by Eden Bradley
Shame rolled over him in a heavy wave. How could he have let this happen? Only a man of weakness would end up like this—bound, a victim. He could never face his clan again. Never face Dhatri.
But soon the drugs began their work, and he couldn’t think any more of his home in the Wasteland, the darkly beautiful face of his bonded lover, of all that he would never see again. The room seemed to shrink, his focus to narrow, until all he could see was the girl, Nitara. All he could feel was his cock swelling, aching, as she danced, her body swaying, sinuous as a snake. Her hands wove patterns in the air, over her breasts, down her body.
He wanted her.
She turned slowly, her long hair swinging, shimmering in the torchlight. She watched him over one shoulder, pulling her hair aside as she smoothed the fabric of her tunic down and down, until the pale flesh of her back was revealed. Lower still, and he could see a pair of dimples at the small of her back, then the high, rounded curve of her ass. There was no music, yet her body set a rhythm, one he felt in his blood, in his cock. And when she dropped the tunic to the ground and turned to face him, his cock pulsed with a need so powerful he felt dazed by it.
Her body was lush, ripe, her breasts full and round, the nipples two hard points. Between her thighs she was shaved clean, her pussy lips smooth and pink as her nipples. She ran her hands over her belly, her sides, her hips swaying. Then she cupped her breasts, kneaded the flesh, before her fingers brushed over the hard pink tips.
Akaash strained, trying to move, needing to touch her.
Had to.
But all he could do was watch. And want.
Her gaze was on his face, green eyes that glowed in the dim light like pale sun-glass. And her hand snaked down between her thighs, brushing her pink cleft.
He groaned. Desire was like a knife, cutting deep. He felt it everywhere—in his cock, his very blood.
Nitara…
He no longer cared that the drugs kept him as bound as any ropes might. All he knew was that he must have her. Touch her. Fuck her.
“Nitara.”
She looked up at the sound of her name. Blinked, pausing in her sensual dance. He looked more closely and saw the rise and fall of her chest, signaling her panting breath. He knew if he put his hand between her legs he would find her wet. Ready.
“I will have you,” he murmured.
She smiled, pulled her hand from between her thighs, stepped right up to the bars of the cage and knelt there. Her fingertips glistening with her juices, she reached through the bars and touched them to his lips.
He groaned.
“Yes, you will,” she said.
Then she was gone.
Gods, he could smell her. And when he licked his lips, he could taste her. She was sweet, salty, full of smoke and need. Need as sharp as his own.
He knew it was the drugs that made him crave her as if he would die. That, and her sweet face, her ripe body. He didn’t care. Didn’t care that to have her he would have to die. At this moment, he would do so willingly.
I will die to have this woman.
The words echoed in his head, empty of any meaning. But full of images—him pushing between her round thighs, into her slick cunt. Thrusting into her over and over, pleasure soaring. Coming into her…
He was out of his head. But there was nothing he could do. He was helpless against the iron bars of the cell that held him. Helpless against the drugs they’d fed him. Helpless against Nitara.
Nitara ran through the hallways and into her room. Tearing her tunic over her head, she dropped it on the floor. She knelt, naked, at the small altar next to her bed before the carved image of the Goddess, the small stone bowl holding bits of sun-glass, bread and other offerings she’d put there before her morning prayers. She lit the candles, bowed her head and thrust her hand between her parted thighs, her fingers slipping in the moisture between the swollen folds of her sex.
“Great Goddess,” she whispered urgently, “I offer You my desire, my willingness to serve Your needs.”
She touched her fingers to the stone image, then moved her hand back between her legs, finding the hard nub of her clitoris.
She moaned, keeping her eyes on the image of the Goddess as pleasure filled her, shimmering over her skin. But in her mind’s eye all she saw was the face of Akaash. Rugged. Dangerous. His dark eyes, glittering like coal in the torchlight. The white slash of his teeth between his lush lips. Lips she wanted to feel on her skin.
“Oh…”
She pressed onto her clitoris, harder and harder, and with her other hand she caressed her nipples, first one, then the other.
His hair was all long, dark waves punctuated by tiny braids, beads woven into them, and coils of metal wire. Beautiful. Strong. And his body…she had never seen that kind of muscle on a man. Long, lean muscles, covered in golden skin. The boldly patterned tattoo covering his left forearm, like heavy black thorns and swirling dots…there was something alien and masculine about it. What would that body, that skin, feel like beneath her hands?
Another surge of pleasure, sharp and hot, centering in her sex and spreading through her belly, her breasts, making her nipples so hard they ached, needing to be touched.
His name was Akaash.
“Akaash.”
Even his name was like some sort of wild aphrodisiac on her lips.
Desire was like the high tone of a bell, reverberating in her body, singing in her blood. She rubbed harder, circling her clitoris, closing her eyes.
Akaash…
She pinched one nipple hard between her fingers, pinched her clit just as hard. Her body tensed, and she came, shuddering. Pleasure stabbed into her, again and again, into her sex, her thighs, making her weak, dizzy.
Akaash…
She would have him. And during the month-long Taming Moon she would touch herself, come for him, over and over. Offer her pleasure to the Goddess. Do her duty.
She would not think about what would come after, on the altar on the day of her Sacrifice.
Akaash.
No, she would not think of it.
It was dark when Leilin came to Nitara’s room and woke her, the hour late into the night.
“Nitara, it is time to go to the Sanctuary.”
“Leilin. I’ve been dreaming,” Nitara murmured, trying to drag her mind out of the fog of too little sleep.
The room was mostly dark, lit only by the candle her sister carried. Leilin’s round face was pale, like a small moon, her green eyes dark in the shadows.
“Of what, Little Sister?”
“Of him. My Sacrifice.”
“Good dreams? Fruitful dreams?”
Nitara sat up in her bed, pushing her hair from her face. “I dream he is touching me. That his body is hard against mine. I dream that I can feel the texture of his hair…”
“You want him.”
“Yes. He’s very beautiful.”
“You’re lucky.”
“Was your Sacrifice beautiful?”
“He was average in looks. It didn’t matter. I did my duty, anyway. But you are fortunate to desire him. It’s a gift from the Goddess.”
“Did you not feel desire at your Sacrifice, Leilin?”
“I felt the desire I was trained to. My body responded as it was taught.”
“But your mind…”
“…was on my duty to the Great Unnamed One. That is often how it is for a Breeder.”
“My mind will be on him. Too much, perhaps.”
Leilin leaned in closer, clasped Nitara’s hand in hers. “Be careful, Little Sister. You tread on dangerous ground. He is an instrument. He serves a purpose, as we all do.”
“I will keep the intentions of the Goddess in mind, Leilin. But...”
“There must be nothing else, Nitara. Come now. Go to him, tantalize him, so that he’ll be unable to resist you come the day of Sacrifice. This is the purpose of the Taming Moon. To tame him with his desire for you. This is the first step in fulfilling our purpose on the Earth.”<
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“Yes, of course, Leilin. I’m being silly. I’ll go.”
Nitara rose from her bed, threw on the linen robe made for this purpose, closed it around her body. Leilin lit the candle on her bed stand and handed it to her, kissed her cheek and left.
The halls were cool in the evening air. Nitara’s bare feet whispered on the smooth stone as she made her way down and down, into the deepest levels which held the Sanctuary. Her pulse was hot, fluttering. She was far too eager to see him.
Finally she reached the outer chamber, where a small altar stood. She bowed before it, touching her fingers to the rounded breasts and belly of the stone image of the Goddess before slipping through the doorway and into the small room opposite the cell which held her Sacrifice.
Akaash.
He was sleeping, his long body laid out on the bare floor, but came awake quickly. Too quickly—the herbs should have kept him sedated, as well as aroused. Still, she didn’t think to run to the guards or the priestesses. She liked that he was alert, that he knew something of what was going on around him. That he could know her. She liked the way his long hair hung down his back, over the hard muscles of his wide shoulders, the contrast of black hair and sleek golden-brown skin.
He watched her with wary eyes.
“Is it morning?” he asked, his voice rough with sleep.
“You are to exist without sense of time or place. You are to exist only to feel a need which must be fed.”
“Your drugs make me feel such need.”
“Only the drugs?” she asked, letting the robe fall open, her belly and breasts bared to him. “Am I not enticing?”
Her body was going hot all over, seeing the hunger in his eyes.
“You know you are.”
A small thrill went through her at his admission.
“Before the month of the Taming Moon is over, you will know it, as well, Akaash the Wanderer.”
He only grunted, but he kept his gaze on her.
She slipped the robe from her shoulders, let it fall to the ground and stepped back, knelt on the pile of cushions placed on the floor for this purpose. She leaned forward, cupping her breasts with her hands.
“I like that you watch me. I like the need in your eyes.” She feathered her fingertips over her nipples, and they grew full beneath her touch. “I wish these were your hands, Akaash.”
Pleasure shafted through her as she said his name, teasing her nipples into two hard points.
“I want to feel your rough palms on my flesh, your mouth close over my nipple. To feel the heat and the wet. To feel you sucking.”
Desire was like a storm raging over his face. She saw the rise of his hard cock beneath the loincloth he wore. He strained in his bonds, but said nothing. His silence was like a challenge to her. She would make him admit his need for her.
“Akaash,” she said softly, simply because she enjoyed the sound of his name on her lips, “my skin would be sweet on your tongue.” She lifted her breasts, offering them to him. “Tell me you want to taste it.”
His eyes blazed. His jaw clenched.
She smiled and let her hands drop from her breasts, gliding them over her sides, the tops of her thighs. “I am even sweeter here,” she said, slipping one hand into her cleft. “You had a small taste the last time I saw you.”
A small groan from him, through his tense jaw.
“Ah, I knew it,” she told him, smiling in triumph.
“Damn it, woman. What is this game?” His voice was rough, raw. “You’re here to seduce me, that much is common knowledge. You’re here to torture me with the sight of your body. Of course I want you. To touch you. To taste you. To fuck you.”
She shivered, hearing the crude words from his mouth. That lush mouth. She remembered the softness of his lips on her fingertips. Unexpectedly soft…
She felt suddenly the power of her ability to do this to him. To make him suffer with desire. She understood that part of it was the drugs the guards fed to him. But she also knew the force of her own femininity. It was the first time in her life she had felt any sense of power, of control over anything. It confused her. Aroused her. Made her want more.
She spread her thighs apart, until she knew he could see the lips of her shaved sex. He watched her carefully as she massaged the swollen lips, and found the pleasure rising, sharp and swift. It felt different with him watching her do these things. Different than doing it to herself, alone. Different from Xian’s touch when she taught her the ways of pleasure and seduction.
She slid her fingers between her folds. She was soaking wet. Aching. And when she slipped one fingertip inside, she saw every muscle in his body jump.
“Let me out of these bonds,” he murmured.
“I cannot do that.”
“Let me out and I will put my hand where yours is.”
“Oh…”
She was shaking with need. Close to coming. Too close.
“Let me out,” he said again, his voice a low growl, “and I will put my tongue there. I will taste you for myself.”
She shook her head, spread her thighs wider and rubbed in a small circle over her clitoris. She moaned in pleasure, her body growing hotter, hotter.
“I’m told you breeders are trained in sex by your priestesses.”
“Yes. We are taught to please a man using phalluses made of clay. And the priestesses train us to sexual response with their own touch, their hands and mouths.”
It made her wetter to say these things to him aloud.
“So you know that ultimate pleasure of lips and tongue on your sweet cunt?”
“Yes…”
Every muscle in his body was tense as he leaned forward, as far as his restraints would allow. “I would bury my face between your lovely thighs, push my tongue inside you, lick your hard little clit.”
His skin was gleaming with sweat, the iron cuffs biting into his strong wrists as he pulled against them. And the bulge of his cock beneath the fabric of the loincloth made her mouth water. To have his cock inside her…
Soon…
“Tell me again you want me, Akaash.”
“I will tell you, but it will do me no good, will it? I will tell you, anyway. I want you. To fuck you. To grind my cock into your body until it hurts. Until you scream in pleasure. Until your cunt closes hard around me, clenching me as you come. Until I feel the wet heat of your come, until I can smell your pleasure. And then I will do it again, Nitara. And again, and again, until you cannot breathe, cannot move, cannot even beg for more.”
“Oh…Goddess…”
Her body clenched in pleasure, her climax thundering through her. A dull white noise roared in her head, and she closed her eyes, her sex pulsing with heat, burning through her. She cried out, and heard his groans.
“Damn it, woman, you do this to me!”
She opened her eyes, looked at him. He was panting, covered in a fine sheen of sweat. His eyes were dark, the pupils enormous. He looked as if he might kill someone.
Dangerous.
Yes, but she loved the idea of that danger, contained as it was by the drugs and his bonds and his need.
Beautiful.
She got up on shaking legs, picked up her discarded robe.
“I will return to you soon.”
With one last look at his beautiful, tortured face, she ran from the room.
She was beautiful. Beautiful and wicked and cruel.
His cock was so hard it hurt, and chained as he was, there was nothing he could do about it.
Their damn drugs weren’t quite working, not as they were intended to. No, mostly it was the girl. That soft, white flesh, her rounded breasts, the nipples two perfect nubs of pink, full and luscious. He couldn’t even think about her pussy.
He groaned, his cock pulsing. He was torturing himself, but he couldn’t help it. Those pink lips peeking from between the smooth curve of her thighs. How tight she would be, the walls of her cunt clasping him as he slid inside…
He arched his hips, mee
ting nothing but the light cloth that covered him. It was agonizing. Almost enough to make him come. Almost.
He could not believe this was happening to him. Trapped like an animal, tortured with naked flesh he could not touch. Shame and desire warred in him in equal measures, and he didn’t know which would win at any given moment.
He wished for the drugs. Wished they would work, make it all some sort of terrible dream. Except that it wasn’t all terrible.
Nitara.
He couldn’t stop thinking of her. He didn’t want to. Didn’t want to want her. It felt like some sort of betrayal. To his people. To his own God, El, and his consort, the Goddess, Ela. To his bonded lover, Dhatri.
But he could not think of Dhatri. It brought too much pain. Too much shame.
He focused on the shame, willing his erection down. And after some time, it worked.
His life would end in regret. Regret he would likely never have the chance to redeem. And here he was, yearning for some girl—one belonging to the city’s temple—like a dog in heat.
Unbearable.
He was shaking, fury burning through him as fiercely as desire had earlier.
He must find some way to escape. To make his way home to the Mutairi. To earn once more his place in the clan.
Meanwhile, he would not talk to her again. There was something about that small bit of communication that made her seem all too human to him. Imminently desirable.
The Wanderers spoke of the breeder girls as just that—broodmares for the temple. And he knew that was true. He hadn’t expected one of them to have any individuality. But this girl, Nitara…she was, unexpectedly, a person. One he would not know.
Would not.
He could not prevent his physical desire for her. But he could avoid any other sort of attraction. Any other sort of thought, where she was concerned. He must remain as detached as possible, and focus only on his escape.