by Jaid Black
As his beloved nee’ka would say, good grief.
Zor rubbed his weary temples as he listened to his brother Dak put questions to the High Mystik of the Gy’at Li sector. ‘Twas going to be a long moon-rising, he decided on a martyr’s sigh. He was anxious to leave, anxious to take his nee’ka to Zideon that they might be reunited with their hatchling. Yet he was also of a mind to know that wee Jana and Dari were passing fair.
“I want,” Dak ground out, “to have my hatchlings back anon.” His nostrils flared. “I do not believe for even a Nuba-second that you’ve no idea where they’ve gone off to.”
Klykka’s eyebrows rose at his imperious tone, but she said nothing of it. “Mayhap if you warriors had shown a care for their feelings whilst growing up they never would have fled to begin with.”
“I was given no choice,” Dak gritted, pausing in his speech long enough to throw a sour look Zor’s way. “I had to remove Dari to Arak. Leastways, this talk is all for naught. Your Emperor has issued you a direct order and ‘tis for a certainty you will obey it.”
“You are lucky, wench,” Kil hissed, his eyes narrowing at the High Mystik from where he was seated next to Lord Death across the raised table, “that my brother did not sentence you to the gulch pits for your treason.” He flung an arm about wildly. “You aided and abetted the escape of three royal hatchlings!” he shouted. “Our family has grieved Kara and Jana’s ‘passing’ for o’er five years.” He slashed his hand through the air. “For a certainty you would be gulch beast food if I were Emperor.”
Klykka rolled her eyes, not at all intimated. “I shall praise the holy sands that you are not then,” she said dryly.
Kil merely grunted.
Klykka schooled her features into a fashionably bored mask. In truth, she was more than a wee bit frightened. Not for her own fate, for she knew she had been within the rights of the Holy Law to aid wenches she believed to be political prisoners on their home planet, but more so she was worried for Dari, Jana, and Kari. She hadn’t been telling untruths when she’d declared to the warriors that she had no clue as to their whereabouts. A gastrolight storm the moon-rising prior had sizzled out the main holo-communicator within her stronghold and the last she’d heard from the women warriors of her command, ‘twas still not functioning properly. And so, ‘twas truth she had no notion as to their position.
Leastways, the High Mystik told herself, she could do naught but try to distract the warlords, and hope against hope that her stalling would provide enough time for the lot of them to flee Galis. She prayed to the goddess that they had not yet been caught, sending up a quick plea to Aparna to humbly ask for her omnipotent intervention. These warriors, she thought acidly, considered naught but how the absence of the wenches affected them. If she was forced to endure one more diatribe on the rights of a Sacred Mate or the rights of a sire, she would like as naught gag.
Klykka sat up straighter on her vesha bench, her dark eyes narrowing seductively as she ran a tongue across her lips. When the nipples of her unbound breasts began to harden and elongate of seemingly their own volition, Zor narrowed his eyes.
“Stop it,” he grunted.
She batted her eyelashes as if innocent. “Stop what, Excellent One? I am but your humble servant thinking to entertain you in the proper, traditional Galian manner.”
He harrumphed at that. “You think to distract us more like.”
Klykka pretended to be shocked. “Whatever do you mean?” she asked in a tone of voice sweeter than migi-candy.
Kil grunted, his eyes narrowing. “Thrice you have been issued a direct command to tell us where the Q’ana Tal hatchlings are hidden, and thrice now you have answered us by bringing us to peak.” His jaw clenched hotly. “I do not wish to be brought to peak!” he bellowed.
When it occurred to him what he had just said, he felt his cheeks redden. When the warriors gathered about began to uncomfortably clear their throats, said cheeks flamed from red to scarlet. “Leastways,” he sniffed, “my leathers are fair soaked from the last two times. ‘Tis hard to find replacements for them so far removed from Morak,” he finished dumbly.
Zor rolled his eyes.
Klykka paid neither warrior any heed whatsoever. She threw a long black tress o’er her shoulder, then stood up and removed the bottom to her zoka. The warriors moaned when they felt her telekinetically send out sexual pulses, then groaned when she began to massage her nipples as she slowly walked towards Jek Q’an Ri, Kil’s commander.
“Oh nay,” Dak said hoarsely as he closed his eyes tightly, “the wench thinks to impale herself upon our cousin’s rod this time.”
Zor whimpered. “’Twas a hard enough spurt the last time. And that with naught but a mental push.”
Kil’s head fell back on a groan. “’Tis for a certainty we shall sleep for hours rather than minutes this time.” He clamped a hand to his forehead. “I pray to the goddess that Mari packed me a fresh pair of leathers.”
“Geris will know,” Dak said grimly. “Leastways, she knows everything.” He moaned as another wave of sexual titillation was sent his way. “’Twill be the war of wars when I remove myself to Ti Q’won.”
Zor’s eyes began to roll back in his head. “If the erotic arts performers who ventured into Sand City had been so talented, I would have expired before ever I’d set out to capture my nee’ka.” He moaned grimly. “Where is Kyra when I need the wench? She and Rem have been removed to Valor City o’er long.”
Their chatter turned into fierce groans as they watched the naked High Mystik run her fingers through Jek’s mane of hair. Their cousin tried to remain strong, tried to fight off the desire to couple with Klykka, but being unmated…‘twas looking as though ‘twas mission impossible.
Jek’s gaze ran o’er the length of the High Mystik. “Stop it, wench,” he hissed. “You will tell the Emperor anon where the hatchlings are.”
Klykka ignored him, deciding instead to remove his cock from his leathers. “Oh,” she breathed out. “’Tis exceedingly large.” She licked her lips, meaning the compliment. No males within her harem were possessed of such huge manparts.
Jek gritted his teeth when she cupped his balls and began massaging them. His cousins had long teased him that he was the wiliest warrior amongst them for ‘twas common to find his rod buried within a hot channel at any given time. Whenever none within the Palace of Mirrors could find him, they knew to check within the harem chamber. If he was not training or warring, ‘twas where he could always be found. Yet now his strong need was working against him. He needed to resist her. If only he could distract—
Jek sucked in his breath when the wench wrapped her lips around the head of his cock. Her hands continued to massage his man sac whilst her tongue suctioned his shaft into the heat of her mouth, taking him all the way in until he could feel the back of her throat. His nostrils flared. “Cease this,” he hoarsely commanded her.
“Mmm nay.” Klykka closed her eyes and enjoyed the feel of him, speaking on the subject no more. She loved cocks. She loved sucking them and fucking them. ‘Twas why she was forever battling, finding more to add to her collection of bound servants. But warriors…Galian wenches went out of their way to avoid them, so ‘twas a rare treat indeed to suckle a cock so large and thick. She intended to savor the moment.
Jek groaned as he watched his shaft disappear into the High Mystik’s mouth, o’er and o’er, again and again. Down on her knees before him, her head bobbing up and down upon his lap, he couldn’t resist the urge to watch her work upon him. And so before he could think better on it, his hand moved to grasp her dark hair, and he brushed it out of her face that he might watch her suckle of him. “Good goddess,” he breathed out.
She was like an animal. Klykka sucked harder and harder, faster and faster, her eyes closed in bliss, her throat issuing primitive moans whilst she feverishly worked up and down the length of him. The sucking sounds her lips made coupled with her extreme talent at doing so, made his jaw clench tightly. As if on i
nstinct, his hands reached down for her breasts, and he cupped them whilst he massaged her nipples and watched her mouth devour him.
“Oh aye.” Klykka’s head bobbed up into his line of vision when the nipple massage became too arousing to continue suckling him. Naked, she climbed up onto his lap, gasping at the sensual jolts going through her. “Tug at them,” she whispered, arching her back that her chest was thrust closer to him. “Please.”
Beads of sweat broke out upon Jek’s forehead. He wanted to stop, wanted to keep her from causing the room to pass out in a fit of peak, yet the arousal she was experiencing was being transferred to him, making him feel the same way, making him crave more and more, making him want—nay need—to bury his cock deep inside of her body. He could hear the moans of the warriors around him and knew that he had to remain strong.
The High Mystik smiled slowly, knowing as she did that his trying was all for naught. “’Tis no use, handsome one,” she whispered as she cupped one of her breasts and ran her elongated nipple o’er his lips. “Open up for me. ‘Tis impossible to resist and well you know it.”
Jek’s nostrils flared at the taunt. He removed his lips from her nipple. “Cease your witchery,” he said thickly.
The nipple looked so ripe, so suckable, so hard and delicious. He gritted his teeth. “Cease this anon.” Each word became quieter, less forceful.
She grinned. “I have studied the art of peaking for more Yessat years than you’ve been alive, feisty one.” Her dark eyes narrowed, glazing o’er in passion as they found his glowing blue ones. “Suckle me,” she murmured as she ran the tip of her nipple o’er his lips again. “You are not mated. I can give you pleasure as no other ever has,” she breathed out.
Jek felt as though he was going mad. He was a warrior. Nature had declared that his sexual need would always be great. He was torn between instinct and duty. ‘Twas torture, this.
His breathing grew labored as he felt his large hands clutch her fleshy buttocks and dig into them. Before he could stop himself, his mouth opened and his tongue darted out to curl around the High Mystik’s nipple.
“Mmm aye,” she said on a breathy moan. She began to rock her hips atop his lap, the entrance of her wet channel running o’er the head of his engorged manhood.
Jek’s nostrils flared, his jaw clenched, and yet he could no sooner stop breathing than stop sucking on her nipple. He drew the piece of elongated flesh between his lips and firmly sucked it from root to tip, o’er and o’er again. Her moans made his stomach muscles clench. Her soaking wet cunt continued to tease the head of his manhood, until he felt as though he’d die on the spot if she didn’t impale herself upon him.
The torture of fighting her combined with the torture of wanting her was making him delirious. Teasing him—she kept teasing him. The engorged flesh of her channel kept stroking o’er his cock, promising to envelop him within but never doing so. He had to fight her, he thought desperately. He had to—
“Just do it,” he heard Kil groan from across the chamber. “Take her and get it o’er with.”
‘Twas all the justification he needed. Tearing his mouth away from her nipple, he growled low in his throat, surprising a gasp out of the High Mystik. She sucked in her breath as he clutched her hips, then groaned long and loud whilst he sheathed himself fully within her flesh.
“Aye,” Klykka moaned, her eyes closing as he used his large hands to force her hips down upon him in deep, rapid strokes. Her breasts jiggled with each thrust, sensitizing them all the more. Against his large frame she knew she looked like naught but a doll, riding up and down the length of his huge shaft. The thought turned her on all the more, so she threw back her head and bounced away upon him, gluttonously loving every moment of the impaling. “Harder,” she panted. “More.”
Jek gave up the fight entirely, the nature of his species taking o’er to revel in the feel of her tight, milking flesh wrapped about him, preparing to contract about him. “Aye,” he murmured, his teeth gritting. “Reach your pleasure upon me.”
Klykka gasped as she rode him, her moans coming harder and louder as she bounced up and down. Her clit was stimulated with each down stroke, which in turn hardened her nipples further and induced need to knot in her belly. She could hear their flesh slapping together, could smell the heady scent of their combined arousal. When his tongue curled once more around her nipple and drew it back into his mouth for a suckling, she could take no more.
“Aye,” she cried out, her hips rocking deliriously against him. Another fiercer contraction tore through her, and she screamed as her entire body clenched and then convulsed atop him.
Jek gritted his teeth, the sexual flickers her peaking sent out catapulting him into a near maddened state. He groaned low in his throat as his fingers dug into the flesh of her hips, then spurted his warm liquid within her on a growl.
All throughout the chamber, warriors convulsed and moaned. On Klykka’s third, final, and harshest peak, moans turned into tortured groans as the entire room orgasmed, then passed out.
Breathing roughly, Klykka smiled down at Jek. Unable to resist touching him before climbing off his big body, she bent her head and sipped softly at his lips. Telling herself there was no time to lose, she removed his manhood from her pussy with a suctioning sound, then scrambled to her feet.
Her eyes darted toward the crystal staircase above. She glanced back at the chamber of passed out warriors once more to make certain all were in deep slumber before she darted toward the twisting stairs, taking them two at a time as she ran up.
She had to find her sisters via the holo-communicator. She could only pray the wenches of her command had fixed it whilst she’d been busily stalling.
* * * * *
Kyra’s lips pinched together in a frown as she gazed down at her snoring husband. Her eyes narrowed in confusion when she took note of the large wet stain permeating the pair of leathers he wore. Crouching down to touch them, her nostrils flared when she realized it was semen.
“What the hell is going on?” she bit out to Rem without looking up at him. “Why are all of these warriors passed out?” She huffed as she glanced around. “And why are all of them wet from their own orgasms?”
Rem sighed. “It looks as though the High Mystik sought to stall their questions.”
Kyra harrumphed, her arms crossing under her breasts. “It looks like she did better than stall them. It looks as though they’ve been knocked completely out of commission for a while now.”
“Aye.”
She harrumphed again, then began gently slapping at Zor’s face in the hopes of rousing him. “Wake up,” she chided him. “Please Zor—wake up!”
When five Nuba-minutes had passed by and her husband continued snoring as loudly as ever, she gave up with a groan. “Now what do we do?” She looked up at Rem. “Where is the High Mystik anyway?”
Rem’s gaze was narrowed thoughtfully. “I know not for a certainty,” he murmured. “But I think I’ve a lock on her. We had best go find her.”
Kyra studied his face for a suspended moment. She knew he still hadn’t totally recovered from his brush with devolution. Almost, but not quite. The result being, she reminded herself, that he sensed things a lot clearer than the average warrior did. Like an animal, his hearing was keener, his sense of smell more acute. If he thought he’d located her, then he probably had.
“Okay,” she said as she made to stand up. “I’m right behind—oomph.”
Kyra sighed as she lost her balance and landed flat on her rump. “These damn boobs,” she muttered as she came up onto her knees and held a hand out to Rem for aid. “How many more years of not bearing children do I have left until they go away already?”
Rem chuckled. “Mayhap just a few more, sister.” He took her hand and pulled her up to her feet. “Gis is the exact opposite of you. She nigh unto worships her moosoos.”
Kyra shook her head and grinned. “How many children do the two of you have now? Twenty? Thirty?”
“
Eight,” Rem said proudly. He guided her toward the staircase. “All sons save Zari.”
Kyra looked up the long, twisting flight of stairs and sighed dejectedly.
Rem wiggled his eyebrows. “Too much effort with the moosoos?”
“Yes,” she said forlornly.
He was preparing to sweep her up into his arms and carry her, when the sound of the warriors coming-to caught up with them. They both turned around and watched them.
Kyra’s lips puckered into a tight-lipped frown as she studied Zor. His hair was a mess, his big body stretching and yawning, as he roused himself from what looked like a ten-year slumber. When at last their gazes clashed, she saw his cheeks go up in flames.
“’Tis about time you arrived, nee’ka,” Zor said defensively as he took to his feet. “Leastways,” he sniffed, “’twas wicked-bad torture that the High Mystik put us all through.”
Kyra rolled her eyes. “Gimme a break.”
Zor blushed profusely but said nothing. “Stay down below whilst we search for the nefarious Klykka,” he mumbled. His gaze shot back to the raised table where the male servants were starting to regain consciousness. “And stay away from those bedamned males whilst I’m searching,” he grumbled.
* * * * *
“Hurry!” Klykka ordered the woman warrior who was fiddling with the holo-communicator. “We’ve no time left. Those bedamned warlords will wake up the soonest and they will like as naught be feeling surly.” Her nostrils flared as she paced back and forth within the war-planning chamber. “This is taking far too long!”
“’Tis sorry I am, Your Worthiness,” the warrior woman demurred. “I am working as fast as I—ahh here we go.”
Klykka took a deep breath and released it. “Send out a distress call to Kari’s communicator anon.”
The High Mystik resumed her pacing whilst she awaited a signal to come back from Kari. She knew ‘twas a race to the finish line for if those warlords woke up before she spoke to her sister she would never get another chance to warn her. Finally, after a gut-wrenching two Nuba-minutes had ticked slowly by, the holo-screen on the far wall lit up and Kari and Dari’s faces shown through.