The Empress' New Clothes

by Jaid Black

  Kyra snatched her hand away as if she’d been burned the moment she became fully cognizant of what she had just done. She had touched another woman. Privately. Intimately. In desire. Mortified, color stole into her cheeks.

  “There is naught to be embarrassed of,” Ari murmured, taking Kyra’s hand and gently placing it back upon her breast. “Do not be embarrassed,” she whispered.

  Kyra bit her lip. She hesitated for a moment, then took her time, feeling, exploring, knowing what it was to hold a desirable woman’s breast in her hand and feel the nipple tighten under her touch. The pink bud jutted up, stabbing her palm. The woman it belonged to exhaled shakily, enjoying it.

  Slowly, tentatively, Kyra lowered her mouth to Ari’s nipple and curled her tongue around it. She drew it in and sipped of it, sucking and laving, aroused by the Chief Priestess’s moans.

  “You’re so beautiful,” Ari murmured. “So beautiful…”

  She’d never really thought so, but the Chief Priestess was making her feel that way. She knew she should stop, but there was one more thing she wanted to experience before she did.

  “Not half as beautiful as you are,” Kyra whispered as her mouth unlatched from Ari’s nipple. Her head came up and she smiled down to her, their gazes clashing, as she slowly lowered her mouth to the mystic’s.

  Their lips met in a soft kiss. Kyra cupped Ari’s breast and ran her palm over an erect nipple as she thrust her tongue between the Chief Priestess’s lips. Ari moaned into her mouth, her hand running over Kyra’s belly, finding its way down to her aroused pussy. She played with her clit, rubbing it in knowing circles until Kyra groaned, coming.

  Kyra tore her lips away, panting heavily, thoughts of burying her face between Ari’s legs overwhelming her. Instinctively realizing that she was not ready for that lesson in carnal indulgence yet, she decided to stop now rather than further lead this woman on, a woman whom she called friend. She bent her face and placed a soft kiss on the tip of Ari’s nipple. “I’m sorry,” she softly murmured, raising her face from Ari’s breast. “So sorry.”

  Ari smiled, her eyes hazy with desire. “There is naught to apologize for,” she whispered thickly. “We have many Yessat years left to love each other.”

  Kyra smiled back, at peace once again. Her eyelids were heavy, tired. The feel of male hands roaming over her back and legs, neck and buttocks, had a balmy effect. Slowly, unthinkingly, she lowered her face onto Ari’s breasts and fell into a deep, sated sleep.

  Chapter 31

  Kyra woke up to the feel of her body climaxing. Disoriented and breathing harshly, it took her a few moments to figure out where she was and what was going on.

  She was still laying on her belly, the pillows making it so her breasts fit comfortably beneath her. She was highly aroused, but Ari and her slaves were nowhere within her sights.

  Kyra was about to draw herself up to her knees, when a long, thick cock slid into her pussy from behind. Sucking in her breath, she expelled it on a moan. “Mmm. I missed you,” she whispered provocatively.

  “Did you?” Zor thrust into her slowly, taking his time gliding in and out of her wet channel.

  “Mmmm.”

  He rotated his hips, grinding into his nee’ka’s flesh from behind. When Kyra groaned appreciatively, he rewarded her with deeper thrusts, reaching up and around her at the same time to rub both of her nipples between his fingers. Her moans grew louder. His thrusts became faster.

  “I could sense your arousal whilst training,” Zor gritted out, his breathing becoming labored. Kyra shifted her hips, slamming backwards to meet his plunges. He groaned. “Aye, pani—give me that lusty channel. Just like that, my hearts.”

  “Oh—yes. Oh god—Zor.”

  “Did Ari’s slaves bring you to your woman’s joy?” He pounded into her harder, faster. She moaned louder, thrusting back eagerly. “Answer me,” he growled. “Never think to lie to me.”

  “Yes,” Kyra admitted, her worry cutting through her haze of desire somewhat, “they did.”

  Zor ground his hips until she moaned again, worry forgotten. “And did you like it?” he demanded. “Did they make you feel as you feel now, nee’ka?”

  “Yes—no.” Kyra closed her eyes and groaned loudly as a delicious climax ripped through her belly. “Yes!” she cried out as it hit her, “I liked it…but no, it was never like this, could never be like this.”

  Zor’s thrusts became fast and merciless, primal and branding. “Who do you belong to?” he asked arrogantly, his jaw rigid from holding back his own release. “Who do you allow to fuck this tight channel?”

  “You. Oh god—only you.”

  “Good answer.” He possessively tugged at Kyra’s nipples, slamming into her from behind until her cunt began to tremor around his manhood. He allowed her the benefit of his release as a reward for her lusty peaking. “For you, pani,” he ground out.

  Kyra moaned and whimpered, writhing in pleasure-pain, as the delicious, ceaseless climaxes pounded relentlessly throughout her body. Her husband’s seed was addicting, the violent peaks it brought her mind-numbing in their intensity. She knew she had spoken the truth when she had told him that no other man could ever make her feel this way.

  A few minutes later, while Kyra lay in the fold of Zor’s arms, a worry line creased her brow. Propping herself up to study his face, she searched his gaze for the truth. Her husband’s glowing eyes were dimmed with…Sadness? Hurt? Betrayal?

  “Zor?”

  He took a deep breath. “Aye, nee’ka?”

  “You’re not angry with me are you?” She ran a hand over his jaw, her eyes filled with regret. “I swear I would never have let those enchanted men touch me if I had thought it would hurt y—”

  “Enchanted?” Zor grabbed Kyra by the chin, careful not to hurt her in the doing. He searched her eyes. Hoping. Praying to the goddess. “They were not of flesh?” he asked hoarsely.

  “N-No.” Kyra frowned. She thumped her husband on the chest. “You thought I let a man of real flesh touch me?” she screeched. “I think I know the difference between a consummation feast which you are present for and everything else.” She huffed out a breath of air. “How could you!”

  Zor was too relieved by his nee’ka’s words to be concerned with her shrewish tongue. He forced her head back down upon his chest and hugged her tightly against him. “Ah, pani—forgive me. I was overset with jealousy and grief.”

  “Oh Zor,” she mumbled, her face pressed into his chest, “I—harrumph—let me up.”

  “Eh? Oh, aye.”

  “Thank-you.” Kyra peered into his eyes, searching for answers she wasn’t finding. “You made love to me thinking I had permitted a man to touch me.” She shook her head slowly, not understanding. “Why?” she asked softly.

  Zor inhaled deeply. Twirling a lock of her fire-berry hair around his index finger, he closed his eyes briefly and sighed. “I couldn’t bear to lose you, my hearts, no matter what had transpired in this place. I needed to know you were still mine, that none other had been inside your channel.” He placed a kiss atop his wife’s head. “I could not bear to lose you,” he repeated hoarsely.

  “Oh Zor.” Kyra studied his features as she rubbed her hand soothingly across his chest. He had the look of a man she’d once met on earth who had thought he’d lost his family in a violent tornado, then was too overcome with relief to so much as speak when he realized that he hadn’t. “I need your trust,” she said gently. “I love you and I need your trust. May I have it?” She leaned down and kissed the dimple in his chin. “Please?” she murmured.

  Zor was quiet for a protracted moment, rubbing Kyra’s shoulders and placing loving kisses atop her head. “I trust you more than ever have I trusted another,” he admitted in subdued tones, “please give me time, my beloved nee’ka, to make that trust a perfect one.”

  Kyra smiled gently. “You’ll work on it?”

  “Aye,” he admitted, his emotions genuine.

  She smiled again. “That’s al
l I can ask.”

  * * * * *

  Two months later, Zor, Kyra, and their three hatchlings strolled down to the main atrium for a bit of fresh air. Zora and Zara took their father by either hand and guided him toward a pizi tree.

  “Wook, papa.” Zora pointed enthusiastically toward the blue-leafed shrubbery. Her glowing blue eyes lit up. “Wike mani.”

  Zor laughed aloud. “Aye, my hearts. ‘Tis like you and Zara too.” He bent down and plucked a fire-berry fruit from the pizi tree, then held it out to his first-born pani, the elder by five nuba-minutes. “You and Zara have fire-berry hair too. Is that not the truth, Zara?”

  Zara looked up to her father and grinned gamine-like. Where Zora was the more sensitive of the twins, the contemplative and reflective one, Zara was the opposite, light-hearted and bubbly. “Zawa eat it!” Her chubby fingers snatched the fruit from her papa’s hand. Ever thoughtful of her twin, she broke the juicy ball into what could have passed for halves, and handed Zora a piece of it.

  Zor chuckled softly, rubbing Zara on the head. “You care not what the color looks like, merely what it tastes like, aye?”

  Before Zara could answer, he heard Kara squealing behind them. Turning, Zor grinned at the exasperated look on his nee’ka’s face.

  Kara was the royal mischief-maker and had been getting herself into trouble since she first learned to crawl at nigh unto a fortnight of age. Now, at ten weeks since her hatching, the tiny hellion was beginning to walk. Unfortunately, this just gave her further opportunities to get herself into trouble with mani.

  “Don’t touch that, sweetheart,” Kyra chided. “It has sharp fronds.”

  Zor rolled his eyes. “By the sands, as if the babe knows what a frond is.” He stood up and walked to where Kara stood. She was currently reaching out for everything within grabbing distance. “Come see papa, my hearts.”

  Kara held out her arms and squealed. Her two-toothed grin gave the word ornery new meaning. Zor chuckled, shaking his head. “Wee terror.”

  Kyra strolled over to Zora and Zara’s sides. She plucked two more fire-berries from the pizi tree and handed one to both. “Can mani have a bite?” She laughed when both of them shook their heads no.

  “Papa get.” Zora looked at her father, instructing him to get their mani a fire-berry fruit. She had being a High Princess down to an art form.

  Zor inclined his head solemnly. “But of course, Your Highness.” Winking at Kyra, he plucked three fruits, handing one to her and keeping two for Kara and himself. “Think you Kara misses Jana o’er much?” he asked on a serious note. “My niece used to accompany her on her walks.”

  Since the Tron insurrectionists had up and disappeared from Trek Mi Q’an, Dak, Geris, and Jana had gone back to Ti Q’won a couple of weeks past. Rem and Kil remained in Sand City, hesitant to leave until they were certain the threat was truly over. Although permitted a bit more freedom within the palace perimeters, Kyra was still not allowed to leave for so much as a shopping expedition. And worse yet, Zor refused to explain why—a constant bone of contention between them.

  “I know Kara misses Jana,” Kyra replied thoughtfully. “But Jana wasn’t walking with us for the entire last week of their stay.”

  “Oh?” Zor raised a brow. “Why not? Where was she?”

  “In trouble,” Kyra said around a mouthful of fire-berry. She swallowed it down, then grinned. “Jana threw the biggest temper tantrum this side of Trek Mi Q’an, so Dak confined her to her suite.”

  “Ah.” Zor understood immediately. ‘Twas already obvious to all that where Zora and Zara were twins by birth, Kara and Jana were twins by mutual love of mischief-making. Those two would forever keep the Q’an Tal men on their toes.

  Zara tugged at Zor’s hand, effectively snagging his attention. “Aye, my hearts?”

  “Mo, papa.” Her glowing blue eyes lit up when he handed her another fruit. “Zowa now.”

  Zor handed Zora another fire-berry. “Now you’ve both two and no more. ‘Twill spoil your noon repast.”

  Kyra scanned the horizon, her eyes squinting semi-closed as she tried to focus on a particular goings on. The glitter in the air was slightly dense this morning, rendering visibility less than perfect. Eventually, however, recognition struck. Frowning, she jabbed Zor in the side Kara wasn’t attached to. “There goes Jera again. I swear, it’s not fair that she can leave while me and your daughters are stuck—”

  “What?”

  “Uh, Jera.” Kyra’s gaze shot over to her husband. “Leaving. Why are you yelling?”

  “Hold Kara.”

  “Huh? Zor!” Kyra placed Kara on her hip even as she scowled at her retreating husband’s back.

  “I’ll explain later, my hearts!” Zor’s bellow carried from over his shoulder, while he sprinted toward the great hall at top speed.

  “You better,” Kyra murmured. Shaking her head, she took a deep breath and dismissed her husband’s bizarre behavior from her mind. “Well sweethearts, where should we walk to today?”

  * * * * *

  Cam, recently promoted to the rank of Commander, returned with the rest of his hunting party later that moon-rising. He had been gone for a little over eight weeks, scouting out Trek Mi Q’an for signs of the insurrectionists. They had found naught.

  His promotion having earned him a suite all his own on the south side, he no longer shared rooms with Gio and Mik, though they were just next door. Cam missed living with his friends at times, but for the most part, he thought the new situation just as well. He was tired, hungry, surly-tempered, and having been away from Mara and his two Kefas for so long, he was also especially lusty. ‘Twas with great pleasure and much appreciation that he found Mara awaiting him in his bedchamber, naked and legs splayed wide.

  Cam gritted his teeth as he thrust into her wet cunt. He closed his eyes and savored the feel of her pulsing flesh enveloping his staff. Rocking back and forth within Mara, he grabbed a plump breast in either hand as he took what he needed.

  “Mmm—master. How I have missed the feel of you inside of me.”

  “Have you?” he asked thickly. “Have you spent your days thinking of new pleasures to bring to me?”

  “Aye.” Mara wrapped her legs around Cam’s waist, getting the most sensation out of the ride he gave her. “Would you like for me to get Muta and Frig to join us in the vesha hides?”

  “Aye,” Cam ground out, thrusting faster. “After I peak, you may bring my beauties to me.”

  Five hours later, Cam fell asleep on Frig’s large green breasts. Muta continued to suckle from him, asleep or no. Her shimmery blue lips worked up and down the length of his staff, which even in sleep remained semi-hard.

  Mara retired to her own room within the suite feeling vastly sated, but somewhat apprehensive of the future. She had seduced the handsome golden warrior for a purpose, binding herself to him because she had thought he would be easier to control than the omnipotent High King, whom she’d never wielded any power over since he’d had so many others to see to him and his pleasures before taking a mate.

  She’d vowed nine Yessat years of service to Cam, believing him manageable. After all, ‘twas no life easier than being a bound servant to a lusty warrior, giving her the free time she hadn’t had when forced to work for a living before she had been captured by the High King in war.

  Her mother had called her lazy, but Mara didn’t care. She was most content when free to do as she willed, answerable to no one. To her way of thinking, being bound to a warrior gave her all of the sensual pleasures of a nee’ka with none of the responsibilities associated with such a status. No child bearing or estate management, no political functions or hostess duties. Just fucking. Fucking and freedom.

  Mara flopped down onto her bed with a groan. She was sore between her thighs, having brought the master to pleasure many times this moon-rising.

  Sighing, she closed her eyes. Had all been going according to plan, Cam should have been more emotionally bonded to her by now, Mara being the onl
y humanoid whose channel he had constant access to. ‘Twas necessary to bond in order to retain power.

  Mara worried her lip as she lay in the dark, rethinking what she’d done. She was beginning to worry that what the gossips had said was true…only a Sacred Mate could ever have a hope to get a warrior to do her bidding.

  Chapter 32

  A week later, Cam awoke to a lusty channel riding up and down the length of his shaft. ‘Twas a channel he hadn’t availed himself of in two moon-risings, favoring Muta’s mouth over it.

  Mara seemed especially wanton this day. She was riding him hard. He rewarded his bound servant for her appetite by rubbing her clit as she continued to grind down on him, sending her into a series of climaxes that nigh unto milked him of his life-force.

  Almost. But not quite.

  It took a lot of riding, but eventually Cam was able to spurt his seed deep inside Mara’s channel. He patted her on the buttocks for her efforts, then rose to don his warrior’s garb.

  Cam sighed as he gazed into the holographic mirror in his bathing chamber. He now understood why warriors purchased as many bound servants as finances allowed before finding and claiming their Sacred Mates. He was growing bored with Mara.

  And he had thought to keep her nine Yessat years? By the sands, how naïve he had been! He would definitely not make Mara keep that vow.

  A Kefa was ever able to hold a warrior’s attention, but a bound servant was not. ‘Twas most likely because Kefas were only called to the vesha hides once in a rare while, whereas a bound servant’s main obligation was to make her self ever-available for a tumble. For the most part, Kefas remained relegated to the baths, unless a warrior was unable to purchase his own bound servants, or like Muta, the Kefa in question had a particular talent most humanoid servants didn’t possess.