“Oh…of course.” Lizabeth carefully handed the dagger off to the Mistress of Law and then gave her hands to Lone, who took them in his own, much larger ones. Holding Lizabeth’s gaze, he kissed her hands…first the backs of her fingers…then the pulse-points in her wrists.
“Oh…” Lizabeth whispered. His pale gray eyes were holding hers as his hot mouth moved gently over her skin. It reminded her of the sweet way he had sucked her nipples during her first needing attack and she could feel her over-ripe breasts aching. Were her nipples beginning to leak? She hoped not but it certainly felt like it. She hoped that no one would notice since the vest she wore over them was black. Maybe she could keep it a secret.
And still Lone was kissing her hands, his gray eyes burning into hers. Finally, he laid hot, gentle kisses in the center of both her palms before, reluctantly she thought, he let her go.
“Lovely,” Mistress Anarrah breathed happily. “And so,” she went on with the story, “The First Mistress at last began to trust the first Novice, and even to care for him. But there was one thing she would not allow—though she let him serve her in all other ways, she refused to allow the First Novice to share her bed and serve her there. Until at last, he gave his oath.”
As she spoke, she gave the dagger she had been holding to Lone this time and whispered, “Unfasten your vest, dear and lay your chest bare.”
Lone did as he was asked, shrugging out of his vest and baring his broad, muscular chest. It was a mouthwatering sight, Lizabeth couldn’t help thinking, even though she knew it was an inappropriate thought.
“The First Novice knelt before the First Mistress and this is what he said,” Mistress Anarrah murmured.
On cue, Lone looked her in the eyes and spoke the same words that had made her heart flutter when she heard them for the first time the day before.
“Mistress,” he murmured, “Hear me now and may the iron pierce my heart if I lie—I mean you no harm and wish only to serve you in every way.”
“Very good,” Mistress Anarrah said encouragingly. “And now you must cut a mark over your heart with the tip of the blade—to symbolize your devotion.”
“What?” Lizabeth protested, the romantic bubble she’d somehow drifted into bursting abruptly. “Wait—why does he have to be wounded?”
“Because it’s part of the oath-taking ceremony, of course,” Mistress Verlandah snapped impatiently. “There must be blood to seal it or we cannot allow you to stay here at the Tower of the Higher Mind.”
“I don’t mind, Mistress,” Lone assured her. “I will gladly cut myself to show my devotion for you.” He looked at Mistress Anarrah. “What mark shall I make?”
“Something that symbolizes your lady,” Mistress Anarrah suggested. “Whatever makes you think of her.”
“No, wait—you’ve already shown your devotion, Lone,” Lizabeth said firmly. “You got shot in the arm getting me here safely. You shouldn’t have to be wounded again.”
“I have told you—there must be blood to seal the ceremony.” Mistress Verlandah was looking more than irritated now—her face was turning a dark, angry color and she was glaring at Lizabeth.
Lizabeth lifted her chin. Let her glare—she had no intention of allowing Lone to carve his name over her heart and have a permanent scar just to suit their stupid ritual. Then she had an idea.
“All right,” she said. “If there has to be blood—here.”
Reaching forward, she drew the tip of her right index finger over the sharp blade of the dagger. She felt a stinging pain like a paper cut and then a fat droplet of crimson welled up on the tip.
Leaning over, she carefully drew a small, distinct cursive L on the left side of Lone’s chest, right over his heart. Then she straightened up and looked at Mistress Verlandah.
“Will that work for you?”
The Mistress Superior was looking at her with some interest and Lizabeth couldn’t help noticing that her Novice, Karx, was also studying her and Lone as well. The expression on the dark, bearded face was something like hunger…and something like envy. For some reason, Lizabeth’s simple actions seemed to have made a great impression on him.
“So…you willingly spill blood for him. For your Novice,” Mistress Verlandah mused at last.
“He spilled blood for me,” Lizabeth said, frowning. “On the way here, he was shot with an arrow defending me. It’s only fair.”
“Yes, I suppose so. I wondered about the two of you.” The Mistress Superior’s sharp gray eyes scanned Lizabeth and Lone speculatively. “Now I see your relationship must be a love-match and not just a paring of convenience.”
“Excuse me?” Lizabeth raised an eyebrow at her, not understanding.
“Oh, so many of our Initiates to Knowledge come to the Tower without a true Novice,” Mistress Anarrah explained, looking sad. “They know they must bring a Novice—a younger male who longs to protect and serve them and whom they care for in turn. But since they have no one in their life who matches that description, they bring the first available male they can get their hands on. Some even hire males they’ve never met before to pretend to be their Novices.” She shivered. “It’s a dreadful sacrilege.”
“We dismiss most of them, of course,” Mistress Verlandah remarked. “We have our standards to uphold. I wasn’t certain when I first saw you if there was genuine affection between the two of you or not.” She nodded regally. “Now I see that there is. Very well, I deem this blood sacrifice acceptable—you may continue with the oath,” she added, looking at Lone.
“Thank you,” Lone murmured. He looked up at Lizabeth again. “Mistress… my body is yours to use as you see fit…my mind is yours to mold. My strength shall ward you always…my lips shall sing your praises…my tongue shall taste your honey…my heart shall beat only for you.” He leaned forward, his eyes burning into hers. “Use me,” he breathed.
“Oh,” Lizabeth whispered again. She hadn’t gotten to hear the full oath the first time he had spoken it and she found herself unexpectedly touched by the beautiful words. And the sensuous way Lone was looking at her with his pale gray eyes half-lidded and his voice a deep rumble as he begged her to “use” him, was enough to make her breasts throb and her pussy clench with need.
She was definitely leaking now—she just hoped that no one was noticing—especially not Lone.
“When the First Mistress heard those words,” Mistress Anarrah said softly, “She at last believed in the First Novice’s love and adoration for her. She allowed him into her heart and into her bed. And forever after she allowed him to give her the kiss of obeisance to prove his love and devotion to her always.”
She motioned to Lizabeth. “Go on, my dear. Open your modesty vest and allow your Novice to give you the kiss of obeisance.”
“Um…what?” Lizabeth was drawn out of the warm, sensuous moment as suddenly as though somebody had splashed a bucket of cold water in her face. “What did you say?” she repeated.
“Open your vest and allow your Novice to kiss your breasts and sex,” Lady Verlandah said, frowning.
“But…but I’m bare under here.” Lizabeth clutched at the long black vest uncertainly.
“Of course, you are—the reason for the obeisance gown is to allow your Novice access when he wants to show his devotion to you,” the Mistress Superior snapped. “I thought the two of you truly cared for each other—that we were to finally admit the first new Initiate to Knowledge that we’ve had here at the Tower in over five cycles.”
“We…we do care about each other,” Lizabeth said carefully. “But we…I…on my home world, we don’t do such things in…in public.”
“Then it’s a good thing we’re not on your home world,” Mistress Verlandah remarked icily. “We are at the Tower of the Higher Mind and if you wish to remain here and learn the law from Mistress Anarrah, you must complete the ritual of the oath. Tell me now, Initiate, what is your choice?”
Lizabeth couldn’t believe she was getting railroaded like this. Was she really
going to be forced to let Lone kiss her in such intimate areas in front of all these people or they would be kicked out of the Tower?
From the implacable look in Mistress Verlandah’s steely gray eyes, it seemed the answer was yes.
But I’m leaking! What if they all see it? What will they say? And what about Lone—does he want to do this?
From the smoldering, half-lidded look in his eyes, she thought he actually might. But it was still mortifying to just expect him to dive in and kiss her breasts and pussy as though he was her love-slave or something.
It was a horribly embarrassing situation but Lizabeth realized they were going to have to go through with it. As for the nectar leaking from the tips of her nipples, she just hoped it wouldn’t be too visible to anyone but Lone. Of course she would doubtless have to have a conversation about the nectar and her needing with him later but for now, she needed to concentrate on getting through this.
“All right,” she said at last when it appeared that the Mistress Superior was about to kick them out of the Tower. “All right, he…he can give me the kiss of greeting.”
“The kiss of obeisance, my dear,” Mistress Anarrah corrected gently. “The kiss of greeting involves only the hands and wrists. And then of course, there is the kiss of pleasure. But that is generally done in private unless it’s in a teaching situation, of course.”
Lizabeth didn’t know what she was talking about and she didn’t want to know. She felt numb to everything else around her as she pulled at the silver magnetic broach that held her long black vest together and spread the panels of black fabric to bare herself.
As the vest parted, she couldn’t help feeling like some kind of a flasher with Lone as her victim. But the reverent look on the big warrior’s face soon drove that idea out of her mind. He was still kneeling but now he came up on his knees and reached for her, eager desire filling his face.
“Mistress,” he murmured hoarsely. “Let me give you the kiss of obeisance. Let me show you how much I admire and adore you.”
Despite herself and the awkward situation she found herself in, Lizabeth couldn’t help but feel herself melting inside—just a little—at the hungry way he was looking at her. Either he really did want to do this with her or he was a superlative actor. And she tended to think it was the former rather than the latter.
“Lone,” she murmured, stepping more fully into his arms. Not even the shining droplets of nectar beading the tips of her nipples could make her stop. Her whole body ached and throbbed for him as the needing nearly overtook her.
“Mistress,” he murmured again and, leaning forward, he placed a hot, wet, open-mouthed kiss on her right nipple.
Lizabeth gave a little cry as she felt her aching, tingling peak bathed briefly in the heat of his mouth. God, it felt so good. She wished he would suck her now and ease the pressure in her breast. But she knew if he started sucking, the emptiness in her pussy would grow exponentially worse. Also, both breasts might start gushing at once which would be really hard to explain.
Lone seemed to know all this because after a long, gentle kiss, he finally moved on to the left nipple and treated it just as gently and reverently as the right. When he pulled back, Lizabeth saw him licking his lips and knew that he had tasted her nectar and understood that she was having a needing attack. There was worry in his pale gray eyes for her and he raised his eyebrows at her as if to ask, Are you all right?
Lizabeth nodded. She would be fine if they could just get this over with, she told herself. She would manage somehow, although she wasn’t certain how.
“Very good, my dears,” Mistress Anarrah murmured. “And now let him kiss you on the sex and the ceremony will be over.”
This was, if possible, even more embarrassing. But Lizabeth knew there was no getting out of it. Taking a deep breath, she widened her stance somewhat and then motioned for Lone.
“All right—come on, Novice.” She hoped that her voice didn’t shake too much.
“As my Lady wishes,” Lone murmured, his voice a deep, hungry growl. Leaning forward, he cupped her hips in his hands and pressed forward so that his mouth was on level with her neatly-trimmed pussy mound.
But instead of kissing her right away, he first rubbed his mouth and cheeks against her—almost like a cat marking its territory, Lizabeth thought. God, it felt awkward and good at the same time—the warm scratchiness of his cheeks and the softness of his lips…
“For the Goddess’s sake, get on with it,” Lady Verlandah interrupted. “What’s all this you’re doing to your Mistress? Just kiss her and have done with it.” She shook her head. “I can see the two of you really do need lessons in proper deportment.”
Lone ignored the Mistress Superior and looked up at Lizabeth instead.
“With your permission, Mistress,” he rumbled. “May I kiss your sweet pussy?”
“Yes, Lone…” His words seemed to set a fire inside her. “Yes,” she breathed. “Go…go ahead.”
Lone seemed to need no more urging. Leaning forward eagerly, he pressed his mouth to her pussy and this time Lizabeth felt him making the most of his time between her thighs as his hot breath caressed her skin and he kissed her passionately, as though it was her mouth he was kissing.
“Oh,” she whispered and somehow her hands found their way to his thick mahogany hair which felt so silky against her fingers. She felt the warm wetness as the tip of his tongue slipped briefly over her sensitive clit, making her moan and twitch her hips.
Lone seemed to like this—he nuzzled closer between her thighs and lapped at her again, making her gasp and jump as a new bolt of pleasure ran through her. The emptiness in her pussy was growing again but there was nothing she could do about it, nothing but try to endure until the kiss was over. And Lone seemed to take a long, long time before he finally pulled away.
“Gods, Mistress,” he groaned softly, looking up at her. “You taste so sweet.” His lips were shiny with her juices and Lizabeth realized that her nipples weren’t the only part of her that was leaking. Her pussy was wet with her honey—she seemed to be overflowing all over just because Lone had touched her…kissed her…
“Lone,” she whispered unsteadily, allowing her fingers to slide from his hair down to cup his warm, scratchy cheek in her palm. Their eyes met and held and somehow she couldn’t look away. “Oh, Lone,” she murmured again.
“Mistress,” he growled softly. “I am yours.” His eyes were filled with a hungry need that Lizabeth felt echoed in her own body. Suddenly she wanted him desperately—needed him.
Leaning down, she cupped his face in both hands and kissed him, tasting her own secret flavor on his sensuous lips. Lone deepened the kiss hungrily, yearning towards her though he remained on his knees, leaning in to taste and take her mouth with his own.
Shouldn’t be doing this! whispered a little voice in the back of Lizabeth’s head. He’s your assistant…he’s way too young for you! Remember what happed with Arturo!
But that had been so long ago—another lifetime. She didn’t want to think of the old pain now—of a past that had happened even before she’d met and married and subsequently divorced Bernard. All she wanted to think of was the sweetness of Lone’s mouth on hers, the hungriness of his kiss, the way his big hands had found their way to her hips and he was pulling her forward as she kissed him…
“Well, if I wasn’t sure of the love match before, this has made it abundantly obvious.” The Mistress Superior’s dry, acerbic tones cut into the sweet, sensual moment and Lizabeth realized what she was doing—kissing her assistant in front of a bunch of strangers.
She drew back, abruptly filled with shame. What was wrong with her? Why had she done that? She tried to tell herself it was because of the aching in her over-full breasts and the deep emptiness in her pussy—the effects of the needing. But somehow she couldn’t quite make herself believe those were the only reasons.
“Mistress?” Lone looked at her uncertainly, his gray eyes still hungry.
“Fi
nish it,” Mistress Verlandah snapped, speaking to Anarrah, who had been standing quietly with a small smile on her lovely face.
“Yes, of course, Mistress Superior,” she murmured. “And from that day forward, the First Mistress and the First Novice lived in harmony and built the Tower of the Higher Mind together. Still, in their honor, we Mistresses take Novices into our lives and hearts and beds. We train them and release them if they wish to go…or keep them always if they wish to stay. That is the way of the Tower.”
“Very good.” Mistress Verlandah nodded with grudging approval. “You always do an excellent job at the oath ceremonies, Anarrah.”
“Thank you. It’s been so long since we were able to have one.” Mistress Anarrah sighed happily. “Well, my dears,” she said to Lizabeth and Lone. “Let’s go and get the two of you settled in your chambers so you can relax a little before dinner, shall we?”
“Of…of course,” Lizabeth stuttered. Her breasts were aching fiercely. As she closed the black vest over them, her nipples throbbed in protest at the contact with the fabric. She needed to get this taken care of…needed to have Lone help her again. But how could she do that? How could she continue what they had started at the oath ceremony? It wasn’t right and she knew it.
Avoiding Lone’s eyes, she followed Mistress Anarrah as they left the huge purple throne-room chamber.
Ten
Lone paced outside the door of the fresher as he waited for Lizabeth to come out. She had fled inside and locked herself in the minute Mistress Anarrah had let them into their luxurious living quarters and he hadn’t heard a peep out of her since. He’d been waiting more than an hour now and still she showed no sign of coming out.
She’s in need—I know she is! I could taste her nectar—see it leaking from her nipples, he thought. Her breasts are so full they have to be aching so why isn’t she asking me to help her?
He knew she wanted his help—he could see it in her eyes. And the way that she kissed him during the oath ceremony—he had felt a hunger in that kiss that matched his own. So why had she locked herself in the fresher? And why wasn’t she coming out? Was she trying to deal with the problem herself? There was no possible way she could. So then what in the Seven Hells was going on?
Instructing the Novice Page 10