Sating the Lust God

by Kate Hill

  Tamanna’s eyelids fluttered and drooped. His touch was like a powerful potion, lulling yet arousing her at the same time. Before she knew what was happening, her eyes closed and she followed the gentle tug of his four hands. Something velvety soft yet incredibly hard brushed against her cheek, then her lips.

  She instinctively knew it was his cock. Her eyes still closed, she groped for it. Two of his hands guided hers around the staff. It was long and thick, the skin soft. He carried a faint masculine scent that instantly made her wet. She moistened her lips with her tongue before taking his cockhead into her mouth. Her tongue swirled around it, lapping the tantalizing crown. She licked the underside, then sucked it gently.

  “Harder, lovely one,” he said.

  Unable to resist, she did as he ordered, drawing him deeper and deeper into her mouth until his cock brushed the back of her throat. After several moments, he withdrew almost to the tip so she could once again explore the crown of his erection.

  Now completely involved in her task, she lapped and sucked while running her hands along the shaft, squeezing and stroking at varying speeds. One of her hands reached down and cupped as much of his sac as she could fit into her palm.

  A low groan escaped his throat and the sound of it seemed to strike her in both her heart and her pussy. Her breathing was much quicker now, and her nipples ached nearly as much as her clit. Though her legs still trembled, it was no longer with fear, but with passion. She wanted to feel his hard cock plunging deep inside her, yet she couldn’t tear her mouth away from its carnal duty. Licking and sucking him was far too arousing.

  Two of his hands were buried in her hair, holding her close to his thrusting pelvis while his other two reached down and fondled her breasts.

  Tamanna whimpered around his cock, sobs of pleasure bubbling from her throat as he tenderly pinched her nipples. His expert hands squeezed her breasts, then lifted their weight while rolling his thumbs over their pebble-hard tips.

  Between the pleasure of sucking his cock and the marvelous sensation of his hands on her breasts, she was on the verge of climax. How could she possibly come before he did? By rights he should have already exploded from the force of her attack on his staff, but he was still hard as a rock and, other than an occasional groan of delight, seemed in perfect control of his body.

  He pushed her away. Panting, she stared up at him. His pupils were dilated, his nostrils slightly flared, and his lips parted. His chest rose and fell rapidly and Tamanna might have smiled with satisfaction if she hadn’t been overwhelmed by need.

  “Come,” he said, grasping her arm and tugging her toward the bed. “On your back. Close to the edge.”

  Quivering with passion, she climbed onto the bed and lay at the foot of it, her legs hanging off the end. It wasn’t very high off the ground, so when he knelt and guided her legs around his waist, his cock slid into her easily. Though he had moved rather quickly, she was very wet and there was little discomfort. His swiftness did take her by surprise, however, and she cried out, as much from shock as from desire.

  He paused, his hips remaining still while he waited for her to fully adjust to his entry. After a moment, she relaxed a bit, though her entire body still trembled and her heart pounded like she’d run for miles. Through half closed eyes she watched his hands caress her breasts. A hand slipped under her buttocks. A finger pushed between her bottom cheeks and pressed against her sphincter. Tamanna panted. Blood pounded through her entire body. Surely the sensations couldn’t get any better than this?

  Oh, yes, they could! His fourth hand reached between them, tracing the joining of his cock and her pussy, gathering some of her feminine dew with his fingertip. He then used the slick digit to rub her clit while he shifted his hips, his cock thrusting into her.

  Closing her eyes, Tamanna gasped and writhed. Every sexually sensitive area was being stimulated at once. Even in her dreams, pleasure had never been this good.

  Her head arched back, every muscle in her body tense. She knew she couldn’t hold out. Not like this.

  “Cry out,” he demanded, his voice raw and even deeper than before. “Shout for me, lovely one.”

  “Ah,” Tamanna shrieked. Over and over she moaned and sobbed while her body thrashed and he continued stroking and thrusting. Pussy, ass, clit, and breasts were all stimulated at once. “Great Chand, oh please. Please! Please!”

  His thrusts came faster and harder. Tamanna was no longer aware of anything but the pleasure coursing through her from head to toe.

  With a savage cry, she came. Her back arched off the bed and her breasts thrust hard against his hands. Massive pulsations broke over her, stealing her breath.

  Chand’s attentions never ceased. His hands and cock drove her body until the very last spasm shook her.

  Tamanna lay, stunned, her eyes closed, her chest heaving with each ragged breath. Her hands and legs trembled for several moments. Finally her pulse slowed and she gathered the strength to open her eyes.

  Still kneeling, his stiff cock buried deep inside her, Chand smiled slightly. Sweat misted his handsome face and glistened on his chest.

  “Recovered?” he asked.

  “I… I’m not sure,” she murmured.

  He smiled wickedly and thrust his hips, slowly, rhythmically. Though Tamanna had been certain the orgasm she had just experienced had drained her for the night, his motions began to stir her desire again.

  The marvelous tightening started deep inside her. Rather than caress her nipples, which had become too sensitive for such direct stimulation, he cupped her breasts and kneaded them. His hand squeezed her bottom at the same time his thumb rolled over her clit. It, too, was almost painfully sensitive, but somehow she still wanted him to touch it. He seemed to know this and caressed it with the utmost gentleness, a mere brushing of his thumb up its center, then down each of its sides. He repeated the motion over and over while his cock thrust a bit faster.

  “Oh, My Lord, surely you’ll kill me,” she murmured.

  “No. You have a fine, strong body. Your powerful heartbeat fills my ears and the scent of your lust is like the headiest perfume. It would take much more than a few hours of lovemaking to kill you.”

  A few hours? He had to be jesting. Now she was truly beginning to understand why he was called the Lust God.

  Tamanna’s head tossed back and forth with passion. Sooner than she imagined possible, she was teetering on the verge of another climax. This time she forced herself to look at him, to judge if he was any closer to joining her in bliss.

  His beautiful eyes were half closed, his lips slightly parted. His chest expanded with each measured breath. Obviously he was controlling his breathing, since the arteries in his taut neck pulsed fast and visibly.

  In the midst of her rapidly climbing pleasure, she began tightening her vaginal muscles, hoping to force him into a shared orgasm. Unfortunately, her actions only spurred her own desire.

  His thumb flicked over her clit while his staff drove in and out of her drenched pussy. Unable to resist, Tamanna closed her eyes and cried out sharply as yet another orgasm, just as powerful as the first, rocked through her.

  While she lay panting, she felt him slip out of her. She opened her eyes, scarcely believing the sight of his still hard cock, glistening with her juices. It looked ready to burst, the head flushed, a creamy droplet beading upon the eye.

  Sitting up, she watched him sprawl on the bed, his legs open, a hand curled around his staff. He stroked it with long, sweeping motions, his eyes fixed upon it. When those eyes finally met hers, they were burning with hunger.

  “Please, Great Chand,” she asked, crawling toward him on the bed. “Let me…”

  She knelt between his legs and placed her hand over his on his cock. His grasp loosened and he entwined his fingers with hers. Their gazes locked and once again that desperate, lonely look filled his eyes, only to be hidden when he closed them and settled his head more comfortably on the pillow.

  “Pleasure me, woman.�
�

  She didn’t need to be told twice. Grasping his enormous staff in both hands, Tamanna began licking and sucking the head with a vengeance. After the joy he had given her, she wanted to repay him. It amazed her that such a boorish creature, even if he was a god, could inspire powerful emotions within her. He frustrated, confused, yet completely aroused her.

  Tenderly, she ran her teeth along his staff, then lapped the head. With the tip of her tongue, she traced the underside and prodded the tiny eye on the crown of his erection. Then she took him deeply into her mouth and sucked hard.

  His breath hoarsened. In his state of arousal, she didn’t doubt he would come quickly, but this time she wanted to be sure. Her eyes closed, she worked in a fast, steady rhythm, driving him relentlessly. His hips lifted, though she sensed he was holding back to keep from hurting her. She wished she could tell him it was all right, that she wanted him to enjoy every moment. The best and only way to do this would be to show him.

  Her hands stroked his shaft and she sucked faster, swirling her tongue around him. Panting hard, he grasped her hair and her shoulders. His hands were trembling slightly. A guttural sound escaped his throat and his body arched. He came, quivering with ultimate pleasure.

  Chapter Five

  Not even two hours after their lovemaking session began, the woman lay in a deep sleep atop the black satin sheets. Beside her, Chand lounged on his side, his chin propped on his hand, and gazed at her, puzzled by his strange reaction to her.

  He never allowed women to sleep in his bed. When their session ended, he either invited them to sleep on the floor, if he had intentions of taking them again that night, or dismissed them to sleep in an adjoining room.

  Purging one’s lust with a woman was one thing, sharing something as intimate as sleep was another. Sleep was vulnerability, complete exposure.

  She was no different than the other women he’d been with, so why allow her to sleep in his bed?

  His gaze lingered over the soft curve of her cheek, then fixed on her parted lips. Unable to resist, he gently touched a fingertip to her temple and drew an invisible trail down the side of her face and along her jaw line. Obviously exhausted by the excitement of the day combined with their lovemaking, she didn’t stir.

  Grinding his teeth, Chand withdrew his hand sharply and rose from the bed, his fists clenched. There was no purpose in watching a woman sleep. Usually after his yearly mate collapsed from weariness, he ordered a priest to move her to the adjoining room while he visited the harem. This year should be no different.

  His other women were awaiting him and should not be disappointed. This was his chance to see that they were being well treated and not abused by the greedy parasites holding them captive.

  No sooner had he stepped out of his chamber than a priest approached.

  His hands twisting in front of him and eyes downcast, he spoke in a quivering voice, “Great Lord, do you wish for the woman to be moved from your bed?”

  Inexplicably, Chand’s temper rose. “If I want the woman moved, I will order it.”

  “Yes, My Lord.” His voice scarcely a whisper, the priest stepped away, though he dared raise his eyes to face the Lust God. In his expression, Chand noted that his fear extended beyond the usual terror of the Lust God’s wrath. The priest disapproved of the woman remaining in his chamber, just as the parasites disapproved of him choosing his mate immediately rather than selecting ten to compete. They feared that he, the most cold and cunning of gods, would succumb to the lure of a mere mortal woman.

  Chand bared his teeth and backed the priest against the wall. “Leave this wing of the temple. You and your pathetic companions will not come here again unless summoned, is that understood?”

  “Yes, Great Chand.”

  “Then be gone,” roared the Lust God. The back of his hand cracked across the priest’s face, knocking him onto his hands and knees. Terrified, the black-robed maggot crawled away before staggering to his feet at the end of the corridor and running off.

  Grinding his teeth, Chand strode down the opposite corridor and up a flight of stairs.

  The harem took up an entire wing of the temple. Decorated with lush velvet, silk, tapestries, and carpets, it contained all the comforts money could buy. No expense was spared for clothing, food, or entertainment. There was even a garden on an enormous balcony outside the bathing chamber. The harem was a paradise for women, yet each year Chand could not ignore the sadness and longing emanating from his past mates. The priests themselves never harmed them, even when they took their blood. If any of the women experienced physical pain, Chand would see it in their eyes and the priests would pay dearly.

  He could spare them from agonies of the flesh, yet their emotional suffering was beyond his control, unless he decided to abandon his only link to this world.

  Telling himself that the women had chosen to give up their lives outside the temple, that they had known they would forever leave their families and friends, should have eased his mind, yet it didn’t. He ignored the sorrow in their expressions, sorrow that most of them tried to hide beneath worshipping smiles.

  Other than when the priests took their blood, his was the only male contact they experienced. Once a year, between lovemaking sessions with his new mate, he would satisfy them during an extended orgy. The ones who had grown too old to enjoy his body, he comforted through touch and conversation.

  Many of the women still adored him, while others had developed bitter hatred, though none admitted such loathing outwardly. He sensed it, and he overlooked it. To them, he was as much a monster as the priests.

  After their week with him, they knew the truth about the Copulisiac Ritual. It was not meant to save humans from an epidemic, but to grant the priests eternal life.

  In spite of his great power, the Lust God was as much a victim as the women themselves.

  No! Chand growled deep in his throat, slamming all four fists against the corridor’s stone wall. Where were these thoughts coming from? The Great Chand was no victim, at least not of the priests. It was the other gods, his own kind, his family, who had slapped him in bonds and tied him to the netherworld.

  Any other thoughts were weak, and they didn’t come from Chand, but from Kabir.

  You know that’s not true, Kabir’s internal voice whispered. Just like me and the women, you are a victim, Lust God. You are so alone and desperate for contact that you bargain with your very blood, like a whore.

  Shut up, boy!

  No. I will not shut up. I cannot.

  Closing his eyes tightly, Chand concentrated on burying Kabir even deeper within him. Finally, the nagging voice was silenced. Panting, Chand stood for a moment, willing himself to calm.

  Once he’d mastered his temper, he opened the door to the harem’s main room where most of the women spent the day.

  No sooner had he stepped inside than the women’s laughter and conversation ceased. They stared at him, frozen in the midst of day-to-day activities -- drinking tea, painting, dancing, sewing, or caring for the oldest and weakest among them.

  Murmurs of “Great Chand” and “My Lord” echoed throughout the room as the silk-clad women crowded around him. The boldest reached for his arms or knelt, running their soft hands over his legs.

  “Great Chand, pleasure us.”

  “We’ve missed you.”

  “Just a kiss --” Gentle hands caressed his neck.

  “And a touch --” Another hand stroked his inner thigh.

  “Back,” Chand stated. Gazing at him with eyes shining with anger, hatred, and lust, they sat on their knees, forming a circle around him.

  He almost wanted to look away, but the Lust God would show no weakness.

  “Have you been well treated?” he asked. “Tell me if there is anything you require.”

  The next couple of hours were spent talking with his women, accepting their kisses and caresses while ensuring himself that the priests had fulfilled their end of the bargain. Finally satisfied that the members of his h
arem had not been abused, he made an exit, anxious to leave their bejeweled prison.

  “Great Lord,” one of the younger women reached for his hand, her brown eyes holding his with unfulfilled passion, “will you not make love with us?”

  He glanced at them -- women who had come to him for wealth, for the chance to copulate with a god, to give up their freedom for a lie spun by the priests. None of them had ever looked at him with a semblance of affection, not that he expected, even wanted them to. Why, then, were his thoughts spinning with the image of the woman awaiting him in his chamber?

  The only desire in her expression was for him, all of him, body and mind. Unlike these others, she had tried talking to him, even if it was just a tiny overture such as offering her name.

  “Take us,” another woman begged, slipping off her mesh gown and fully exposing her naked curves. Several others mimicked her gesture.

  The scent of their warm, perfumed flesh filled him, yet his cock stirred only when he thought of the woman in his chamber.

  “Not now,” he said, his voice rougher than usual.

  They stared at him, taken aback. It was the first time he had ever refused them.

  Without a backward glance, he strode out of the harem and returned to his chamber.

  He stepped inside, his gaze fixing on the woman who stood, naked, over a basin of water. She glanced up, her face and breasts streaked with moisture, a towel clutched in her hands.

  A slight smile touched her lips. “My Lord, I wondered where you had --”

  “I gave you no leave to speak.”

  She fell silent, though a combination of hurt and anger glistened in her eyes.

  This woman definitely had spirit.

  He reached her in three long strides. Grasping her arm, he dragged her across the room and pushed her onto the rug in front of the hearth.

  “Wait,” she said.

  Chand grasped her jaw a bit too tightly and glared into her eyes. “I told you not to speak.”

  “You want to hurt me.” He couldn’t decide if it was a question or an accusation. All he knew was she had defied him more in one evening than any member of his harem had done in the past hundred years.