Within moments, her staff of servants would arrive. Today was tribute day in the temple, which meant hours of preparation for her. When she reminded Kerrick, he nodded absently.
“You have to come,” she reminded.
“I’ll be there.” He smiled ruefully. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to climax after what happened this morning, but I’ll certainly try.” Moving over to the couch, he grabbed his shirt and belt off the floor and slipped them on. “Do you want me to call Donlan?”
She nodded. Donlan was the guard who had fallen to his knees when she prayed, the one who resolutely held to his tribute for over a season. Out of all the guards, Kerrick and she trusted Donlan the most.
Once Donlan entered, Kerrick left, and Ariss gave herself over to her servants. They washed, anointed, powdered, perfumed, and then slathered cosmetics over her face until she became almost a caricature of herself. They spent all morning and most of the afternoon preparing her to receive tribute.
Donlan kept his gaze moving. He watched everything the servants did, yet kept an ear on the door. His duty was to protect her from any harm while Kerrick was gone. Donlan took his duty seriously. He was ever vigilant. However, she noticed his eyes would linger a bit more on her once they fitted her into the elaborate gown that covered the front of her legs, brushed the edge of her bottom, and exposed her breasts. Donlan’s pupils dilated slightly and his cock hardened when he saw her in her black ceremonial gown.
When Donlan caught her noticing, he blushed and forcefully looked to the servants. She honestly didn’t think he had anything to be ashamed of; Donlan was conditioned to become aroused when he saw her this way. That was rather the point. Ariss also knew he was looking forward to offering tribute. At first, she thought he would wait an entire season, and perhaps he was optimistic of doing so, but he found that being near her was far too tempting. Donlan had given tribute at every opportunity just as every other guard in the palace had done since she had become the consort to the Harvester god.
Prior to her becoming the vessel of Tavarus, the guards had little opportunity to give tribute. Only during severely restricted festivals were they allowed to enter the temple and stroke themselves to fulfillment. At those times, they gave over to their imagined consort of Tavarus. Mostly, they were expected to contain themselves and wait for the time when they were allowed to bond. Sadly, most were not allowed that luxury.Even if they were allowed to select a mate, only one child could come from their pairing. Giving the guards the luxury of temple tribute gave them the release they needed to truly focus on their job of defending the palace. If nothing else, Ariss knew what she offered these men mattered. She gave them a way to purge their lust. Without her, they often floundered and despised themselves for finding a release outside the strict confines of their roles.
Ariss had never confessed to anyone how much she enjoyed this part of her duty. Sitting upon her tawdry throne, her breasts exposed, and watching guard after guard fall to his knees to masturbate at her feet was profoundly erotic. Power filled her. They knelt for her. At times she pulled herself back with forceful regard, reminding herself they gave their tribute to Tavarus, but in her mind she knew they came for her. All these men willingly entered the temple to gaze upon her body and stroke themselves to fulfillment. She sincerely doubted that Tavarus ever entered their thoughts.
She had no idea if Tavarus could feel her through the throne, but she doubted it. If he could, he would have flung the information in her face when he possessed Kerrick. She wondered if Kerrick would be angry that she took such sinful pleasure in her duty, but given his erotic mind, she doubted he would.
She didn’t think Kerrick would want to deny her pleasure. If the guards touched her in any way, she had a feeling he would be furious, but them looking at her, lusting after her, probably didn’t bother him. Still, she was curious. She knew he did not enjoy giving tribute, because he didn’t like being forced to do anything, especially not having to kneel to her power. Alternately, Kerrick wouldn’t mind her bowing down to him, but as a man, he had a terrible time showing obeisance to another, in particular, a woman. He hadn’t minded masturbating for her in the mating room. But this, in the temple, he found degrading.
With a sigh, she lifted her hand to Donlan. The time had come for tribute. He opened the door and gave a series of sharp commands. After a moment, he ushered her out into the hall.
Surrounded by guards, she made her way laboriously toward the temple. Cool air caressed her breasts, peaking her nipples and washing small bumps across her flesh. The edge of the dress brushed against her bottom like a teasing caress. Silken astle washed down the front, smoothing against her meticulously shaved legs. Every step she took caused her outfit to stroke her, heightening her awareness of her own body.
Ariss lifted herself a bit higher, proud of the power in her form. Her family had spent so much time instilling shame in her, that she found a delicious irony in the fact that her entire existence now revolved around sex. No wonder her father took the entire family and ran back to Felton. He must be mortified. A wicked smile crossed her face. She had no sympathy for him. All of this began because of his ruthless greed. As far as she was concerned, he’d gotten his comeuppance.
Her mind flashed briefly on Kerrick, wondering what he was doing. She hoped he would be safe. If anything happened to him, she didn’t know how she would continue. Her entire life had changed drastically, and she knew the changes would only continue. She wanted Kerrick there to help her. She now knew she had the inner strength to persevere on her own, but her life would be so much more bearable if he were at her side.
With a deep breath, she entered the temple, leaving her retinue behind. Smoke wafted in the air as the azure crystals cast their odd blue light over everything within. Stepping carefully along the path of acolytes, she made her way to the throne. Leering perversely, Tavarus’ image hung over the seat where the clear phallus awaited. Carefully, Ariss sat, sliding the cool stone within her body. Anticipation caused a quiver along the inner muscles of her sex, clamping her tightly around the rock. It didn’t take long for the heat of her body to transfer to the stone.
Lifting her hand, she nodded to the nearest acolyte, wordlessly instructing him to bring in the first guard.
The man was unfamiliar to her, but his large, wide-set eyes instantly struck her as unique. Curly black hair swept across his forehead, and a slight scruffy beard darkened his otherwise pale face. His nose hooked toward the end, possibly from a break. His lips were full, sensual, and parted in wonder as he gazed upon her.
He swallowed hard. He remained mute for a long moment; then his eyes widened in fear.
“Say, ‘I have come to pay tribute,’” Ariss whispered to him.
Nodding vigorously, he cleared his throat. “I have come to pay tribute.” His voice was so loud it echoed against the farthest walls of the temple.
Ariss did her best not to smile. Waves of nervousness rolled off him, but she sensed that his heart was pure.
He stood very still, then cocked his head to the side, clearly unable to recall his next line.
Ariss whispered, “‘Will you accept my tribute?’”
He gave her a perplexed frown, then realized that was what he should say. After another very loud clearing of his throat, he practically screamed, “Will you accept my tribute?”
“You don’t have to yell, I’m right here.”
“You don’t have to yell,” he yelled, “I’m right here.”
Ariss covered her face with her hand until her giggles abated. To his credit, he stood patiently waiting until she said, “I will accept your offering.”
This part he understood. He fell to his knees so quickly she swore she heard his bones crack against the Onic tile floor. Excitedly, he yanked at his loincloth, but the fabric caught on his belt. Growling, he pulled until a sharp rent of tearing fabric filled the air. Once freed of the cloth, he tossed it aside.
Her eyes went wide. She’d never seen such an enormous
cock. Long, thick, and to her shock, she realized he wasn’t fully hard. Simultaneously she was aroused but also a bit afraid; a penis that big would be nothing short of painful, yet still there was something unbearably intriguing about considering the possibilities.
The man cupped his hand around his shaft. His fingers didn’t touch so massive was his girth. He stopped suddenly.
So enraptured by his unusual genitals, she forgot the words he should speak.
He bit his lip and glanced up at her. Finally, he bellowed, “Can I look at you?”
It wasn’t quite right, but it was close enough. “You may gaze upon me.”
Eyes riveted to her breasts, he stroked himself with his left hand. After only a few rubs, his cock was fully erect. A deep blue vein along the top of the shaft pulsed dully in the azure light. Thrusting his hips forward, he eagerly displayed himself to her while increasing his pace. Back and forth, he worked his hand. His tongue crept to the edge of his mouth, making him appear to be in deep concentration.
Restlessly, Ariss squirmed against the throne, trying to imagine what he would feel like within her. Gods, she’d barely be able to move without crushing him with her sex. As if in answer, her passage clamped around the stone. Angling her hips back, she pressed her clit against the seat, but the polished stone offered no texture, only pressure, which wasn’t enough to push her over the edge. A climax hovered just out of her reach.
The man before her was incredibly large, but he also had tremendous staying power. Each time she thought he had reached the peak of pleasure, he pulled himself back by exerting pressure to the base of his staff. Watching him move hypnotized her. Time slowed with each mesmerizing stroke. She knew the time was close as his face scrunched up. Clenching his eyes and lips together distorted his features, making him look slightly squished, which somehow only made his cock appear bigger. When he finally erupted, a beautiful pure white jet gushed from the tip of his cock, arched in the air, and splashed at her feet.
His body sagged with relief.
After a few moments to recover, his face unclenched and he gazed at her with curious pride. “Did I do well?”
“You have pleased me greatly.”
He wasn’t the most sophisticated man who’d ever come before her, but he would make some woman, some very large woman, extremely happy. Suddenly to her mind flashed an image of Bithia. Given her lascivious nature, she would find a man like this most welcome. While the man covered himself with his ripped loincloth, Ariss drew one of the acolytes near and suggested that he would find favor if he introduced the guard to the empress.
“Perhaps he can guard her at her next official function.”
A baffled look washed over his plain features until he saw the still sizable penis the man covered with his cloth. The acolyte nodded slyly, then departed.
Ariss turned her attention to her next tribute.
As she enjoyed each man who came before her, she couldn’t help thinking of Kerrick. What would he try to do? She hated to seem so pessimistic, but she didn’t see a way out of their dilemma. Things would only get worse after her child was born. Once she healed, Tavarus wouldn’t have to hold back in his pursuit of forcing her to enjoy the pain he dispensed.
As evening grew close, she thought that the ceremony was almost over. To her great disappointment, Kerrick entered, his shoulders slumped, his head hung low. Whatever he’d tried to do clearly hadn’t worked. Visions of spending a lifetime with him but unable to touch him broke her heart.
Kerrick lifted his face and looked right at her. His pupils were so wide they ate up all the color of his gaze. Her mouth fell open and a scream caught in her throat.
19
As he strode away from Ariss’ rooms, dull fury replaced the revulsion in Kerrick’s gut. He would not become Tavarus’ puppet. His demonstration this morning was to show Kerrick that at any time, he could command his body, force him to do his bidding, and worse, make him enjoy the atrocities he committed. Just the thought of getting pleasure from abusing Ariss was enough to make him consider suicide.
When he’d contemplated the notion, Tavarus trickled into the back of his mind, warning him that he would never allow him to take that option. Without Kerrick, Tavarus couldn’t manifest himself physically. There was no way he would allow him or another to harm the body he considered his personal toy.
Kerrick wondered why Tavarus didn’t just possess him outright and throw Kerrick’s soul into the vast nothingness. After long consideration, he decided that doing so would render Tavarus a mortal, something he would rather not be. If by some bizarre occurrence Kerrick were mortally wounded, Tavarus would simply depart unscathed. Tavarus wanted the best of both worlds; all the lofty power of being a god in Jarasine, and yet he could still dabble in pleasures of the flesh on Diola.
Determined to find an answer, Kerrick had hastily dressed and left Ariss in the care of Donlan. Kerrick marched in great hallway-eating strides. He slowed when he realized he didn’t know where he was going. At first, he thought of going to the training rooms and discussing the problem with Chur. The man was a demigod, after all.
Then Kerrick decided against telling Chur what was going on. If Chur thought Ariss were at risk, he would remove Ker-rick from her side. Chur would do anything to protect the life Ariss carried. Kerrick decided he would seek out Chur only as a last option. Kerrick would rather spend eternity in the gannett than hurt the woman he loved. But until he was forced to make that choice, he had to remain free to find a way to solve their problem.
He wanted to be with Ariss. He knew she wanted to be with him. They were together, but not in the full measure each desired. What they’d shared last night had been a poignant reminder of everything they could have together, if only they didn’t have a vengeful god destroying their plans. They would never survive with Tavarus inserting himself into their relationship whenever the whim possessed him. As Kerrick looked ahead to the future, he saw Ariss turned into a demoralized pain slave and he her abusive master. Shuddering with disgust, he swore he would find a way to stop that from transpiring.
Suddenly, the answer struck Kerrick so hard he halted in midstride. Like all gods, Tavarus had a female counterpart. He’d even said her name this morning. With his mocking smirk, Tavarus had said, “Even Varnatha doesn’t possess such a greedy little cunt.”
Varnatha was the goddess of the Harvesters. In her own right, she was just as powerful as Tavarus. She was the goddess of war and sex, which made her a formidable woman. A formidable woman who would be greatly displeased to find her counterpart taking liberties with a mortal woman. God or no, Tavarus was paired with Varnatha. Kerrick had a feeling that Varnatha, like any woman, had her pride. If she found out Tavarus were cheating on her, she probably wouldn’t take the news well.
His purpose renewed, Kerrick turned sharply on his heel and headed toward the temple. Two acolytes eagerly held the curtain open for him, granting him entrance. He paused, confused for a moment, until he remembered today was tribute day. Ariss would sit on her naughty throne and watch every guard in the palace masturbate.
Personally, he found the entire process debasing. He didn’t like having to perform for anyone, not unless it was of his own volition. However, he suspected that Ariss enjoyed her time in the temple. When he put himself in her place, it wasn’t difficult to see why. If he got to lounge about while woman after woman fell to her knees to masturbate before him, he would jump at the chance to receive tribute. Unfortunately for him, that was never going to happen.
Many parts of Diolan culture had duality, but this was not one of them, mainly because a man couldn’t carry the child of a god. Supposedly, the tribute was to Tavarus, even though on the surface, the act seemed geared toward Ariss. Still, Kerrick suspected that Tavarus hung close to Ariss during this time. Tavarus would enjoy watching her sitting upon his likeness with his carved cock plunged inside. Knowing him as he did, such a scenario would be extremely pleasing to Tavarus. It wouldn’t surprise him, either, if Tavar
us placed himself within the stone so that he could vicariously feel Ariss’ reactions.
It was this notion that gave him the idea for how to reach Varnatha. If Tavarus hung near to his likeness, and surely, he did, because that’s how he’d supposedly impregnated Ariss, then it stood to reason that Varnatha could be compelled to enter her likeness and possibly hear Kerrick’s plea. Or so he hoped. Ariss had been involved in a form of punishment when her encounter with the god occurred. Kerrick was hoping he could achieve a similar result without having a portion of Var-natha’s statue inserted into his body. If her stone likeness were big enough, perhaps he would have to insert his penis into it to get her attention. If that were what it took, he would do it, no matter how silly he looked or felt in doing so. One way or another, he would get Varnatha’s attention. Of course, all of his speculation was moot if he couldn’t find a statue of her.
Probably the only reason Tavarus allowed Kerrick the freedom of his own thoughts without censoring him was that Tavarus was otherwise occupied with Ariss. Today would be the only chance Kerrick would have to put his slapped-together plan into action. Once Tavarus returned to his mind, he would know everything Kerrick had even considered doing. He simply wouldn’t have a second opportunity.
Once the fabric door closed behind him, Kerrick gave himself a moment to acclimate to the smoky air and odd blue lighting. Several acolytes motioned him toward the area where Ariss’ throne sat. He headed that way. As soon as their backs were turned, he slipped behind the fabric-shrouded walls and worked his way around the temple.
Long ago, he’d seen a gilded picture book, one he clearly wasn’t supposed to see given his father’s reaction to finding him with it, but Kerrick would never forget one of the exquisite paintings within the pages. A tall woman with enormous breasts sat astride a warrior. She was dressed like a warrior, too, but most of her outfit seemed to be missing. In her right hand, she held a curved sword aloft, what Kerrick now knew as a cirvant, and in her left, she cupped the warrior’s head to her breast. Her head was back, her mouth open in a triumphant battle cry. Some magical wind furled the strands of her long black hair in graceful curls behind her. Both she and the man were incredibly muscular. Bronzed flesh and glistening sweat made each muscle more pronounced. Something about the picture had intrigued him, but he’d only been ten seasons old, not quite mature enough to understand what was going on.
[The Onic Empire 03] - Sinful Harvest Page 25