by Ines Johnson
“An interested party placed them in my hands.”
The Male Voice looked Emet up and down. It had been a difficult sell bringing Emet on. He had no formal education outside of the temple. He had no family backing to help him maneuver in the political world. His Mother had returned to the Goddess years ago. His brother and sisters were busy with their own families and never showed Emet any interest. Emet had gotten by his entire life on his wits and his sharp mind.
The Male Voice handed the papers back to Emet. “There are a lot of sharks in this world, Emet.”
“I’ve navigated rough waters before.” Emet placed the papers in his case. “I’ll be prepared for tomorrow.”
“I have every confidence you will.” The Voice placed a hand on Emet’s shoulder and gave a squeeze.
As the Voice walked past him and back inside his offices, Emet allowed his large frame to sag against his desk. When he straightened, he was more determined than ever to win this battle.
He left the building and headed home.
When he arrived at the storefront, he saw Alyss and Adom from the window. They looked like a picture perfect couple. Adom’s fingers worked over parchment. Alyss bent over watching his fingers move. They both looked up at the sound of the bell above the door.
Adom’s face lit up at the sight of Emet. “We were waiting for you.”
Emet wondered if his mate was excited to see him or if he was excited to get started with his muse again. Emet’s eyes strayed to Lady Alyss. Her smile, bright before, dropped into the reserved polite up-tilt of her station. Gone was the blissful look that clouded her features when Adom had bound and sketched her this morning. Emet motioned for them to head down into the studio. He turned the lock on the shop’s door and followed behind them.
They descended into the studio and Adom showed them his progress. The meanings of Adom’s abstract artworks always eluded Emet. The meaning behind this painting was clear. It was a lotus blossom. Its leaves done in vibrant shades of green. From the core of the blossom emerged a woman, her arms and legs stretching as though she were awakening, being born, or perhaps even giving birth. At present the woman’s body was colorless.
“I’m can’t see the colors,” Adom said. “She’s meant to be born out of the flower. The colors should look like a woman’s core.”
Silence rang deafeningly loud in the small studio.
“You need me to disrobe?” Lady Alyss’ voice was husky.
Adom turned to her. “You would be perfectly safe.”
“I’m not shy. The female form is art in and of itself. I trust you.” She looked back to the painting. “And I want it to be perfect.”
Lady Alyss slid the straps of her gown off her shoulders. She untied the strings, and the gown fell. She was left in her undergarments. She walked over to the chair. Emet watched the twin globes of her heart-shaped ass, unable to look away.
Lady Alyss reached behind her back and unclasped her bras. She turned to sit in the chair, but froze. Her eyes caught Emet watching her. Adom was at his cabinet of ropes. She hesitated for a moment, looking Emet dead in the eye.
“You’re perfect, my lady.” Adom came towards her, ropes in hands.
Alyss’ eyes fluttered at the sight of the twine. She pulled the straps of her bras free. Without another second’s hesitation, she stepped out of her panties.
Emet swallowed, keeping his head away from her, but his eyes strained to the edge of his perception. Finally, he turned, lifted his chair up and faced it into the corner. He sat back carefully, hiding his erection. By the time he settled, he heard Adom knotting her hands behind.
It was the sound of the ropes that lured his body back around, not the woman. Emet couldn’t resist the crackling sound of the binds. He saw his bondmate down on his knees. Adom looked as though he were worshipping at the core of the Goddess, herself.
This time Emet could not tear his eyes away from her. His lips parted and then closed. He tried to swallow, but had difficulty with the rising tide cresting beneath his tongue. Adom spread her thighs. Emet saw her chest heave in a pant. Her core was presented to them; glistening, a shock of dark pink hidden behind dark fur.
With his muse roped securely to the chair, Adom stepped back to his easel. His brow furrowed. “I can’t see you clearly.”
Emet wondered what Adom would do. He had genital clamps in his little drawer. Perhaps he’d use them on the little princess. But it wasn’t likely. Clamps were pleasurable when they were on, but once you pulled them off pain flooded the senses. It was against the law to hurt women in any way, shape, or form.
“Em?”
Emet looked up at the call of his name.
“Would you help?”
Emet blinked.
“Would you part her labias for me?” Adom turned back to Lady Alyss, assuming that Emet was automatically on board. “He’s a trained hound as well, my lady. He will be entirely professional in his handling of you.”
Emet’s eyes bulged in his head. His legs were nearly in motion. His hands didn’t immediately obey his command to grip the edges of the chair to stay still. It was a struggle to get his mouth to work up a protest. “You -you can’t show that.”
“Of course not. I just need to mix the colors; for the flower petals.” Adom took his seat and arranged his paints.
Emet wasn’t buying Adom’s ploy of abstract art. He looked to Lady Alyss. She frowned at him as though he were childish. Not one, but both of her eyebrows raised.
“He doesn’t look like a professional.” Lady Alyss’ head tilted to the side. Emet saw her wrists and ankles give a tug at the ropes. She inhaled, the restraints obviously emboldening her. “He looks like a scared little boy. Are you sure we need him?”
A flash of Lady Alyss at the first debate came to his mind. She’d tried to distract him with her feminine wiles then and had failed. Emet had to remind himself that she was untried. She had never felt a man’s hands on her, didn’t know the pleasure it would bring.
Emet rose. His hands clenched at his sides, his legs taking sure strides to the pampered princess sitting bare and spread in the center of the room. A tiny gasp escaped her as Emet stood before her, towering over her. She closed her mouth, lifted her chin, and narrowed her eyes at him as though he were no threat.
Emet sank down to her level. He watched her throat work to swallow down her draining confidence. He sensed her naked body fidget under his scrutiny, but he never took his eyes off hers. She must have read something in his expression because her expression became one that was all too familiar to Emet.
It wasn’t fear, or arousal. It was the look a woman got when a strong man stood before her. Even kneeling, Emet emanated power over her. He remembered this feeling from his days as a hound. He remembered feeling drunk off the power he could lord over a woman and leave her panting for more.
He reached out his hands slowly. When they contacted her thighs, a shudder quaked along her calf. Her feet, which had been flat against the floor, rose to the balls of her toes. He saw the struggle she waged to keep her eyes open, to maintain any modicum of composure in spite of him.
Emet smiled. She would lose this battle, and then the one to come tomorrow.
His hands traveled up her thighs until they reached the skin separating her legs from her labias. She panted in earnest, but only through her nose. Her mouth stayed stubbornly shut, her eyes large in her lovely face.
Emet rested both thumbs in unison on her outer lips. Slowly, ever so slowly, he peeled them back.
“Yes, that’s it.”
Emet heard the sound of Adom’s voice mingled with his brush. Lady Alyss heard it too because after a few brush strokes, her eyes closed and her lips parted on a small moan. Her body moved in tandem with Adom’s brush. Emet saw her forearms tense against the ropes. He felt the muscles of her thighs bunch.
Unbidden, Emet’s fingers massaged her labias. Just sparse movements up and down the outer lips. If he were honest with himself, he would admit the move wasn
’t unbidden. Alyss was attuned to Adom’s brush. Emet wanted her to remember his presence, feel his dominance.
Under the pads of his fingers, he felt the juices flow from Alyss’ core. The scent of her hit him over the head and he struggled to keep control of his senses. He lost very quickly.
The top of his right thumb dipped into her slick heat. Alyss moaned and opened her eyes. The gold churned hazy as they looked down at Emet in complete shock. Her lips parted. Emet’s mouth watered. He wanted to sink his tongue into her mouth.
Instead he pulled his thumb from her core. He held it up, glistening between them. Alyss’ eyes widened as Emet opened his mouth. His tongue flicked out, and he licked. Now it was Emet that moaning. It had been years since he’d tasted a woman. Alyss tasted fresh, sweet.
From the seat of the chair, he felt her tilt her hips up. But she couldn’t get too far. The ropes at her feet prevented it. The sound of her flesh on the wooden chair made Emet look down. A small puddle was between her legs on the wooden bench. Like a hawk Emet’s head dipped to capture his prey.
Alyss cried out as his nose met her core. Emet lapped the wood and then tilted his mouth up to capture her wet heat. Her legs trembled. She fought the binds. He knew friction sent delicious waves of sensation up her body. She spasmed. Her inner muscles grabbed at his tongue, pulling him deeper into her. He reveled in the contractions, hummed his approval. Her body jerked more as his humming sent vibrations through her.
When she came down from the orgasm, Emet realized he hadn’t had his fill. He pushed her thighs open wider. He buried his face in her. His nose caressed her clitoris. His teeth racked over her perineum. His lips tugged at her labias. His hands snaked under her ass and he tilted her directly into his face. Before long she was quivering. The second orgasm made her shake so hard she nearly toppled over in the chair.
Emet felt a hand at his back. “Em?”
Adom’s voice broke through the haze of Emet’s want.
“Emet,” Adom said again. This time his hand firmly around Emet’s neck.
It took every once of control in him, but slowly Emet pulled himself away from Lady Alyss’ core.
Lady Alyss slumped slack in the chair. Her head caved in. Her chest heaved. Her legs trembled.
Adom bent down to untie the ropes at her feet. He massaged feeling back into each of her calves. Lady Alyss didn’t respond. Her eyes remained closed. Her head bowed. She looked powerless. It should’ve pleased Emet, but it didn’t. He wiped at his mouth, his hand came away juicy and trembling. He clenched his fists once more, but it was no use. He couldn’t stop the flood of desire he’d uncorked.
Emet stared as Adom went behind her chair and undid the ties on her forearms. As he massaged feeling and life back into her hands and arms, Lady Alyss’ head rose. She stared at Emet, who still knelt before her. Her eyes were foggy, but slowly they cleared. The two stared at each other. She didn’t try to regain her composure. Emet didn’t rise from his prostrated position. They each stayed that way until Adom led Alyss away to dress.
It wasn’t until she was dressed and Emet standing that they looked at each other once more. When they did, it was as though their battle armor had been dented, and one more blow from either party would be the death knell.
She turned to the new painting. Her face transformed into wonder. She spoke a few words to Adom, words Emet couldn’t make out. Then she turned to Emet once more. They faced off for a second. And then Lady Alyss turned out of the door and up the stairs. Emet trailed behind and turned into his bedroom. Adom joined him a few moments later. He came into the room, eyes hooded, a small smile on his lips.
Emet watched as Adom approached him, slowly, as though he thought Emet were some wild creature he would attempt to tame. But there would be no taming Emet tonight. Emet had no intention of being roped into submission after what he’d just experienced. He felt wild. He felt unleashed.
When Adom was only an inch away he stopped in his tracks as though he sensed the trap he’d just walked into. Adom raised his hands, slowly, as though not to startle the wildness he saw brewing inside Emet. Adom’s fingers came to the top button of his shirt. One by one he released each button from its catch until his chest was bare. Then he went to his trousers and did the same.
Once naked, Adom moved just as slowly around Emet and crawled on all fours onto the bed. Before he had a change to turn onto his back, Emet was on him, and then inside him.
14
The pencil in Alyss’ hand glided over the parchment. The hands she drew were masculine, not feminine. A vine encircled the wrists. Instead of green, the vines were a deep pink. The fingers on the rendition of the hands grasped desperately for the vines. One index finger caressed a vine softly, with reverence.
“That’s lovely, lady Alyss.”
Alyss crumbled the paper, then pressed the destruction to her chest. She looked up into the bright eyes of Sister Mychelle.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Sister Mychelle said. Her face morphed into a frown. “And now you’ve destroyed your drawing.”
Alyss shook her head, putting the paper behind her back and letting it fall to the ground. “No, it's not mine.”
Sister Mychelle bent to pick it up. Alyss wanted to snatch it away from her. She sat at a windowsill just outside the full chamber where she was to stand and debate the Insemination Bill. Insider the chamber, she spied her Mother on the far side speaking with Sister Roslyn of the Chamber of Worship. How could Alyss have been so careless? To do such a thing in broad daylight where she was so exposed.
She’d been drawing all night long. Each time she closed her eyes, she was assaulted with vines and velvet and pink lotus flowers bursting open with their seeds being carried off on a light breeze that shook the flowers to their roots.
Alyss swallowed and blinked her eyes rapidly to clear away the vision. She looked back to Sister Mychelle who stared into her face with clear eyes.
“I know what this is about Alyss.”
“You do?”
Though Alyss’ voice was a whisper, it was steady and strong. Since the moment she left Adom’s studio the prior night she’d felt as though she stood alone holding back a door that struggled to burst open. She stood bracing herself on one side of the door. On the other side of the door, a tidal wave battered and rammed against her to get out.
Faced with Sister Mychelle’s knowing gaze, Alyss let out a sigh…of relief. Her shoulders relaxed, ready to let the door and the surge free.
“You are an artist, Alyss.”
In her mind, Alyss put her back against the door to hold it steady a little longer. In reality, she leaned back against the windowsill. But the sun’s rays crawled up her back and rested at her neck.
Sister Mychelle straightened the paper, running her hand over the crinkles. “You know Alyss, art should never be hidden.” She folded the paper in half. “The worst thing in life is to deny your passion.” She handed the paper back to Alyss. “Good luck today.”
Sister Mychelle walked into the chamber and took her place amongst the other Sisters of the council. Alyss couldn’t move. Her body would not allow her to rise away from the windowsill. Nor would it allow her fingers to grasp the crinkled paper of her artwork. The parchment slipped through her fingers and fell to the ground once more.
A pair of long, brown fingers reached down to retrieve it.
Alyss knew those fingers. They’d touched her in a place she owned but never had explored herself. A place she’d never thought she’d want to go. A place she never thought she’d allow anyone else access.
Alyss had planned to spend her life without mates. Unlike most girl’s her age who dreamed of running off with the perfect pair of First Sons, Alyss dreamed of running away from home to be left alone. Her naughty thoughts all centered on an easel set out in broad daylight by the window, and colored pencils and paints left out on the dining room table. There had never been a man in the visions of her head. Now that she’d had one between her legs, she co
uldn’t get him out of her mind.
Her mental block stood tall and broad before her. He reached down to pick up the crumpled parchment. His head came in alignment with the place he’d tasted just the night before. His eyes looked thoughtfully at her drawing.
“He’s right,” Emet said, his voice quiet.
“Who?”
“Adom.” Emet stood to his full height. “You are talented.”
It was the last thing she’d expected him to say, and she, Lady Alyss, a social butterfly with a witty comment for all occasions, was left speechless.
Emet’s eyes connected with hers. It looked as though he tried for a blank slate expression, and he had almost accomplished it. His mouth was a closed, straight line. He breathed normally. But there, in his eyes, she saw the same dark look of intensity he’d worn last night as his tongue swirled around her most intimate flesh.
Alyss’ thighs pressed together as she watched his lips prepare to move. She was certain he sensed the tidal wave of dampness that rushed between her thighs.
When he opened his mouth again, she was certain he would mention it. Instead, he said, “Why do you hide it?”
She knew he wasn’t referring to the bundle of moist nerves pulsing between her pressed thighs, nor the puddle of desire weighing her down. She would much rather to talk about those embarrassing realities than her artwork. Her drawings were too personal. They were from a place deeper within her than her intimate flesh. They were from her very soul.
“Art and creativity, just like men, are frowned upon in my household.”
Emet didn’t take offense at the tiny jab to his gender. Instead, he turned her words over in his head. But she didn’t want to wait for his words. She didn’t want his pity or his concern or even his ire when it came to her art. She felt too exposed, and she wanted to cloak herself.
“Did you do it to gain an advantage today?” she asked. “Did you…do what you did last night to sway me to your way of thinking?”
She’d expected him to play dumb and pretend to not know what she spoke about. Or to play gentlemen and have too much class to engage in a discussion of such an intimate matter. But he did neither. He met her move and raised the stakes.