Behind her, Tau grunted and his grip on her hips hardened. His pace grew erratic, and the throbbing in her ass increased. She thrust back against him, arching her back slightly.
Tau grunted again, and Kiera cooed as she felt his hot cum spurting into her ass, filling her. She pulled his hand to her tit, moving gently along Pol’s length, sending further sensations along Tau’s cock as her ass tightened around him in response, squeezing more of his cum into her.
When he was done, Tau slipped out of her and fell to the ground at the base of the bed roll.
Kiera turned her attentions back to Pol below her, or as best she could with Tau’s cum inside her. She was still bouncing on Pol’s cock, his hips were still moving, but there was a pained expression on his face.
“Are you close, Pol?” she asked.
“So close,” he stammered.
Kiera leaned down to him, her breath hot in his ear.
“I want you to come in my mouth, Pol,” she said. “I want to taste you.”
“Oh, by Vash’s song, Kiera,” he said. “Hurry.”
Kiera bounded off his cock, falling across his waist, her breasts tucked against his thigh. Her hand grabbed his length, feeling it pulse in her hand, as she fed it greedily into her mouth, sucking hard against the head.
Pol hadn’t been joking when he’d said he was close. His hands gripped her fresh cut crest as best as they were able, his hips rose, his cock pushed into her mouth as far as she would allow. The pulsing throb reached its apex, hot, salty cum flooding across her tongue, spurt after spurt filling her mouth. Both Kiera and Pol moaned, her hand stroking the length not enveloped by her lips, squeezing out yet more of his seed.
Pol’s hands went slack, and Kiera pulled away, swallowing his load. A trail of his cum ran down his cock, and her tongue ran up his length, cleaning it off him before she stood up and started to walk away.
“Where are you going?” asked Tau, though the question could have been directed to her crotch, judging by his gaze. Kiera’s body was shiny with sweat and oil, and some of his cum was leaking down her thigh.
“Find some water,” she said, disappearing into the underbrush, leaving Tau and Pol alone around the campfire.
* * * * *
“Ahhhh!”
Princess Fione struggled to comport herself as the tip of a tongue flicked along her nipple. Uli was a talented woman, full of tender yet hungry kisses, with a roving tongue that explored in depth whatever territory it was tasked with mapping.
Behind the desk in the princess’ antechamber for her throne room, Olene sat watching impassively, her dark nipples erect and her nude body flushed, though whether her arousal came from the naked beauty before her, the thrall suckling on her tit, or simply the princess’ discomfort, one could only guess. Fione thought the latter. She’d had a conference with the other chiefs earlier in the day, and her waist-length hair, usually a long tail, had been waxed and folded into an impressive crest that ran from her forehead to the back of her neck.
“Lower, Uli,” the chieftain commanded.
Fione stared down between her own breasts, watching as the little thrall ran her tongue across the pale skin of her chest, toward the alcove of her navel, then across the fine strands of her pale blonde pubic hair. Uli sucked one outer lip of Fione’s pussy inside her mouth, already wet with the princess’ desire from her earlier attention, causing Fione to gasp and struggle against her bonds, the wrists tied above her head to the top of the high backed chair flexing, trying to loosen the confinement of the leather straps, her legs trying to kick off the ties at her ankles.
Olene smirked at the blonde woman’s struggles.
Uli’s lips switched to Fione’s other labium, drawing out another groan as Fione’s pleasure built. The thrall’s mouth released her, and Uli’s tongue danced along Fione’s cunt, tracing the wet folds in ever longer strokes upward, reaching towards the locus of Fione’s pleasure, peeking out from below its hood. Finally, the very tip of Uli’s tongue touched her clit. Fione gasped, a long intake of air as her pleasure grew, her body flushing, her lungs filling with air, her—
“Uli, stop,” Olene commanded.
Uli stood, retreating to her mistress’s side, where she stood with her hands at her sides, staring at the floor. Fione thrashed against her bonds, the chair rocking in response.
“Vash damn you! Kili take your eyes!”
This had been the torture to which she had been submitted. The terms of her surrendering her city to the invaders had spared her or her people from physical harm. But Olene had hardly forgotten the show in the throne room, and now she’d taken her revenge. Every day Uli was set upon Fione’s body, the thrall demonstrating her endless talent upon the princess, driving her wild until the last possible moment, when she was commanded to renege. At night, she was joined in her bedchamber by three Dragon Clan warriors, who would restrain her if she attempted to finish alone what Uli had started. Sometimes, if Olene was feeling particularly malicious, two thralls, generally young Joian nobles selected for their beauty and known by Fione (some even being drawn from her former paramours) would be summoned and encouraged to fuck each other to interrupt her sleep. Once she had awoken to find two of them coupling over her, the former Baronet Kalgreave’s long cock slipping into Lady Kalgreave’s snatch as he took her from behind, just inches from Fione’s mouth. Her guards had been quick to restrain her from joining in.
But for most days, it contented Olene for Fione to serve as an amusing decoration. The woman clearly did not fear Fione’s escape, she conducted business with the princess as much her confidant as Uli was. Purely her audience.
So it was no surprise that, when a warrior entered, Olene waved him in to report without a thought for Fione’s presence.
“Aren’s scouts captured a spy. Joian defector returning, she thinks.”
“So? Was he tortured? What did he say?”
“Not yet, chief. He claims he knows you. Aren sent him here for you to deal with.”
“Ah...I see. Send him in.”
The warrior opened the door, waving at someone in the hall, and another warrior entered, carrying a satchel and yanking a rope after him.
A younger man, definitely Joian, who might have been handsome, if it were not for his wild mustaches, hurried into the room, his hands bound by the length of thick cord rope the warrior was carrying. A pang of recognition went through Fione, and he considered her with a steady eye, his gaze lingering on her tits and exposed pussy, the hair still matted from Uli’s attentions.
“Artan,” said Olene. Her attention had returned to her paperwork. “You return.”
“As promised, great queen of the Dragon Clans,” he said, kneeling gingerly, lest he lose his balance in the attempt with his hands tied together.
Olene snorted at his titling of her, but a smile crept onto her lips.
“Cut him lose, Artan duVahn is a… friend... to the Clans,” she said. One of the warriors produced a heavy cleaver, chopping Artan’s bindings apart with a single brusque motion. The one who’d dragged Artan into the room placed the satchel on the desk for Olene. Then both warriors pressed their fists to their chests in salute and filed out of the room, closing the door behind them.
“You may not remember me, lady,” said Artan, bowing again to Princess Fione. “But I once had inestimable pleasure of painting you with a gentleman whose name escapes me.”
“Martimar,” said Fione. Artan duVahn. He’d painted her getting fucked by Lord Martimar. She’d had the thing burned when Martimar had been dismissed from court. If your princess takes you as her paramour, you should consider yourself blessed as well as taken. You shouldn’t be found burying yourself in Lady Pertrad's crotch. Especially not in the same month as Fione’s birthday.
“How’d you come to be a traitor, Artan?” she asked. “Was I not a good patron?”
“An excellent patron, princess,” said Artan. “But I must eat. The Dragon Clans may not appreciate fine arts, but they do appreciate a man
who can accurately render faces.”
“A valuable skill not found among the clans,” said Olene. The contents of the satchel lay on the desk before her, and she held up a charcoal sketch of a young woman with dark hair.
“Who’s this?”
“That is Lady Kiera vai Ullan, daughter of the current Exarch of Tia Vashil, Lord Ked vai Ullan. I am told she is a warrior of great renown, who most recently spent time in Coulain. According to the Sorcerer I was in service to, she is leading the expedition to free Princess Fione.”
“Daughter of the Exarch? A valuable woman for the Guild to give up so easily.”
“I am afraid not. The Exarch is merely a figurehead for the Guild. Even if he wasn’t, his position is balanced against the power of the other four Noble Houses in Tia Vashil.”
Olene nodded. “Much the same in the Clans. And this man?”
A blond, lantern-jawed man stared out from the parchment.
“Tau vai Keller, also a talented warrior of Tia Vashil, joining Lady Kiera on their rescue mission.”
Olene rifled through more sketches, staring at them without saying anything.
“The various Sorcerers of the Guild.” Artan rushed to fill the silence.
“Are any of them coming for the Princess here?”
“No, great queen,” said Artan.
“They’ve sent just two people?”
“Apparently the Guild requested volunteers.”
Olene shook her head and looked at Fione.
“In the Clans, a chief orders their warriors to go. We would never send just two warriors on a mission. It is death.”
“You might never have noticed two, if not for traitors like Artan here,” said Fione.
Olene smiled, her teeth showing. Her gaze fell on Artan.
“Yes, you have been useful, Master duVahn. And you were promised a reward. Name it, and it is yours.”
Artan glanced at Princess Fione and then Olene.
“Anything?” he asked.
“Anything you think you have earned,” said Olene.
Artan paused, glancing at the princess again.
“I would like the princess.”
“You cannot believe I’ll give her up to you.”
“No, not to keep. Just for…” Artan trailed off.
“Ah, for your pleasure.” Olene’s gaze measured Fione. “She might welcome such a thing, the state I’ve kept her in.”
“I would never welcome traitors,” spat Fione.
“But I think not, regardless of how she feels about you,” said Olene. She rose from the desk, coming around to stand near Artan. Her left hand ran along his side.
“But would you accept me instead? Would I satisfy you as a reward?” Her voice was husky, the confidence that she would be acceptable somehow drained from her voice.
Artan was consumed by what seemed to be such an obvious ploy to Fione.
“Of course,” he said. “I never... I never dared ask.”
Olene’s hand slipped into his hair, drawing him down for a kiss. Her right ran along his chest then down his stomach where it slipped into his breeches.
“Oh, you’re hard already,” she said. She looked at Fione. “It is so gratifying, isn’t it, to find a man ready for you? To feel him in your hand, pulsing with his need.”
“Disrobe,” said Olene. Artan’s hands flew to the laces and clasps on his clothing.
“Uli, lay here,” called Olene, as Artan was shedding his clothes. She pointed to a space on the floor in front of Fione. The petite thrall complied, laying on her back, staring at her Chieftain. Olene stepped astride her, lowering to her knees so that her pussy touched up against Uli’s mouth, the thralls’ nose colliding with the belt made of large dragon jade discs that hung on Olene’s waist. Olene groaned and gasped as the wet sounds of Uli’s mouth working slipped into the room.
Artan approached, his clothes discarded on the ground, stepping towards Olene, who grabbed his cock, aiming it for her mouth. Artan groaned as Olene’s lips closed around him, taking him quite far on the first go. One of his hands tried to wrap around the back of her head, but fended off by the unyielding hair of her waxed crest, he instead cupped the shaved curve above her ear. His other hand fondled one of Olene’s large breasts, the fingers flicking along the piercings in her large dark nipples. Combined with Uli’s focus on Olene’s pussy, the Dragon Clan chieftain was moaning under the attention.
Artan’s cock slipped from Olene’s mouth, and she pumped it rapidly in her hand, looking at Fione.
“Don’t you find something wonderful about taking a man in your mouth? Knowing you control their pleasure? Knowing how vulnerable they are in that moment?”
Olene lifted Artan’s cock, still pumping her hand up and down his length, then leaned forward to suck one of his balls into her mouth, pulling away until Artan let out a groan and she released him with a pop, then did the same with his other testicle
“Mmm, good, Uli,” she told the thrall tucked between her thighs. Her hand reached down to her crotch, tightening in the woman’s hair, before feeding Artan’s cock back into her mouth, taking him with long gulping movements along his length.
Fione, already eager from Uli’s attentions, was unable to prevent the effect the display was having on her, even if it was between her captor and a traitor. Her pussy was growing wet, the fresh thicket of hair that had grown there since the Clans had taken Tia Joi damp from Uli’s earlier attentions and the perspiration now flecking her skin. Her nipples were hard, her body flush watching Olene. She squirmed and shut her eyes, trying to block it out, but the sounds made her open them again.
Olene was gasping, one hand pulling on Artan’s buttock, easing him into her more. Her body vibrated, each muscle echoing her pleasure. Both hands fell to Uli’s hair, and the little thrall gave a muffled sound in pain as her mistress pulled her deeper into her crotch.
“Oh, yes!” cried Olene, Artan’s cock exiting her mouth again, forgotten as her thighs tightened around Uli’s head. She shuddered once, twice, and then again, groaning as she struggled through her climax.
She lifted up a little, and Uli scooted out from under her, panting and gasping for air. Artan moved for Olene to resume her sucking, but she shook her head, instructing him instead to lie down on the floor, his feet next to Fione’s. Olene squatted over him, facing the princess, lifting his cock and then lowering herself, embedding his length in her pussy. Fione watched Olene’s pussy lips spread and widen to accept him, the piercing in her clitoral hood quivering slightly in response. The princess’ breath caught in her chest; when she lifted her eyes up the chieftain’s sculpted body and heavy breasts, Olene was watching her, her haughty amused expression bringing a burning flush to Fione’s cheeks.
Olene lowered her back, lying against Artan’s chest as the artist began to thrust in and out of her. One of her own hands found her clit, manipulating the piercing, and she sighed as Artan’s hands wrapped around her tits, feeling at the dragon jade bars that penetrated her long nipples. Her necklaces were made of long, flat, overlapping plates of jade, each one carved with some image of a dragon. The jade bangles on her wrists and ankles clattered together as she moved, her belt echoing with a deeper, duller sound.
“I could not go for as long as you have without this,” Olene told Fione. “To have a man between your legs, so hard, filling you, so—”
She cut off as she drove herself down Artan’s body, pressing more of his cock inside her.
“—completely, to feel his hands on your breasts—”
Artan pulled insistently on her nipples and Olene gasped, her chest heaving as he lifted her breasts by the piercings. When he released her, she wrapped a hand to around head, turning it to hers so she could kiss him.
When their kiss broke, Olene rose up, bracing herself on Artan’s knees, pounding herself along his cock. Artan was groaning behind her, his hands fondling her ass. Olene stared at Fione each time the artist’s member speared into her, Fione’s mouth agape at the sight
of the show in front of her.
Olene rose up, as if to plunge back down on her partner, but instead let him fall out of her. She stood, then bent to take Artan’s cock in her mouth for a moment, before stepping forward and bracing herself on Fione’s chair back, her legs spread.
“I wonder if you’ve ever tasted a man’s cock after it’s been inside you like that,” Olene mused. She ran a fingernail along Fione’s cheek. Fione jerked her head to the side, and Olene chuckled at her. “If you’ve ever experienced your taste and his mingled together.”
Artan stood, one hand placing his cock at the entrance to Olene’s pussy. The chieftain groaned, a low, piercing noise that spoke of her pleasure, as Artan entered her in one long, slow thrust. She turned her head to look at him.
“Take me hard,” she said.
Artan grunted, his hips slapping up against her. Olene grunted back, shifting her legs back to meet his, her tits bouncing in time to each smack of flesh, dancing in Fione’s field of vision. All of Olene’s jewelry came alive, chiming out a chaotic melody with each strike of Artan’s cock into her cunt.
Olene lowered her body, so that her head was nearly resting in Fione’s lap, the waxed crest of hair hard on her bare thighs. In this position, Olene’s shoulders had fallen lower than her hips, and Fione could see each muscle in her back in shapely relief and the fine curve of the Dragon Clan chieftain’s ass as Artan spread it with his hands to give himself better access.
“This is good, isn’t it?” asked Olene. “It is always fun to see their pleasure, but there is something about turning away, how good it feels from this angle as they penetrate you, how you can close your eyes and just think about your pleasure, isn’t there?”
Every nerve ending in Fione’s body was aching for a release. Each warm, damp breath from Olene’s mouth set the princess’ thighs to aching. Closing her eyes achieved nothing but to fill her senses with the smells and sounds of their coupling, triggering her own memories and fantasies. Opening them brought either the sight of Olene shaking in her lap, or Artan’s leering stare. Fione knew he was thinking of her and the Dragon Clan chieftain reversed, and, even as she was reviled at the thought of being with a traitor, part of her thrilled that she had that effect on him, even while buried to the hilt in another woman.
Dragon Jade Chronicle: The Warlock And The Warrior Page 23