by Jaid Black
The Q’an Tal men looked horrified. “She denied you the right of a husband to join with his mate?” Dak asked disbelievingly.
“Aye.” Zor shook his head, looking every inch the familial martyr. “’Twas torture, I tell you.”
Kil snorted, shaking his head. “’Twas torture for me as well. You haunted my rooms much as you did the time she banned you after the gentling.” He rolled his eyes. “I could have lived without getting channel those moon-risings had you not subjected me to having to feel your bedamned forehead to see if you were dying of the ague every few minutes.”
“’Twas possible,” Zor insisted, his spine rigid with defensiveness. “I was seeing spots before my eyes and hearing the voices of fallen warriors whispering to me of my doom.”
Kil grunted, waving his hand in irritation at the memory. “We have strayed much from the point.”
Dak scratched his head. His smile was chagrined. “What was the point again? I forget of what we were speaking.”
“Jera.”
After his three brothers muttered their “oh”s, Kil flicked a hand toward Zor. “Leastways, when your nee’ka came to speak with me and I told her nay, that I would not help”—he ignored Zor’s grunt of approval—“she complained that it wasn’t fair that Jera could go shopping whilst she and Geris were confined to the palace.”
“Shopping?” Rem intoned. “What’s this of shopping?”
Kil repeated verbatim all that Kyra had said, then eyed his brothers questioningly. “Think you I am being paranoid, or is it too much coincidence that on both of the occasions Jera disappeared, Tron insurrectionists were spotted near the market, trysting with a high-born woman no less?”
Zor ran a hand over his jaw. He craned his neck back and looked absently up to the golden sky. Sighing, he returned his gaze to Kil. “Nay, I do not think you paranoid.”
“Nor do I,” Rem murmured. He noticed the pitying glances his brothers were throwing him and scowled. “Do not,” he bit out, “feel sorrow for my fate. ‘Tis done.”
“I want her watched by trusted warriors at all times,” Zor said in a low, conspiratorial tone. “The next time Jera thinks to leave, let her go, but have her followed.”
Kil nodded slowly, regretfully. He wished none of this burden to be Rem’s to bear. “’Tis done.”
Chapter 30
Kyra couldn’t stop thinking of her sister. Every time she looked into Zora or Zara’s faces—who were both her sister’s spitting image save their eye color and golden skin tones—and every time she spoke her daughter Kara’s name aloud, memories of the woman she had been named for would weigh heavily on her mind until it was all she could think about.
After a sennight of watching his nee’ka suffer from depressed spirits, Zor could no longer bear to see her in pain. He insisted that she visit with Ari, who, as Chief Priestess, was the personal spiritual advisor to the throne.
Kyra agreed immediately. Not only did seeing Ari mean spending time with a wizened friend, but it also meant leaving the palace. Or so she had thought. Zor had taken great pleasure in announcing to his nee’ka that there was an enchanted barrier she could pass through—right there in the royal apartments—that once crossed, spit her out inside of the dune where the priestesses and their male slaves resided.
Instead of reacting badly to Zor’s announcement, Kyra had been elated. She might not be getting directly out of the palace during her visit with Ari, but she’d never actually seen a mystical barrier before either and therefore couldn’t wait to get a move out.
Zor, who was well used to the evidence of magic, had thought her excitement naïve, but had decided against commenting upon it. He simply counted himself fortunate, relieved that he and his nee’ka would not have yet another argument about the restrictive life that the insurrectionists were forcing her to lead. He felt bad enough about her confinement as it was, unsuccessful as his hunters had been so far in apprehending Ty and his goons.
And so here Kyra stood, her heart pounding in anticipation, as she prepared to unlock a door within the royal chambers that she had never even noticed before. Unlike the majority of the heavy crystal and bejeweled doors within the palace, which opened and closed like the ones seen on earth—though here there were warriors aplenty to summon them open and closed for you—the door that led to the enchanted barrier was like the ones aboard the gastrolight cruiser, opening and closing automatically when they sensed the arrival and departure of your body heat.
Taking a deep breath, Kyra raised her palm to the recognition scanner and waited with wide eyes as the door’s lock clicked open. A moment later, the sensory door slid wide, bidding her entrance to the other side.
Kyra stepped inside slowly, giddy with anticipation. She felt like she was in the middle of a Nancy Drew mystery, where she herself was starring in the lead role.
The room was dark, slightly cold, much like the temperature in the stomach of a cave. Noting the twisting staircase of shimmering gold crystal that led to another floor below, Kyra crept toward it, realizing this had to be the way since she could see no other method for exiting the chamber.
As she made her way down the winding, corkscrew stairs, the faint sounds of female moaning could be heard as if from a distance. Kyra followed it, curious, and if she was honest, slightly aroused by it.
At the bottom of the stairs there lay a glowing golden circle where the floor should have been, but nothing else. It was as if the twisting staircase and the shimmering circle laying at its end were perched in a vacuum where nothing else existed.
Kyra shivered, her nipples thrusting out, as she ran her hands up and down her arms to ward off the chills. The scene before her had gone from feeling like a Nancy Drew mystery to looking like an episode out of The Twilight Zone.
Ridiculously afraid that a vampire or a ghoul or something of that nature was about to pop out at her, Kyra picked up her pace and made her way to the glowing, pulsing orb of gold that lie in wait. Warily, she placed first one sandaled foot and then the other upon the large, flat, disk-like structure.
Another door appeared.
Constructed of a pulsing red crystal, the door was encrusted with glittering Trystonni jewels around its frame. Reaching out for the round, protruding diamond-esque structure that could only be a knob, Kyra’s teeth sank into her lip as she slowly turned it, then snatched her hand back when the door began to open of its own volition.
The door swung wide.
The moaning grew louder.
She stepped through the threshold and followed the sounds.
Kyra caught her breath at the opulence of what was, in effect, Ari’s personal kingdom. Everything inside of it, from the ceiling to the floors to the walls, was made of shimmering golden sand. With one exception, she silently amended, after reaching a fork within the dune where one had to decide which path they would take. Every road was paved of golden trelli, except for one paved of glittering red sand. Instinctively, Kyra knew that this path would take her to the Chief Priestess of Tryston.
Kyra grinned. She had gone from feeling like she was in the middle of a Nancy Drew novel, to fearing that she’d walked into The Twilight Zone. Now she was following the yellow brick road—or red sand road—that led straight to the Chief Priestess of Oz. As long as no flying monkeys obstructed her path, she figured she could handle the rest of her adventure.
Kyra strolled down the red road at a cautious pace, in awe of her surroundings despite herself. The path was long, shimmering, and narrow. The sounds of females being pleasured grew louder and louder.
When at last she reached the end of the trail, Kyra was deposited at the mouth of a massive golden cave. Wide-eyed, her gaze took in its every detail until at last it settled at the top. Ancient Trystonni writing similar to hieroglyphics was firmly embedded into the sparkling tunnel.
Q’i Liko Aki Jiq—She Who Is Born of the Goddess.
Suddenly feeling very trite and unworthy of being in a place that carried such an omnipotent air about it, Kyr
a hesitated at the mouth of the dune, wary of continuing onward.
She took a deep breath and expelled it. Telling herself to quit acting like a behemoth-breasted chicken, she straightened her spine and walked through the cave’s threshold.
In the belly of the dune lay paradise.
Nude priestesses were scattered about everywhere, reclining in grooves within the dune that were each thatched with colorful silken pillows. Naked male slaves sporting perfect physiques and enormous penises attended to their whims. Some priestesses were being fed, others made love to, and still others both simultaneously.
Kyra’s gaze was snagged by the largest of the grooves that lay in the center of the dune, directly where the red path dead-ended. This groove was raised above the others by a formation of trelli sand, clearly stating that the priestess within it was exalted above all others. And, of course, she was. For within the colorful pillows littered about the groove reclined Ari, being serviced even now by several slaves.
The closer Kyra got to the erotic scene before her, the more aroused she became.
Ari lay on her back moaning. Her legs were splayed wide, her pink nipples jutting seductively upward with arousal. A slave’s mouth closed over one nipple, clamping around it and drawing from it. Another mouth descended on Ari’s other nipple, latching onto the protrusion and sucking.
Desire surged through Kyra’s body, growing more and more acute as the scene continued to unfold.
Ari’s cunt was as as pink as her nipples, puffed up and swollen with need. Two tongues slithered around her sleek folds while a third tongue flicked at her clit. The Chief Priestess’s eyes were closed in her passion and a look of pure, carnal bliss etched her features.
Through a haze of desire, it occurred to Kyra that She Who Is Born of the Goddess was erotica incarnate.
Kyra’s steps were light and methodical as she continued to walk toward where Ari lay. The rhythmic rise and fall of the Chief Priestess’s breasts beneath suckling mouths signaled that her climax was drawing nearer. Her back arched and her head fell back upon the massive, pillowing breasts of a beautiful golden Kefa that was obviously enchanted of trelli sand, rather than the colored sands found in the borderlands.
The Kefa’s gentle hands massaged Ari’s temples, soothing the Chief Priestess even as her peak neared. Ari’s moaning grew louder, her breathing choppier. She splayed her legs wider, giving her male slaves as much access to her genitalia as was possible.
The slaves continued to suckle from every intimate part of her body. Mouths were clamped onto her nipples, drawing harder now that Ari’s climax loomed over the horizon. Tongues slithered faster about her glossy pussy lips. The possessor of the tongue attending to her clit drew the swollen bud into his mouth and suckled vigorously.
Ari moaned louder, her head thrashing about upon the Kefa’s breasts. The Kefa gentled her, turning her perfect face toward one plumped up golden nipple. The Chief Priestess’s mouth latched onto it and suckled from it.
Ari’s orgasmic convulsions began a moment later. Her body trembled violently, quaking out its relief as she moaned into the Kefa’s golden breast.
Ever the voyeur, Kyra’s eyes took in everything, spellbound and aroused that she was.
“Come, Kyra. Remove your qi’ka and lie with me.”
Kyra’s head snapped to attention. She hadn’t realized that the Chief Priestess knew of her arrival, but then again, Ari seemed to know of everything. Doing as she had been instructed to do, Kyra removed her black qi’ka, allowing it to drop to the floor of the dune, before making her way up the golden steps that led to Ari’s lair.
The Chief Priestess smiled serenely as her male slaves and Kefa continued to massage her all over. “Lie down upon the pillows next to me and allow my slaves to see to your need.”
Kyra shook her head no. She couldn’t imagine that Zor would care for male hands rubbing and caressing her intimately. It was true that they both took Kefas to bath, but they were not real people. These male slaves were quite real, their skin tones that of flesh and blood men.
Ari grinned, her dimples popping out. “They are enchanted like the Kefa, my High Queen.” When Kyra’s eyes widened questioningly, the Chief Priestess smiled fully, her white teeth flashing against her tanned skin. “My men are of the sands.”
“Then how is that they look so…”
“Real?” At Kyra’s nod, Ari explained unabashedly. “The spell of their enchantment is more powerful, giving them the look of pure Trystonni warriors. I love the look of a warrior.” She shrugged absently. “I’ve the powers to enslave real ones—the younger ones leastways—if I chose to do so, yet do I not believe in binding the humanoid spirit. Even possessing bound servants goes against my beliefs.”
A wrinkle of disgruntlement appeared on Kyra’s forehead. “I agree with you wholeheartedly!” Settling herself down upon the pillows, she propped herself up on an elbow, turning to meet Ari’s gaze. “I’ve tried to tell my husband a thousand times that I don’t like having women bound to us, but it falls on deaf ears. He won’t even speak of the issue with me any longer,” she admitted.
Ari chuckled softly. “Somehow, this does not surprise me.”
Kyra sighed. “Yes, well, that doesn’t mean I won’t keep try—oohhh.” She sucked in her breath, briefly closing her eyes as four male slaves appeared out of virtual thin air and began to massage her everywhere.
“It’s all right,” the Chief Priestess murmured. “Take your pleasure and we can talk freely after.”
But Kyra barely heard her. Already she had fallen to her back, her thighs opening, accepting the intimate caresses the slaves gave her. Large warrior hands massaged each engorged breast, plucking and plumping up her nipples. She moaned, delirious with arousal.
Through glazed over eyes, Kyra gazed up into the face of one of the male slaves massaging her. His eyes were the only part of him that gave away the fact that he was enchanted. Although crafted of a beautiful azure, the slave’s eyes were as lifeless as a doll’s—the same as a Kefa.
As if the knowing granted her a license for lasciviousness, Kyra closed her eyes and allowed the erotic feelings to overwhelm her, now that she was certain no life dwelled within the slaves’ bodies.
Sand. They were but enchanted sand. Yesss.
Kyra raised her arms over her head and rested them on the silken pillows behind her. Hands caressed her everywhere. Her breasts. Her thighs. Her belly. Her labia. Even her toes. She moaned in need and desire as the liquid flame that had been pooling dormant in her belly flared to life.
Splaying her legs wider, Kyra sucked in her breath as male fingers retreated and tongues replaced them. Wet, hard, insistent tongues swirled everywhere within her pussy folds. A slave’s mouth latched onto her swollen clit and drew moans from her with his intimate play.
On a groan, Kyra’s back arched and her legs went unbelievably wider, giving the handsome, lifeless creatures full access to the center of her need. A feminine tongue curled around one of her jutting nipples, drawing from her. She didn’t have to open her eyes to know it was the beautiful, provocative Ari sucking on her nipple, nursing from the base of her erect peak to its swollen tip. Over and over. Again and again.
Kyra’s moans grew louder. She needed to climax, but didn’t want the sexy, urgent feeling of dangling over an erotic precipice to end.
After a few more delicious stolen moments, her body took the decision from her mind and pounded ferociously toward climax. Kyra’s cry of release sounded throughout the cavernous den, as every cell in her body tingled with ecstasy. Hot blood surged to her face and her nipples thrust temptingly upward. Her whole body felt alive.
As the intensity of the peaking winded down and the soothing, languid calm stole throughout her body, Kyra sighed dreamily, then turned back to face Ari. The Chief Priestess was laying on her side facing her, grinning unashamedly, her body buoyed up by an elbow.
Kyra grinned back. With a moan of fatigue, she shifted onto her stomach and situated her
breasts beneath her in such a way that made reclining possible. “Mmm.” She smiled slowly, her eyes semi-closed, as the slaves began running their hands over her back and buttocks. “That’s nice.”
“I know.” Ari did the same, flopping over onto her belly and allowing her enchanted men to administer to her. “Of what did you wish to speak to me?”
“Hmm?” Kyra furrowed her brow, unable to remember for a moment. The non-sexual touching felt good, the perfect after-climax elixir. For these few precious minutes, she had forgotten all of her worries and sorrow. But eventually she remembered.
“It’s my sister. Kara.” Kyra shook her head slightly and sighed. Briefly describing the events surrounding her sister’s disappearance to the Chief Priestess, she then voiced the question most prominent in her mind. “It’s the not knowing that kills me, Ari. Was Kara murdered? Or is she still alive and well? Will I ever see her again?” Her eyes grew moist at the thought. “I miss her so much,” she choked out.
Ari reached out and tenderly rubbed her hand up and down the length of Kyra’s arm. “She is not dead,” she said quietly.
“What? Really?” Kyra’s head shot up. Her eyes were hopeful, her smile wistful. “Will I see her again?”
Ari’s eyes shuttered, concealing them briefly as she drew in a deep breath. “I would that I could tell you that which you long to hear, my beautiful High Queen, yet I simply do not know for a certainty. I see her swept through a time vortex, much as you were. But is she in this dimension or another?” She sighed. “I simply do not know.”
The Chief Priestess closed her eyes completely as she rolled over onto her back, putting herself closer to Kyra. Ari placed her hands behind her, cradling her neck, which served to thrust her nipples upward. Kyra couldn’t seem to resist running one of her hands over Ari’s plumped up breast, her finger tracing over the peak of her nipple.