by Willa Okati
Candy Kiss: Freedom’s Fire
Willa Okati
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2007 Willa Okati
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ISBN: 978-1-59596-668-1
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Editor: Crystal Esau
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
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Freedom’s Fire
Silken lived life by the rules of his profession, even if he was, as Nanashi insisted, a “free man” now. He always remained on the bottom when they fucked, but oh, by the gods and goddesses and Lalasa herself, no one could have been in a better position.
Making love was a wonderful celebration of Lalasa, Goddess of the Heart. Today was Her holy day, one which all lovers celebrated, and Silken was wholly glad to be one of those worshipping Her with such pleasure.
Lying beneath Nanashi, his own Nightwalker, Silken was nearly bent in half. His knees almost touched his ears, his legs held hard in position by hands much stronger than an ordinary human’s. Nanashi’s grip was tight enough to hurt, but the little zing of pain just made this ever more memorable.
“My Silken,” Nanashi panted. Nightwalkers did not need to breathe, but they often forgot in the heat of the moment. Silken loved hearing Nanashi lose control and fall into the human habits of gasping, groaning, moaning and hissing with pleasure. “Tight. Gods, always so tight. How do you…”
Silken hid his grin and arched up as Nanashi thrust deeper in, impaling himself on Nanashi’s cock and then bearing down to squeeze him hard. He could feel the man’s prick inside him like a rod made of the coolest ivory, some work of art that a very particular collector would prize.
Nanashi liked dirty talk, so Silken could, with relief, let himself babble as well. “Harder. Deeper. Please.”
“Always so hungry for it,” Nanashi grunted. He pressed Silken’s legs further open and back. “Your cock… such a treasure.”
“Touch me,” Silken begged. “Wrap your hand around my rod and squeeze. I burn for your touch.”
“What was that?” Nanashi teased, stopping with his cock half-buried in Silken’s ass. “I didn’t hear.”
Silken beat with both hands at the rich bed coverings they lay on. “Fuck me!” he exclaimed, full of frustration at an orgasm that built and built but seemed to be forever denied. “Use your hands on my dick and bring me off. Hard. Now. Please.”
Nanashi threw his head back and laughed. “All you had to do was ask.” His cool white fingers wrapped around Silken’s cock and began to work it, a good tight grip sliding up and down, slippery from the pre-come leaking out of the tip. Silken arched high and tight, letting out a long, heartfelt wail of appreciation.
“Yes,” Nanashi groaned gutturally, speeding up his thrusts. “Gods, yes. I cannot get enough of you, Silken.”
“Quiet,” Silken snapped, throwing courtesy to the wind. “Fuck me. Fuck me hard.”
Nanashi tossed his head to get strands of falling hair out of his eyes, then tilted Silken further back. He moved with hand and prick, never letting go of Silken’s cock, working it toward a thunderous climax.
Silken let himself be carried away on the sizzling feel of the sexual excitement thundering through him. Nanashi’s hand was an instrument of the gods, squeezing him with just the right amount of pressure, just as quickly as Silken needed, not faltering once.
If Nanashi was a prime example, Nightwalkers were amazing in bed. Silken had learned this, much to his pleasure, and every time Nanashi plundered him was a memory to be cherished. That was, when he wasn’t too wracked with pleasure to think straight.
The orgasm he’d been waiting on surged through his balls. “Nanashi,” he warned, unable to say anything else except, “now --”
Nanashi bent to nip at Silken’s leg with his sharp, sharp fangs. “Now,” he ordered.
The pain and the pleasure blurred together and sent Silken flying over the edge. He could feel his body spasm as if he’d been struck by lightning, jerking in powerful contractions that doubled when Nanashi nailed forward hard and fast and then let out a strangled groan. Cool seed splashed into Silken, deep inside his channel.
They lay poised for a long moment, and then collapsed.
“Gods, that was good,” Nanashi murmured as Silken slowly straightened out his aching legs. “Come and lie by me. I am not ready for sleep yet, and I do not want to let you go. Stay by my side.”
Silken hesitated. “The builders… they will be expecting to report in on their progress.”
“Builders, bah.” Nanashi waved his hand. “They can drink tea and wait for us. I am not through with you yet, my once-upon-a-time Courtesan. And since it is my money being spent on the project, I make the final decisions.”
Silken couldn’t help smiling. “Then I will gladly stay with you, my Lord.”
“Nanashi,” he was reminded.
“Nanashi,” Silken said, lying his head on his Nightwalker’s chest. “Thank you.”
Nanashi rumbled contentedly.
They lay still for a long few moments. Silken was drifting toward sleep, a light nap, when Nanashi spoke again and banished all thoughts of drowsiness from his mind.
“Teach me how to be a Courtesan.”
The question took Silken by such surprise that he forgot himself and jerked up to stare at Nanashi. “What?”
Nanashi chuckled. He pushed Silken’s head back down against his chest and started playing with Silken’s hair, running strand after strand through his fingers. “The thought has just come to me. I have tried for so long and so hard to understand you. You, however, are like a silverfish. You slip through my fingers just when I think I have you safely caught.”
“I -- I do not mean to displease --”
“Ah, and there again you swim away from me. What passes between us is not about pleasing or displeasing. I want you as a man, not as a crawling slave.” Nanashi’s hand slowed down and then stopped. He twined one lock around a single finger. “It occurs to me that to understand you, I must be you, at least for a little while.”
Silken thought, but did not say aloud, that Nanashi had either lost control of his senses or had secretly been smoking the leaves of the brambleroot bush. He’d dealt with users of the opiate before, and knew with an uncomfortable awareness that they could be dangerous. Mama Luck had always been careful, but occasionally one of the deranged would slip through.
Illia, of course, didn’t care what kind of lunatic she took on as a customer so long as they had the coin to pay for a whore’s service.
Silken would not have thought that Nanashi was subject to any such afflictions. However, ever since purchasing Silken’s freedom, Nanashi had been a puzzle. Even now, when they were lying together in a bed soaked by their sweat and come, the man was thinking, thinking, always thinking, and coming up with the most confusing riddles.
On the off chance that Nanashi was playing the fool, Silken carefully humored hi
m. “It would be impossible to teach you how to be a Courtesan, my Lord.”
Nanashi lightly cuffed Silken on the crown of his head. “I think not. And honestly,” he said, voice rippling with amusement, “after all that we have shared, not to mention what I have done with you this very night, you must call me by my name. Say it. I know you can. ‘Nanashi’.”
“Nanashi,” Silken replied obediently. He watched his breath tickle across the fine hairs on Nanashi’s stomach. After all the time they’d spent together, it still struck him as odd that there was no rising or falling of the man’s chest and no heartbeat beneath his ribs.
But then again, he was a Nightwalker, and no longer an ordinary man.
“Are Nightwalkers made or born?” Silken asked, surprising himself. He found it hard to be blunt with Nanashi unless they were discussing sex, all his years of training keeping his tongue tied, but apparently this was a night for strange turns of events.
“Both.” Nanashi’s finger uncurled from Silken’s hair. “And I was serious, you realize. Teach me how to be a Courtesan.”
Silken bit his lip. He was still of the belief that Nanashi suffered from some sort of brain fever, perhaps brought on by overexertion in their bed, but the wisest course of action was to play along with this particular game. “I could try, my -- Nanashi.”
“Good!” Nanashi sounded pleased. He sat up, dislodging Silken. Silken obediently sat as well. A Courtesan always followed their client’s lead, and he could not stop himself from following the rules even now that he was, so to speak, free. “Then begin right away. It is Lalasa’s Night, the Night of Lovers, an auspicious time for bed sport. What would a Courtesan do in a situation like this? I have just pleased my client. Have I not?”
Silken started to blush. “No, my Lord.”
“Nanashi.”
“Nanashi,” Silken tried again. This was acutely embarrassing, but he bravely pushed on. “I fear that you would not have pleased a client.”
“Interesting.” Nanashi crossed his legs beneath him, gracefully but artlessly, and rested his elbow on one knee. He leaned forward, his chiseled face alight with curiosity. “Tell me what I have done wrong, then.”
“You… took control.”
“And this is wrong?” Nanashi seemed genuinely puzzled. “I suppose most would prefer to top, but would you not occasionally have a client who preferred to be on the bottom?”
“That did happen from time to time, but it was a rarity. Most citizens wealthy enough to afford a Courtesan were strong and independent, and preferred to remain dominant even in bed. Whether male or female, it was my job to bow for them.” Silken felt torn. He knew that Nanashi didn’t like reminders of Silken’s time as a slave, but he had asked -- hadn’t he?
A lifetime of training could not be overcome in a day, or even in weeks or months.
Still, Silken tried to do his best. “I was there to please them. They preferred to use me instead of being used themselves. Whether I used lips or fingers or cock, they were always the ones driving the horses.”
Nanashi snorted. “And you were their horse. Nothing but a good ride.”
That pricked Silken’s pride. “I was the best,” he retorted, stung. “Mama Luck prized me above all her other Courtesans.”
“Which is one of many reasons why I desired you more than any. But not as a mindless sex animal. I wanted to know you as a man, which is why I pursued you and bought your contract and bound you to me as a free man in a lifelong commitment. And you went gladly, or so I thought.” Nanashi frowned. “Or is that it, Silken? Were you willing, or merely acting as a good Courtesan? No matter what I try to teach you, do you still think of yourself as a slave?”
“You said you wished to learn how to be a Courtesan, my -- Nanashi?” Silken said quickly, trying to change the subject. The art of deflecting awkward questions was one he had learned to use with great effect.
He had his doubts about how well it would work with Nanashi.
He was right. “Don’t play bait-and-catch with me, Silken,” Nanashi ordered. He reached out with his free hand to cup Silken’s chin and raise his head so that they were looking at one another, eye to eye. He sighed. “Sometimes I think I have bought myself a lifetime of trouble with you, Silken. I have broken your chains, but still you remain a slave.”
“And yet you wish to learn how to become a slave?” Silken found himself growing frazzled, Nanashi’s questions keeping him off balance. His temper, somewhat more easily frayed these days, was beginning to throw off sparks of irritation. “Or, as you put it, a Courtesan? Apparently they mean much the same thing to you.”
“I want to know where all your thoughts and rationales come from.” Nanashi was deadly serious. “I want to know whether or not you’re with me as a man when we are in this bed, or merely playing out the role you have been performing in all your adult life.”
This embarrassed Silken, still, but he managed to say what was in his heart and had always been there: “I love you, Nanashi. You are my life. My sun, my moon, my sky full of stars. I would have done anything for someone who bought out Illia’s contract, true. But to tie myself to a Nightwalker? This is more than just a business arrangement. This took courage and adoration and dedication.”
“So I am more than just a customer to you?”
Silken nodded. “You are my world. I live to please you.”
“Ach!” Nanashi unfurled his legs and slid off the bed. He stood tall on his two long feet, hands on his trim hips, and glared down at Silken. “You should not live to please me. You should live to please yourself.”
“Pleasing you is pleasing myself,” Silken tried to explain. He automatically took hold of the rich red-and-gold coverings on their bed and pulled them up over his waist, concealing his lap. “It makes me happy to serve you. This is my choice as a free man.”
Nanashi stared at him with a dark frown for a long moment, then sighed. “I do not suppose that we will ever completely sort out this tangle,” he admitted. “But then again, I feel certain that being the partner of a Nightwalker is something you yourself struggle with.”
Silken felt safe in nodding. Keeping nocturnal hours was only part of the changes he’d gone through. He’d learned how to find the best butchers and how much a fair price was for blood. Nanashi could consume animal by-products, and preferred them over a kill or even a willing donor, which made him unusual among the common sort -- but in high style for a Nightwalker of elevated caste.
Silken had also grown accustomed to finding servants and builders who were willing to work after the cover of night, so that their own home and the Courtesan House they were building could progress with Nanashi able to keep an eye on things.
It wasn’t an easy life that he spent with the Nightwalker. But he hadn’t lied -- Nanashi meant everything to him. From the long waves of his midnight black hair to his snapping dark eyes to his full mouth and long, strong body, Nanashi was everything Silken might ever have wanted in a man.
He was patient, too. And gentle. For the most part.
He had never struck Silken, no matter what the provocation.
He had freed Silken.
So, for the sake of his partner, Silken decided he could go along with the game Nanashi had in mind. “Are you serious, my -- Nanashi?” he asked, folding his hands in his lap. “You truly wish to learn how a Courtesan would act in this position?”
“Why not? Anything that gets me an insight in there --” Nanashi reached out and poked Silken’s head “-- is worth my while. And I have a sense that this could be a fine entertainment. Let us begin.”
“Immediately, my Lord?”
“Use my name,” Nanashi scolded. “If I were a Courtesan and you were a client, you would hardly call me ‘Lord.’ I know this much. If it makes you feel better, consider this an order. For the next hour, you are my superior and I am a low-caste whore.”
Silken wanted to laugh. Nanashi didn’t hold back the impulse, grinning as if he were a child with a new toy. “Come
on,” the Nightwalker encouraged. “Indulge me.”
“Very well.” Silken composed himself in thought. He was acutely aware of semen drying on his chest, starting to itch. His cock had come on it as well from where Nanashi drove him over the edge. His ass felt sticky, covered as it was with Nanashi’s favorite cherry-scented lubricant.
Silken cleared his throat. “As a Courtesan, you would not have tackled me after I asked an innocent question about what sort of tea you would like for the evening ceremony.”
“Noted.” Nanashi’s eyes twinkled. “It was great fun, though. But I take your point. A Courtesan is, I suppose, discreet in offering themselves?”
“Subtly but effectively, yes.” Silken got up. He was comfortable in his nakedness as he moved to stand next to Nanashi. “You would have entered this room and seen me sitting… perhaps there.” He pointed to a comfortable armchair with the same rich red-and-gold upholstering as their bedding. “I would have been waiting in the best possible place to see if the Courtesan I had purchased was worth my money and my time.”
Nanashi nodded. “What are you waiting for, then?” he asked, giving Silken a small push. “Go and sit down. I’ll exit and re-enter. Judge me as you would one of your trainees. Correct me where I am wrong.” His smile grew sly. “I might find it more than a little enjoyable to be reprimanded.”
Silken blinked. This was a new fact about Nanashi, something else to be added to the wild tangle that comprised his thoughts about the Nightwalker. “As you wish,” he said slowly. “Leave the room. I will sit and wait for you.”
It felt distinctly odd to be making his way to the overstuffed chair, one that he’d rarely ever dared to sit on, and only then at Nanashi’s insistence -- sometimes when he wanted a show. He had said that he liked seeing the decadence of a man bringing himself off when surrounded by such luxury.
This new game was troubling, but at the same time strangely intriguing.
Nanashi observed the courtesy of a soft knock on the wall outside the curtain of hanging rice beads. Silken took a deep breath, shook his head, and put his best foot forward. “Enter, Courtesan.”