Wild Kingdom

by Deanna Ashford

  Leon had always been proud of the length and girth of his erect penis, but the size of Yeo’s black, shining cock put it to shame. It stood out from Yeo’s muscular groin, oiled and stiffly erect. The skin on the shaft was coal black, but it grew redder towards the tip and Leon couldn’t tear his gaze from the sight, the organ was so huge. He watched, fascinated as Yeo twisted and turned his finger inside Niska, while reverently wanking his cock with the other hand until the skin on the polished rod looked taut and ready to burst.

  Hungrily Leon reached for his own penis, rubbing the aching shaft. Niska smiled, her pale eyes glittering as she watched him pumping. ‘Poor Leon,’ she taunted. ‘Do you want to join us? Yeo’s cock is magnificent, isn’t it? Think what it would feel like inside you.’

  ‘No!’ he gasped, slowing his pace as he felt his balls start to tighten. He had no wish to come yet; he needed to spill his seed inside Niska.

  ‘Haven’t you ever wondered what it would feel like to be penetrated by a man?’ She wriggled her bottom as Yeo pulled out his finger and leaned forwards to lick and kiss her buttocks.

  ‘The thought is obscene,’ Leon mumbled as the man beneath Niska began to jerk his hips in wild rapid movements.

  Niska groaned with pleasure, her belly trembling at the strength of the powerful thrusts. ‘He’s huge, it feels so good,’ she purred, never taking her eyes off Leon.

  Jealousy gnawed at his innards, as a strange excitement crawled over his skin. Leon cupped his balls, massaging them gently, while his hand set to work again on his aching shaft. He slid his fingers up and down the burgeoning length, hating Osa and hating Niska. He stared resentfully at Niska, wanting to be the one lying there with her pale flesh embracing his hungry cock.

  ‘Stop moving,’ Niska told Osa, putting a hand on his chest. ‘Yeo likes to fuck men,’ she told Leon as she ground her open quim against Osa’s flat belly. Yeo meanwhile was pressing his tongue teasingly against Niska’s arsehole and it looked extraordinarily pink in contrast to the darkness of his skin. ‘When Yeo was Sarin’s body slave his master always promised him that one day he could fuck Tarn.’ She gave a soft laugh. ‘Of course he never let Yeo do it. Sarin was too possessive; he kept that delicious pleasure all to himself.’

  ‘You lie,’ Leon groaned as he stopped pumping his cock, squeezing the tip between his finger and thumb to prevent himself exploding.

  ‘Has Tarn never spoken of the hours he was forced to spend in Sarin’s pleasure vault, being subjected to every erotic indignity his master could think of?’ She looked back at Yeo. ‘Push your tongue deeper, I want to feel it wriggling inside me.’ Yeo obeyed, pushing the tip of his tongue deep into her, until she gave a soft sigh. ‘That feels delicious.’

  ‘Tarn is no pervert,’ Leon spat. ‘He is a man. He beds women, not men,’ he added, squeezing his throbbing balls harder, wanting the discomfort to blot out Niska’s words. ‘He was a prisoner in Sarin’s dungeons not a pleasure slave,’ he said almost choking on his words.

  Leon had heard of men who liked fucking other men, but he’d never known such a creature – apart from Yeo of course. He looked derisively at Yeo, whose tongue was still working on Niska’s arse. Even his sex-crazed soldiers would have balked at penetrating a man, and Tarn would never have endured such an indignity, Leon told himself.

  ‘You deceive yourself, Leon.’ Niska eyed him with amusement as he crawled towards her. ‘You should ask Tarn.’

  ‘I would never presume,’ he growled, leaning across the prone Nubian to kiss Niska. Spurred on by the thought of Osa’s cock inside her, he thrust his tongue deep into her mouth. His engorged cock pressed against Osa’s hip as Niska grabbed hold of his head, kissing him harder.

  ‘Fuck me now, Leon.’ She pulled her lips from his. ‘In my tight little nether hole.’

  The thought of penetrating her so crudely, while Osa’s cock was still lodged in her pussy, was impossible to resist. Leon pushed Yeo aside, and the Nubian backed away and crouched on his haunches, his engorged penis swaying gently.

  ‘I know that you’ve always wanted to do this,’ Niska teased with a husky laugh. ‘But you’ve never dared to ask.’

  A lustful heat filled his loins and his knees trembled as he kneeled behind Niska, wishing he knew what it would feel like to be impaled on two cocks at the same time. Wild excitement coursed through his veins as he went to grab hold of her buttock cheeks and pull them apart. Before Leon could press his cock to the tight little hole, a hand shot around his waist and held him motionless as Yeo’s fingers, dripping with fragrant oil, reverently greased his shaft from root to tip. The seductive movements of Yeo’s hands were arousing and despite his instinctive disgust Leon found the sensations highly pleasurable.

  ‘Do it!’ Niska commanded, lifting her hips back towards Leon, and allowing Osa’s huge, shiny penis to slide half out of her cunt.

  Leon’s heart raced, pumping so hard it felt as if it might explode as he eased his way inside the rosy ring of muscle. His cock slid smoothly into the tight opening, burrowing deep into the narrow channel. The muscles were so tight and tautly contracted that it was far better than bedding the most reluctant virgin.

  With a soft groan, Leon forced his cock deeper and the pressure became so intense that he had to breathe deeply and try to hold back – fearing he would come too quickly. By now Niska was making a faint keening whimper, and Leon was beyond caring if it was from pain or pleasure as he jammed his pelvis hard against her buttock cheeks.

  He grabbed hold of her hips, thrusting her down hard on Osa’s cock and the penetration was so complete that Niska gave a loud, wailing scream. Leon could feel the hardness of Osa’s cock-shaft pressing against his penis. Gently he began to thrust, timing his movements to match Osa’s, so that they fucked Niska in a smooth mutual rhythm.

  Leon was so caught up in his own lustful excitement, that he barely felt Yeo’s hands on his hips, but he felt the fierce agony as the Nubians’ cock was suddenly thrust deep into his anus. Yeo’s pungent-smelling body pressed hard against Leon’s buttocks, as he was pierced to the hilt by the massive organ. The painful pleasure was exquisitely exciting and decadent beyond belief.

  Trapped by bodies both front and rear, Leon was forced to endure the cock thrusting back and forth in his vitals, filling him with a sweet dark pleasure he’d never tasted before. The four of them moved in perfect unison, one mass of rutting humanity as Leon endured the hedonistic experience of both penetrating and being penetrated at the same time. A red mist of blood grew behind his eyes as the powerful sensations grew and expanded, thrusting Leon into the dark side of bliss and beyond.

  Chapter Seven

  TARN’S KEEN BLUE eyes swept the hills and valleys ahead, looking for the slightest sign of movement. A cold grey mist hid the tops of the hills, filling the air with a chill dampness, which deposited sparkling droplets of dew on his heavy velvet cloak.

  Tarn’s horse was near exhaustion, as were the mounts of his men. He had made them travel at an unrelenting pace since leaving Ruberoc – his overwhelming fear for Riarma’s safety driving him onwards. They had easily picked up the baroness’s trail in the forest north of the castle of Dane, and judging by the many tracks, she was accompanied by a large body of men.

  As time passed there had been more terrible signs of her recent presence. They’d found stiff corpses of slaughtered soldiers, their eyes pecked out by crows and their bodies half-consumed by scavengers. They were all Leon’s men and no attempt had been made to hide their corpses. Tarn was convinced they had all been murdered. For all he knew Leon and every one of his soldiers might be dead by now, and he couldn’t even allow himself to consider his beloved’s fate.

  ‘We’ll have to stop soon, sire, and allow the horses to rest,’ Tarn’s aide cautiously pointed out. Jentius was a promising young captain and a friend of Leon’s. That was why Tarn had chosen Jentius to accompany him.

  ‘I know.’ Tarn narrowed his eyes, peering into a valley half shrouded in mist, still u
nsure how close they were to catching up with the baroness. Tarn and his men were travelling much faster, but she had over a week’s head start.

  ‘Is that smoke?’ Jentius asked, pointing towards the far end of the misty valley.

  ‘It could be.’ Tarn frowned. During the night they had traversed some rocky ground, and the tracks had been barely visible even to the keenest eyes. Horsemen coming from another direction had passed this way as well and Tarn wasn’t even certain that they were following the right tracks any more. But he’d travel to the ends of the earth to find Rianna. ‘If it is smoke, it’s coming from only one fire.’

  This part of Kabra was sparsely populated, mainly because of the attacks by bandits who sheltered in the mountains to the north. Most of the smaller settlements in this area had been raided and burned to the ground. The survivors had fled to the few large walled towns where they were better protected.

  ‘Should we take a look?’ Jentius asked.

  ‘Yes, come.’ Tarn spurred his horse forwards, down the damp, grass-covered slope, beckoning his men to follow him.

  As they moved closer they saw that the thin pillar of smoke came from the fire of a small group of men camped in the shelter of a thicket of trees. Judging by the uniforms they were Percheron soldiers. Tarn wondered if they had failed to receive the order to retreat. He glanced back at Jentius. ‘I’ll go in first, the men are to follow me. Tell them to remain alert and ready to defend themselves, but they are not to draw their weapons. I wish to show the soldiers that we mean no harm, and I’ve no desire to fight them unless we are forced to.’

  ‘Why would they still be here, this far north?’ Jentius asked.

  ‘I don’t know, unless . . .’ Tarn recalled the document of safe passage he had issued to a small troop at Lesand’s request. Could it be them, he asked himself, as they approached the camp.

  There were a couple of small tents, a group of hobbled horses and about a dozen men. Most were taken by surprise at the appearance of so many Kabran soldiers. A number reached for their weapons. One, who’d been stirring something over the fire, dropped his ladle in surprise and shouted out a warning, while two soldiers holding long spears moved to bar Tarn’s way.

  ‘Who’s in charge?’ Tarn’s icy gaze surveyed the camp, while he half-slid his sword from its gilded scabbard.

  The two soldiers stepped threateningly towards Tarn, but suddenly a voice shouted, ‘Hold there.’ A lieutenant strode forwards and waved back the men. ‘Sir, we have a letter of safe passage . . .’ he faltered as he stared at Tarn, recognition dawning in his eyes. ‘I am in charge of these men, your highness,’ he stuttered.

  ‘No, I am.’ The cold familiarity of Sarin’s voice hit Tarn like a hard blow to the stomach.

  ‘You?’ Tarn could not hide his amazement.

  ‘A surprising change of circumstance is it not?’ Sarin commented, his dark hawk-like features radiating supreme self-assurance. ‘The last time –’ Sarin stepped closer to Tarn, waving Lieutenant Faros and his men back. Lowering his voice so that only Tarn could hear he continued, ‘– the last time we were together you were my slave, confined in a cell, bound and helpless, forced to submit to my every whim. I recall that I enjoyed taking my pleasure . . .’

  ‘Why dwell on the past?’ Tarn harshly interrupted, unable to think of the painful intimacy of their last encounter. He straightened in his saddle, staring coldly down at Sarin, looking every inch the monarch he now was. ‘It bears no relation to the present. I am the King of Kabra while you are merely an escaped prisoner seeking refuge in my kingdom.’

  Sarin smiled sarcastically. ‘The past is not so easy to forget, King Tarn.’ He bowed, making the deferential gesture seem overexaggerated and condescending. ‘However much we like to think it does not, the past bears every relation to what is happening now.’ He grinned, his teeth looking startlingly white against his dark beard. The facial hair made Sarin look even more rakishly handsome but doubly threatening. ‘I may only be an escaped prisoner in your eyes, but I’ll soon regain my rightful position as monarch of Percheron.’

  ‘If I care to let you,’ Tarn coolly pointed out, swinging his leg over his horse and dismounting. ‘Why should I allow you to return to Percheron? You are my enemy, why should I not imprison you? I have made peace with the new leader of Percheron, Chancellor Lesand. If I allowed you to return to your kingdom, and you regained your throne, you might not stand by the treaty.’

  ‘We can reach an agreement that satisfies us both, Sarin said confidently. ‘Kabra is no longer of interest to me. If I regain control of Percheron and assume my rightful place on the throne again, I’ll be content.’ He took a few swaggering steps back. ‘As you see, I am travelling under the protection of Lieutenant Faros and his men. You’ve not forgotten the letter of safe passage you gave him?’

  ‘No, I’ve not forgotten.’ Tarn glared at Sarin. ‘However much I may loathe to do so, I’ll stand by the document and allow it to extend to you as well,’ he added in a harsh tone.

  ‘Still the noble barbarian?’ Sarin taunted. ‘Even though your magnanimity chokes your throat.’ He glanced over at Tarn’s men. ‘We are outnumbered. You could easily overpower my small troop and take me captive.’

  ‘Only you would carry out such an ignoble act.’ Tarn’s lips twisted into a sarcastic smile. ‘The King of Kabra stands by his word.’

  ‘Then let us offer you our simple hospitality.’ Sarin pointed towards the campfire. ‘Warm yourself for a while. Have a cup of spiced wine.’

  Tarn regally inclined his head. His men would appreciate a few moments rest. It was possible that Sarin’s soldiers may have seen the baroness and her men pass by and the information would give them some idea of how far behind her they were. Tarn followed Sarin over to the fire. Even after all this time he still found it difficult to face this man. Memories of the sexual intimacies they’d shared plagued his thoughts. He recalled the cruel ways Sarin had used to subjugate and humiliate him, and the thoughts aroused feelings and emotions he had tried so hard to suppress.

  ‘I’m surprised you managed to escape from Freygard,’ Tarn commented as he accepted a cup of spiced wine from one of the soldiers.

  ‘I expect you are,’ Sarin agreed with a cutting smile. ‘No doubt you thought I was out of your way forever. Zene helped me to escape Danara’s clutches,’ he said in a surprisingly calm voice as he pointed to one of the small tents. An attractive young woman stood there staring thoughtfully at the two of them.

  Tarn glanced at her for a moment, then grinned as he recognised Zene. ‘I remember her. She and I . . .’ he paused. ‘It is best forgotten.’

  Sarin looked questioningly at Zene, but she looked calmly back at him as if Tarn’s words meant nothing to her. ‘If it were not for Zene, I would never have got out of Freygard alive.’

  Tarn gulped down the wine, feeling the warmth hit his parched throat. ‘So now you plan to return to Percheron?’

  ‘No.’ Sarin shook his head. ‘Lieutenant Faros has orders to hunt down a fugitive. I will accompany him, recover what is mine, then return to Percheron.’

  ‘Ah, yes.’ Tarn realised he had no idea of the fugitive’s identity. He wondered if the person they sought could be the baroness. Surely that would be too much of a coincidence? ‘Tell me more about this fugitive.’

  ‘Her name is Baroness Crissana, she stole jewels from the royal treasury.’ Sarin grinned wryly. ‘You may know her better, of course, as my former wife, Niska.’

  ‘Niska!’ Tarn gasped. His surprise at seeing Sarin was nothing to the fear that gripped his heart when he heard Niska’s name. ‘Niska has Rianna?’

  ‘What has Rianna to do with this?’ Sarin asked.

  ‘It appears that my betrothed is in the company of your fugitive,’ Tarn said, his voice tight with concern. He was unable to conceive how Rianna could ever have agreed to travel with Niska.

  ‘My wife, you mean,’ Sarin reminded him. ‘Rianna and I are still wed,’ he added cuttingly. ‘You shou
ld not forget that.’

  ‘I’ve no intention of discussing such matters now,’ Tarn cut him off.

  ‘How did Rianna come to be travelling with Niska?’ Sarin appeared as confused as Tarn was.

  ‘I wish I knew the truth of it,’ Tarn replied, finding it very difficult to accept that he was standing here talking to Sarin as if they were old acquaintances, not mortal enemies. ‘It is not easy to comprehend. Nevertheless, I fear that Rianna is in great danger. I need to reach Niska even more urgently than you do.’

  ‘Niska must have her reasons for taking Rianna with her,’ Sarin said, showing no concern for his former bride. ‘If Niska has not killed her already, then she is safe for the present. I know Niska well enough to deduce that she must have some use for Rianna – a use you have yet to ascertain.’

  ‘I care not for Niska’s reasons,’ Tarn said agitatedly. ‘I just have to rescue Rianna.’ He turned to look for Jentius, who was deep in conversation with Faros. ‘We must leave now, Jentius.’

  ‘I’m more than certain Niska is headed for Vestfold,’ Sarin told him. ‘She often used to speak fondly of her half-brother, Ragnor. They were close when they were young.’

  ‘Vestfold?’ Tarn repeated. ‘May the gods protect Rianna.’

  ‘May the gods protect us all,’ Sarin added as Tarn swung round, intending to depart. ‘Wait, Tarn.’

  Tarn flinched as Sarin put a hand on his arm. ‘Why should I wait?’

  ‘Let us put our enmities aside,’ Sarin suggested. ‘We both seek Niska, so it makes sense for us to do so together.’

  ‘No,’ Tarn replied, shaking his head. ‘That is impossible.’

  ‘Niska has a large band of mercenaries in her employ. They will be difficult enough to contend with. If we are forced, as I fear, to pursue her into Vestfold we will be in even greater danger. We will need a goodly force even to survive. The more men we have, the better our chances.’

  ‘It is impossible for us to work together,’ Tarn replied. ‘We are enemies, Sarin. Too much has occurred for us to ever be anything but that!’