say two separate names. Why would somebody ever need two?
“And what brings you away from your warm bed in Arland, Master Potts, to bring little-me, such a kind gift?” Grietum asked, with a menacing voice.
“An act of kindness, of course, and perhaps an offer of business and trade.”
Owin saw the man beckon to somebody behind him. The shafts of light beaming into his cell through the grid above were cut off further as more feet stood over it. They knelt, five of them.
“I bring you slaves from the great city of Santé,” said Potts.
“I have no need for more daughters, Marthanon of Arland. Nor for rats either.”
Owin knew that rat was referring to the male among the four false goddesses who were kneeling above his head. He could see up their strange robes to their naked private parts.
“Wait, look at me again,” Grietum commanded with a hint of excitement in her shrill voice.
Marthanon tapped the shoulders of the false goddesses and they all backed out of Owin’s sight. The younger male stood.
“You are interested in this one, perhaps?” Marthanon put a hand on the back of the male’s white robes, which concealed nothing from Owin, who could see everything from his cell below.
“You people of Arland do amuse me in your blindness to the power and worth…and attractiveness, of those with blue-sight. A hybrid, I assume?”
What the fuck is a hybrid? Owin had never heard such a word, but everybody not of the island spoke strangely. They would say girl instead of goddess and call brothers, boys and men. Some on the Mother’s Island called all males, ‘brothers’. Owin tended to keep that title for those chosen to live there by the Mister or when referring to all males who had existed before the time of the Great Poison.
“It is true that many in Arland fear those with blue eyes…no offense,” Potts uttered, bowing his head and clearing his throat. “There are some convinced that the very same poison that decimated the land a millennia ago, still resides within their bodies.”
“They are fools.” Grietum flapped a fat arm.
The old male cleared his throat again. “Quite, Excellence…fools, but I can assure you that this one is of true blue-birth, not hybrid. An orphan from a young age, he came from the Barkón family. The family was
exiled some generations back when they began mixing with those of blue eyes from Last Kingdom. His name is Louis Barkón.”
Potts continued, speaking of lots of things that Owin didn’t understand. What he said seemed to please Grietum, who asked him to make an offer. Whatever they agreed upon, Owin wasn’t sure, as he was distracted by the sound of padding feet coming down the corridor, towards his cell. He heard Grietum clapping up above, shrieking, “Yes! Let another hunt begin!”
The door to his cell opened and light filled the dank, dripping space. He could feel himself get hard as he knew what was coming next. Every hour without fail two false goddesses would come in and tease him. They’d rub their breasts in his face and tease his nipples. Then they would grab his cock and seemed to know the exact point of when to stop rubbing him before he could shoot his seed. They would bring strange-tasting water, which seemed to make the situation worse. After drinking it, he would feel faint but his cock would get as stiff as a board. It was all he was given to drink, so he had little choice. His prayers to the Mother asked for the strength to overcome these temptations. This was clearly part of the journey he set out on all those weeks ago, when he tried to steal Baskie’s boat.
The two naked fakes stood in front of him. He stared at their feet but even that aroused him. Their toes were perfectly formed. Their skin was much like anybody else’s, except, in places, it was sprinkled with tiny specks of blue. He scanned their legs. The smooth skin and the shape of their thighs seemed to tickle his body from the inside.
The one on the left had no hair on her sacred place, which was level with his eyes. He wondered what it would be like to slide inside it. The young brother’s eyes moved over her flat stomach. Up further to her breasts that dangled firm, as if invisible hands cupped them. Pink nipples, pointed firmly. Their blue lips were in a pout that drew Owin’s gaze.
The other one slinked behind him. Warm hands ran across his back, reaching around, across his chest.
This time he did not pray to the Mother, instead he begged his captors, pleading, “Please, I’ll do anything. Just touch me again but this time let me finish!” I don’t care if it’s a sin. I need this. In that moment, the unending horror of the abyss escaped his mind as he pleaded for his sinful release.
A Poisoned Land (Book 1: Faith, Lies and Blue Eyes) Page 27