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Subject: Jungle Moons 1/5, Erotic Sword & Sorcery
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The THC Adult Text Archive: JUNGLE1.TXT (820 lines)
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==========================================================================
Jungle Moons
[THIS STORY IS NOT TO BE DISTRIBUTED TO INDIVIDUALS UNDER THE
AGE OF EIGHTEEN]
[P.S. -- My wife, Clio, insists that I inform my readers that
the phrase "Fuck like the first storms of summer" is directly
stolen from one of her poems. I also would like to thank her
for checking elements of this story for accuracy -- exactly
which elements I will leave up to the reader's imagination.]
Prolog
Despite my habit of continual self-deprecation, I like to
think that I'm a good person. I only steal from people who can
afford the loss, I've never killed save in self-defense, and I
occasionally contribute some of my ill-gotten loot to the
Temple of Phaedra, to help those less fortunate than myself
(even though I suspect the priests use most of it to fund
off-night orgies with women from the Red Temple). I have never
denied enjoying sex, but I've only wanted it with willing
partners. The notion of inflicting pain during sex, or even
pretending that it wasn't voluntary had always been somewhat
alien to me. I hadn't really caught onto the notion that not
everyone in the world feels that way.
Case in point: back when I was a lowly
swordsman/apprentice sorcerer at the Imperial Magic Academy, I
was a lot more idealistic than I am now. I used to stay out
late, hoping to interrupt a mugging in progress, rescue a
maiden from brigands, or possibly foil a Slaerthist plot to
turn the imperial court into geckoes. Much to my regret, I had
never had the chance to do any of these things. Never, that is,
until that fateful night when a full moon rode in the skies
above Godhome, occasionally obscured by drifting grey clouds,
and I saw a coffle of hooded, chained figures being herded into
a back entrance of the Temple of Kashella of the Nine Whips, a
sect known for their exuberance and love of suffering.
Readying my saber, I crept closer, noting that as the last
figure was herded in by burly, whip-wielding guards, the door
shut behind them, but failed to latch. Waiting a suitable
period, I edged the door open, loosing my blade and reviewing
my meager list of offensive spells.
The hallway was narrow, lit by occasional lantern-boxes,
and as I slowly made my way down it, I heard disturbing sounds
echoing from ahead of me -- the sounds of screams, impassioned
blows and pleas for mercy. Gods, I thought, what monstrous evil
were the Kashellists up to now? Up to this point, they'd confined
their sadism to each other -- now, had they taken to stealing
innocent citizens and inflicting wicked torments on their
unwilling flesh? Well, if that was the case, they'd have to deal
with Wulf the Sorcerer!
The corridor widened into a vault-ceilinged room, and I
cautiously peeked out into the dim light beyond. The scene was
enough to make my blood freeze.
In the vast chamber, at least a dozen individuals, male
and female, ranging in age from their early twenties to their
late fifties, naked or nearly so, writhed in chains, shackles,
or on low, leather-padded benches. Tormenting them was a squad
of leather-clad men and women, their faces concealed by hoods
or masks, all emblazoned with Kashella's whip-sigil. The
victims were being whipped with crops, flogged with cats,
poked, prodded, their various extremities pinched in vices.
There were other-- to my young eyes even less savory --
torments going on, but I didn't wait. I bounded into the room,
brandishing my saber (no, not that one -- the metal one... I
know what you're thinking, you perverse little mother-grabber...)
and trying to prepare a spell of stunning.
"Hold, you torturing bastards!" I shouted. "Don't move and
no one gets hurt! [Yes, it was an idiotic thing to say given
the circumstances, but I was young and stupid] Now, let your
prisoners go!"
There was a moment of stunned silence as everyone in the
room, torturers and tortured, stared at me in wide-eyed
astonishment. Then, a familiar voice spoke up.
"Wulf? Is that you?"
I gaped, my head spinning, as one of the "victims," a
portly, middle-aged man, his head strapped into an eyeless
leather mask, easily unshackled himself , then pulled off the
mask to reveal the rheumy-eyed, bearded countenance of
Professor Fimbagel, my Necromancy 101 teacher.
I lowered my sword slowly, face reddening, as I realized
that not a single victim was racing for safety, and that several
of the torturers were giggling loudly under their hoods.
"Gods, Wulf," barked Fimbagel, throwing down his mask in
disgust. "You sure know how to wreck a good evening."
I stepped back, reeling with embarrassment and fled, as
the giggles erupted into raucous laughter, from both victims
and torturers.
As I dashed back down the hall, Fimbagel's voice echoed in
my ears.
"See you in class, Wulf!"
It was my first inkling that the world is often not quite
as it seems.
You may know me as Wulf the Freelance, general knockabout
and victim of circumstance. Then again, you may not. In that
case, I'll simply say that I'm one of those rootless
adventurers who's supposed to stride the kingdoms of the world
and crush the thrones of the mighty beneath my sandaled feet.
Actually, I'm a rather scruffy-looking professional larcenist who
knows just enough magic, swordplay, acrobatics and courtly
manners to get myself out a convenient door or window whenever
the going gets tough.
Those who read my previous memoir might remember that when
I left off I was still in the form of an n'doro, or lion-man,
the result of a veldt-lands sorcerer with a sick sense of
humor. I'd been captured by superstitious locals, who had
ignored my protestations that while I may have looked like a
bipedal lion, I was actually a cowardly, cringing human thief
who just wanted to go home and blow what remained of his money
on a huge jar of ale and -- if possible -- an attractive young
Red Temple prostitute with a recently-validated health
certificate.
What I got was dragged up onto an auction block and sold
to one Countess Xylara, a white-skinned, white-haired, and
red-eyed Xeshite noblewoman with, I was later to learn, a taste
for the exotic. Of course, given my luck, she wasn't even a
deviant in any traditional sense I was aware of, but that's
getting ahead of my story.
I was taken, still chained and protesting a blue streak to
a couple of eunuchs who probably didn't even speak Imperial
Common, to Xylara's barge -- an ornate, gilded seagoing
abomination drawn by a team of twelve matched hippocampi.
There, I was taken belowdecks, and given over to the attention
of a second pair of thugs -- ogres this time, who grunted, and
urged me into a vaulted chamber.
"Wash, cat-boy," growled the first. "The mistress likes
'em clean. Heh, heh, heh."
"Heh, heh, heh, heh," replied the second (apparently
they'd both had the same dialog coach), who unchained me, then
slammed and locked the door.
For the first time in weeks, I was alone and unchained and
in civilized surroundings. So civilized, I reflected, as to tip
over into the bottomless abyss of decadence.
The room was windowless save for a tiny porthole which a
sprite might have had a hard time fitting through (I didn't
even bother to consider escape by this route), but lit by
numerous blue-white mage-globes, items owned, back in the White
Empire, only by wealthy nobles and merchants, and then only one
or two at a time. Everywhere I looked, I saw richly polished
dark wood, brass and soft carpets. The room was subdivided into
numerous levels, each railed and comfortably furnished with
couches, leather chairs, and even hanging plants, arranged sort
of like a reverse ziggurat. All the levels led down to the
bottom of the room, where an ocean-sized alabaster tub lay,
water gushing in through spigots carved in the form of laughing
porpoises. The water steamed gently, and pink flowers floated
on the surface.
I wasn't sure whether these were special guest
accommodations, or if this was considered to be the slaves'
quarters -- I wasn't about to question my position. Since I was
already naked save for a filthy little loincloth which covered
about nothing, I didn't waste a lot of time undressing, but
instead plunged into the massive tub, feeling hot water inundate
my every pore and orifice, soaking the tawny fur which
still covered my body, massaging my weary muscles. With a sigh,
I sank beneath the surface, letting the water soak into the
rough, matted hair of my mane (I'd been a lion-man for several
weeks now, but I still wasn't entirely used to it).
When I breached the surface again, I was afraid that the
accumulated filth of weeks of travel across the Veldtlands
would have turned the water black, but it seemed that some sort
of drainage system whisked away the soiled water even as more
poured from the spigot. Gods, had I actually managed to land on
my feet yet again? I was, after all, a cat, if only temporarily.
I luxuriated in the water for many minutes, wondering
exactly what was going to happen. Of course, I had my
suspicions; Xeshites are a notoriously perverse and sybaritic
race, and the countess' expression when she bought me had been
anything but wholesome and generous. She had, I thought, looked
at me with the same expression as a spoiled rich child
presented with a unique and expensive toy by an indulgent
parent. Given the Xeshite's well-known propensities for deviant
behavior, I harbored few illusions as to exactly what she
intended to do with her new toy. Lion-men were apparently rare
outside the Veltlands (my auctioneer had actually suggested
that I was some kind of coward since I'd allowed myself to be
captured alive), and I suppose the various Xeshite men, women
and animals might get tiresome and dull after the fiftieth or
sixtieth time. I sighed.
It wasn't much later that I got my first inkling as to
what Countess Xylara intended. Along the wall of one of the
middle-elevated sections of the room, a panel slid silently
open. Its appearance, though soundless, made me jump, setting
up a tidal wave of hot, perfumed water and flower petals.
Through the opening came a remarkable vision. It was a
woman -- human, and by the look of her hailing from Litharna or
Murvane. She was short, pale-skinned, with a tiny, triangular
face and large, brown eyes. Her hair was jet black, tied into a
long braid which hung down behind her. She wore a pale lavender
satin robe, which swished and moved alluringly as she
approached me. Behind her, the panel slid shut once again.
"Hello," I said as politely as I could muster, in Imperial
Common. "Uhh..."
"Hello, lion-man," she replied in a pleasant voice,
sensuously accented and heavy with implications. "I am Alrynna,
slave to Countess Xylara.
"Uhhh..." I said again, trying to keep my mouth from
hanging open. I was acutely aware that she was naked beneath
the robe, and I hadn't enjoyed the carnal company of a female
H Hsince the life-sucking daemoness at the Alabaster Temple. I
felt a faint stirring beneath the water, and hoped that it
wouldn't be too obvious. "Charmed. I'm not really a lion-man,
you know..."
"It doesn't matter," Alrynna replied, gliding forward like
a cloud. "Xylara wanted a lion-man, so lion-man you shall be.
I have been ordered to offer myself to you, lion-man. As Countess
Xylara is your mistress, absolute and unquestioned, so are you
my master, to do with as you choose."
As I gaped (I should really stop being so astonished at
how randy everyone else in the world is, but they keep
surprising me), she slipped out of the robe, presenting to me a
body carved of pale stone, legs full and muscular, a whispy
thatch of pubic hair between them, belly slightly curved,
breasts small and well-formed, her pink nipples stiffening as
they were exposed to the air.
"How may I serve you, master?" she asked. "May I join you
in your bath?"
"Of course, if you want," I babbled, the old human Wulf
showing through the muscular and exotic lion-man exterior. "I
mean, I haven't seen a woman like you in..."
She stepped into the water without raising a ripple and
silenced me with a kiss, fitting her lips to my short muzzle
and slipping her tongue into my mouth.
"No talk," she whispered. "The Mistress wishes me to
please you." She pulled back and looked into my eyes. "She
instructed me to repeat these words to you exactly: `This slave
is yours. Do with her as you choose. If she does not please
you, whip her or beat her as you like. She is not to deny you
any pleasure, short of her own death. If she shows the least
hesitation in any way, you may punish her, then inform me so
that I, too, may punish her. She is commanded to serve and obey
you as she serves and obeys me, and as you are to serve and
obey me when the time comes. Enjoy the pleasure of her body,
and take her as hard and as often as you desire. So say I,
Countess Xylara of Xesh'."
I gaped, jaw hanging. These words, repeated in that soft,
sensual voice, from that delicate mouth, its owner sitting
beside me, naked in the warm water, white skin wet, tiny
breasts just beneath the water, were like foul curses issuing
from a Rexxaran vestal. I was speechless.
"Do you understand my mistress' words?" she asked, concern
etching her elfin features. "If I have not recited them to your
satisfaction--"
"No!" I barked, making her jump and splash more water.
"You did fine. Nothing wrong with your delivery at all. You
were perfect. In fact, possibly the best recitation from memory
I have ever heard. No need for punishment or chastisement of
any kind."
"Oh." I'd swear she looked disappointed. "I am glad that
my master is pleased with me. Now," her features hardened, and
a look of unrestrained lust glittered in her brown-black eyes,
"how may this slave serve you?"
If she didn't love her work, she certainly gave a good
impression of doing so. We embraced and tongued each other in
the bath, warm water lapping at us, hands sliding over slick
skin, touching, stroking, rubbing, teasing. In about a half-dozen
heartbeats I was as hard as a rock (I forgot to mention that the
stupid shaman who stuck me with that trebly-damned lion-man
body also gave me an organ the size of a prize Shalban squash --
by the way, that means really big, for people who aren't familiar
with Shalban squashes and their dimensions). Her nimble fingers
danced up and down my cock's engorged length, alternating
pressure with light, tickling touches so cunningly that I was
seriously considering coming when she drew me out of the bath
and led me to one of the room's several couches.
There, she toweled me dry, but as I reached for her she
gently stopped me, and stepped back. As I watched, my lust
rekindling along with an uncomfortable pounding in my temples,
she spent a majority of the time stimulating herself with the
towel, and a minority of it actually drying herself. She rubbed
its rough surface across her nipples, and I watched as they
distended into fleshy pink knobs. An observant lass, she
noticed that this appealed to me, so she played with them more,
stroking and pinching, squeezing so hard that she moaned
softly. Then she drew the towel between her legs, pulling it
back and forth against the neatly trimmed patch at the junction
of her thighs, breathing harder and harder as she did so. The
white fabric slipped between the fleshy folds of her labia,
rubbing roughly against the soft skin of her cunt, against her
clit and -- I assumed, since she pulled it backwards with equal
fervor -- her asshole. I realize that this is not a sensation
which most women of my acquaintance would relish, but judging
by her expression, it put Alrynna into a near-ecstatic state,
body trembling, eyes closed, lips tightly pursed, breasts
quivering and tight as a mainsheet in a high wind.
Well, this would be enough to put any male who expressed
even a passing interest in the opposite sex well in the mood,
human or not. I was certainly no exception, and I realized that
my erection had grown downright painful. I rationalized that
since Alrynna had seemed so eager to please, it couldn't hurt
to put her to the test.
"Get over here, gorgeous," I said, sitting up and
indicating my uncomfortably hard shaft. "Apply some of that
enthusiasm here."
She seemed a bit surprised at my phrasing (not the most
original in the world, I'm the first to admit), but smiled
warmly, replied, "As the master wishes," and slipped down
between my knees, soft pink tongue flicking along the underside
of my cock.
"Does this please my master?" she asked, then gave me one
more long lick and encircled my cockhead with her lips.
"Oh, yes," I replied, "I would say that it does."
My, the woman was talented. As noted, my non-human
equipment was considerably more massive than what I'd carried
as a man (I've never been obsessed with such things, but it was
damned hard to miss), but Alrynna's skilled mouth managed to
get around it all, then slide it effortlessly down her throat.
Though the sensation threatened to overwhelm me, I was still
able to gape in surprise as most of my sizable organ vanished
between those seemingly-tiny lips.
I groaned. "Harder," I gasped. "Teeth..."
She got the idea, lightly scoring the flesh of my cock
with her small white teeth, slipping it in and out of her with
greater and greater speed and force each time. I felt the hot
urgency of building orgasm, and she must have felt it, too, for
she released me, then began tugging at my cock with both hands,
flicking her tongue across my sensitive head.
Another groan escaped me. "Gods..." I managed, "I don't
think I can..."
I didn't. Weeks of dealing with frustrated lion-man libido
(they only have sex every few months, but when they do it's an
all-out orgy) combined with a normal human sex drive (that is
to say, the desire to have sex more than twice a year) had put
me in a horrific state while I traveled alone across the veldt,
forcing me more than once into the arms of those reliable
stand-bys, Mother Thumb and Her Four Daughters. With the
exception of a life-draining snake-daemoness in a ruined temple
(an experience I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy -- then again,
maybe I would...), I hadn't enjoyed female company in a couple
of months.
I engage in all this useless exposition to explain why, a
moment later, I unleashed a geyser of hot white come all over
Alrynna's hands and lips, an event which she greeted with
unrestrained delight, continuing to lick and suck and pull at
my cock even as my eruption subsided into twitching
after-shocks.
"Ahhh, master," she said, rolling onto her back beside me,
her face still streaked with my come. "Our mistress will be
pleased."
Rationality returned to me in a sudden rush, and, as
Alrynna cleaned us both with towel and tongue, I realized
exactly what I'd landed in.
I wasn't stupid (I lack good sense most of the time, but
I've never considered myself stupid), so the purpose of
Alrynna's demonstration wasn't lost on me. She'd obviously been
trying me out for the mistress, and would return with the
report that I was hung like a mountain troll, came like a
volcano, and liked to watch women masturbating with towels
(although I didn't come by the first two honestly, the third
was legitimate). Rexxara and Phaedra... Was that good or bad?
I thought on it for a few moments, watching Alrynna finish
sopping up the remains of my orgasm with the towel -- her skin
was so white, her breasts so small and compact, her face elfin
and innocent...
One other thing I should remind you of -- as lion-men only
have sex every three to six months, they seem to store up their
libidos, and are able to come four or five times in a given
session and, as you know, I hadn't had sex in quite a while.
Again, I'm running off at the mouth here -- the fact is
that my cock began to stir again, and I gazed at Alrynna with
newly-kindled lust.
As her towel dragged across the sensitive flesh of my
organ, it sprang up once more, filling up like a boiling sausage.
Alrynna looked up, an instant of surprise flashing in her
eyes, then got the idea, and smiled wickedly.
"It's back," I said. "I think I'd like to put it inside
you this time."
"As my master wishes," she said, simply.
I figured that she would appreciate a little stimulation
of her own. My tongue had approximately the same consistency as
the towel she had enjoyed so much -- I figured she'd appreciate
my applying it to her with equal enthusiasm.
I was wrong. She didn't simply appreciate it, she pretty
much went wild. The rough surface scraped at her thighs and she
sighed. I touched her mons, and she moaned. I spread the soft
lips apart and ran my tongue over the moist pink cuntflesh
inside, and she screamed.
I drew back. "I'm sorry," I said. "Did that hurt?"
She looked down at me with a frustrated expression. "No!"
she barked. "Don't stop!"
Awfully demanding for a slave, I thought, as I returned to
my job, rubbing my tongue against her cunt, touching the
rapidly-swelling protrusion of her clitoris. She let out a
piercing shriek which rapidly rose into the supersonic, grabbed
the back of my heavily-maned head, shoving my face against her
pussy.
I licked faster and harder -- gods, it didn't seem to hurt
her, so I figured what the hell. The harder I licked, the more
she moaned and screamed, and when I slipped a finger into her
cunt, rubbing the inside walls and feeling her juices come
thicker and heavier. A moment later, she did something I hadn't
ever experienced before (except later with Narisha, but she's a
demon, and they're built differently) -- she tensed, a
strangled cry escaping her throat, and unleashed her own
orgasm, a flood of sticky, sweet-tasting liquid, rushing out of
her pussy, drenching my face, her thighs, and the couch
beneath.
We fell apart for a few moments, both panting heavily. My
cock was still hard enough to cut glass, but she was
overwhelmed by sensation for a moment.
"Oh, master," Alrynna sighed. "No one but my mistress has
ever done that before..."
Aha, I thought... the plot thickens.
"And I think," I replied, "that you're the first woman
who's come all over me. I liked it."
"Let me fuck you," she said. "Put your cock inside me..."
I wasn't about to argue, and allowed her to slip astride
me, holding up my rod, and slipping it between her
still-sopping pink cunt-lips.
"Ahhhh..." she gasped as she slid down onto me. She was
tight, her cunt gripping me, and I slowly slid into her against
substantial resistance. She loved every instant of it,
releasing a string of tiny moans and sighs, until at last the
entire length of my enlarged n'doro penis had filled her.
Then the motion began -- slowly at first, she rocked up
and down, rising and falling on my cock, her juices lubricating
the way, cunt still clinging to me in a tight corolla.
I sat up and grabbed her shoulders, rasping my tongue
against her small breasts, watching with satisfaction as her
nipples swelled and hearing her moans increase.
"Harder," she gasped. "Bite me."
No longer concerned about hurting her -- damme but it only
seemed to excite her more -- I bit down on one luscious pale
nipple. An avalanche of contractions raced through her body,
and I felt her come around me once more, clamping down so hard
that I almost winced in pain. Sensation overwhelmed me and I
let my claws -- carefully sheathed until now -- slip out, and
ran them, firmly but not too hard, down Alrynna's heaving
flanks, leaving tiny pink furrows behind, scratching but not
breaking the skin.
"Ohhhhh..." Another soul-deep gasp escaped from her, and
her cunt closed in on me once more. The heavy contractions
continued, milking my cock, squeezing and releasing, until I,
too came once more, erupting another load of come into
Alrynna's heaving cunt.
I'm not entirely clear on what happened after that, since
the weariness of the preceding weeks suddenly crashed down on
me, and in a few moments I was out cold (not terribly
considerate to Alrynna, I realized, and vowed to make up for it
later), to dream of what might lie in store for me over the
next few months.
Lady Xylara put in an appearance a couple of days later,
or rather I was summoned to her presence. The ogres showed up
again, friendly as always (an unusual state for an ogre, let me
tell you -- normally they have all the personality of a small
piece of wood, and the social skills of a rabid wolverine),
informed me that I was expected to bathe and groom myself,
then escorted me out on deck. The sea was an unbelievably deep
blue, choppy and foaming, save for a large bubble around the
barge itself which remained flat and placid -- some sort of
enchantment, I suspected. This tub needed it -- an ornate
nightmare of excessive Xeshite naval architecture, lacking
sails or oars, and towed by captive hippocampi, we'd be swamped
in anything rougher than a stiff breeze. A squadron of small
Xeshite armed cutters also accompanied us, remaining close
enough to assist if pirates or Jarreks showed up (whether these
were an official government escort, or part of Xylara's
household troops, I wasn't able to find out).
"In there, puss," grunted my escort, indicating the
baroque nightmare near the stern which seemed to serve as
captain's (or at least owner's) quarters. "Say hi to the
mistress for us."
"Heh, heh, heh," said the other. Ogres are easily amused.
Not knowing what the hell to expect, I walked through the
gilded, overdecorated door and into the scented chambers
within.
Once more, I felt like a bug on a plate. The center of the
room, where I now stood, was its lowest point; the remainder
was tiered, like an amphitheater, similar to my luxury prison
belowdecks. It was softly lit and hung with silken material,
and on the tier immediately above me lounged the pale-skinned,
white-haired Xeshite creature who had bought me a week before.
She was of the same type as the lovely Alrynna -- that is
to say she was small and slender, as if delicately crafted from
carved ivory. Her skin was even paler than that of her slave --
milk white, in fact, far paler than any woman I'd ever seen
before, without even a trace of color. Her hair was similarly
without pigment, luxuriant ropes of pure white, hanging around
her like a cloak as she reclined on a low padded couch above
me. If she stood, I'd swear that her hair would drag on the
ground.
The mistress regarded me coolly, with strange eyes. Their
whites were normal, but her irises were blood-red, surrounding
deep black pupils. Her face was oval, soft and fragile-seeming,
her mouth small and a lustrous pinkish color.
Countess Xylara was wrapped in a white satin robe, a few
intricate traces of red embroidery offsetting the altogether
colorless nature of her skin and the fabric.
After a few moments, Xylara extended an arm with an
elaborate flourish.
"Kneel, slave," she said in a high, tiny voice which was
at the same time charged with authority. "I am your mistress,
and you shall serve me as I desire. You are not familiar with
what is expected of a slave, so your current insolence will be
forgiven. In future it will not, however. Now, kneel before
your mistress."
I'm a practical man. I realized that I wasn't in any
position to argue. With one call, my delicate little Xeshite
bitch-queen could summon a squad of ogres, without the kind
sensibilities of my escorts, who would relish the thought of
beating me bloody, twisting a few limbs in the wrong direction,
snipping off various important parts of my anatomy, and tossing
me to the sharks.
Needless to say, I kneeled.
"What would my mistress have of me?" I asked, although, as
you might guess, my razor-keen intellect was racing with plans
for escape. Unfortunately, none of them would work, so I
figured that I'd think on them later.
Xylara smiled. "You learn quickly, lion-man. Do you have a
name?"
"Yes," I replied.
The silence stretched out between us as she waited for me
to provide it. For my part, all she'd asked me is whether I had
one, and I'd be damned if I gave her any more that what was
actually required.
"Ah," she said at last. "As you obviously won't tell me,
I'll have to call you Nummy Muffin Kookoo Butter --"
"NO!" I roared. "My name's Wul -- uh -- Chuma, all right?
Does that please my mistress," I snapped insolently, using the
name of the lion-man whose pride I'd temporarily usurped.
She chuckled. "You have spirit, Chuma. And Alrynna tells
me you have other skills, as well. I hope you enjoyed her
company."
"I liked her well enough," I replied, trying not to let on
that I'd spent the last night or two feverishly thinking about
her.
"I see. Well, that is good, for you will probably be
enjoying her company quite a bit from now on."
Damn... Maybe this Xeshite noblewoman was going to be
kinder than I'd thought...
"I can tell that you like the idea, lion-man," she said
and laughed, a light, tinkling sound. "Now, although you are my
slave, and are bound to do as I desire, I will tell you about
myself nonetheless. Perhaps it will help you serve me better."
She shifted her position, settling comfortably into her chaise,
the fabric of her robe stretching across her breasts, giving me
a brief silhouette of a stiff nipple.
"Listen to my story, slave. It will tell you much.
Xylara
The jungle pressed in upon Xesh like a tight green veil,
hot and stifling. A great verdant fist of humidity, the entire
nation was wrapped in its sweltering embrace, and its people,
unable to tame the jungle, simply decided to become like it. In
vast stone cities, the Xeshites feasted off the bounty of the
jungle, and learned to live with its rhythms. With plentiful
food, few went hungry, and the vast surpluses of food created a
thriving economy. Hardwoods were harvested from the seemingly
inexhaustible forests, gold and silver panned from its rivers,
slaves torn mercilessly from its indigenous peoples.
The Xeshites grew bored and wealthy. Decadence crept into
what was once a prosperous and vital culture. Nobles dwelled in
elaborate towers or jungle estates, engaged in elaborate
intrigues, complex love affairs, and wild games of love and
murder. Many wandered into a wilderness of drug-induced dreams,
never to return. Others indulged their most perverse whims,
creating mad and horrific amalgams of sex, torture, death and
mutilation. The jungle wilderness, where chaos reigned and only
the strong survived, had completely taken root in the Xeshite
psyche.
Count Utharzi yi-Exyndra controlled nine separate estates,
ranging from Brass Tower, in the city of Xesh itself, to the
riverside complex known as the Moonpool. He had six daughters
and two sons. All wished to be the sole heir to Utharzi's vast
possessions. His daughters were Tysha -- tall, slender, with
long black hair that had never been cut, and who wished only
to become a priestess of Phaedra; Udra -- pale of skin, with
thin, crinkly red hair and deep blue eyes, a schemer and
dabbler in black magic; Nineh -- blonde, lush bodied, given to
overindulgence in wine, herb-smoke and dream powders, dedicated
H Honly to more and more elaborate debauchery with her harem of
slaves, the first of which she recruited when she was but
eighteen years old; Daeshi -- skeletally thin, with frosty blue
hair, quiet, possessed of a cold and deadly intelligence,
daughter of a union between Utharzi and a Litharnan mistress,
who died in childbirth; Nyxra -- dusky skinned and black
haired, dedicated to her father and apparently untouched by the
malevolence and perversity which lurked in the Xeshite soul;
and Xylara -- youngest and frailest of the six, born with
milk-white skin, red eyes and snowy hair, largely ignored by
her father and shunned by the remainder of the family.
Utharzi's sons were Kyric -- an athletic, muscular black-haired
young man of great bravery, but little intelligence, and
Thorvaz -- thin, weak, and gawky, but plainly the brightest and
most dangerous of the family. Thorvaz had little time for the
elaborate debauchery and affairs which Xeshite tradition
demanded, but gave himself instead to the study of sorcery, and
the development of an elaborate network of spies, informers and
agents throughout his household, and among rival houses as
well.
Of this family, Thorvaz and Daeshi were reckoned most
likely to succeed their father, while the others were expected
to receive small shares of his estate. Rather than competing
with each other, the two developed an alliance of sorts, with
each dedicated to supporting the other's claim, and intent upon
a close relationship after Utharzi finally passed away. Exactly
how close Thorvaz and Daeshi's alliance was proved the source
of many rumors and obscene speculations, but no one was able to
prove that their relationship was any more than political.
Utharzi himself was a stern, black-bearded man who shunned
many Xeshite traditions. He refused to shave his head, and
enjoyed engaging in physical labor. He personally led many
slave-taking expeditions into the jungle, often returning home
with appalling wounds. The Xeshite primarch awarded Utharzi the
order of the silver griffin for his selfless bravery during
the Third Jarrek Incursion, in which the reptile-men, weary of
the constant drain of Xeshite slave-raids on their villages,
banded together and tried to sack Xesh itself. It was said that
ten thousand jarrek war-canoes filled the harbor of Xesh, and
that the city would indeed have fallen had Utharzi and his
household troops (many of them jarrek slaves themselves) not
held the gates of the primarch's palace for two hours while the
Xeshites rallied their forces.
Though he had little patience for the meaningless
maneuverings of the Primarch's court, Utharzi was an exemplary
Xeshite. His estates were maintained by legions of well-trained
slaves, who were mercilessly punished for the slightest
infraction, but also compelled to constantly express their love
and admiration for their master and his family. His
entertainments were painstakingly-planned masterpieces of
eroticism and violence, often in combination. He maintained a
seraglio containing dozens of young men and women from many
nations, and there indulged in his various passions, the chief
of which was the infliction of pain upon the innocent and
untouched.
As for his family, Utharzi possessed mixed feelings. Thorvaz
and Daeshi pleased him most of the time, though he
often disparaged their frailty and unhealthy appearance. He
would have much preferred his other son, Kyric, to be his heir,
but eventually even Utharzi was forced to admit that the brawny
warrior was nothing short of an idiot, fit primarily to fight
battles, engage in endless athletic contests, eat, drink, and
cavort with concubines.
Utharzi's opinion of the rest of his offspring varied.
Tysha he genuinely loved, but found her religious ambitions
distasteful. Udra, pale-skinned dabbler in necromancy and
extra-planar sorcery, generally met with his approval, but was
rarely present to receive it. Nineh chose to waste her time in
elaborate couplings and carnal excess -- Utharzi thought this
foolish, but at length decided it was a harmless phase which
she would soon outgrow. Nyxra, seemingly unaware of the
wickedness around her, doted on her father and loved him
dearly, and Utharzi himself, in a rare display of restraint and
fatherly love, saw to it that he did not engage in any of his
favorite vices in her presence. Xylara, his youngest, was an
albino and prone to many illnesses. Utharzi, who valued vigor
and good health, tended to blame Xylara for her weakness, but
otherwise paid her little mind.
Xylara grew up in a strange world, filled with doting
servants, scheming siblings, a distant, disapproving father,
and luxuries which might have seemed extreme and decadent in
other lands, but were considered entirely normal by the
Xeshites. Although Utharzi ignored his youngest, she was given
an excellent education by highly skilled slaves, and grew up
with a fundamental understanding of language, literature,
science, mathematics, magic and history. As her desperate
efforts to please her father and so earn his approval proved
futile, she grew to realize, as childhood slipped imperceptibly
into adolescence, that no one truly cared whether she lived or
died, suffered or prospered, and that the only person she could
truly rely upon was herself.
Xylara often wondered at the strange things her father and
siblings did. She learned early what intimate relations between
adults were; indeed, she never gave the matter much thought
until womanhood bloomed in her, and the first feelings of
passion and desire stirred in her loins. At first, her fingers
satisfied the needs she felt late at night, and she slept peacefully.
As months dragged on, however, the burning desire was harder
and harder to quell. She was well into her nineteenth
year when she decided to approach her sisters and ask for help.
By this time the weakling child, who had not been expected
to live past her first year, had grown into a young woman of
considerable beauty and intellect. Her studies had revealed
many medications and herbs which provided her with strength,
and Xylara's own will to live had created a vivacity far in
excess of what anyone had expected. All the same, both her
father and most of her siblings still thought of her as a helpless
invalid, prone to illness and not likely to live long.
Of her various siblings, Xylara maintained the best
relationship with Nineh, who seemed best able to understand
and explain the changes and desires which wracked Xylara's body.
She visited her at her private pavilion one summer day, as late
afternoon shaded into the shadows of dusk.
Nineh greeted her sister warmly. She lounged indolently on
a low couch, naked but for light scarves draped over her body,
more for aesthetic effect than for warmth or protection. Thick,
golden ringlets cascaded from her head, across broad white
shoulders, framing a round, soft-featured face. Vain and self-
indulgent, Nineh wore cosmetics constantly, her large
blue eyes surrounded by black lines of kohl, her eyelids
painted sapphire blue and purple, her lips constantly stained
blood red. The rest of her body, inadequately concealed by
orange and red silken scarves, was lush and full, her breasts
pale pillows with large pink nipples, now slightly erect and
swollen beneath the light silk, her hips wide and flaring,
stomach and thighs full and inviting. Though her rivals and
those outside the family often made disparaging comments about
her body, calling her fat or corpulent, but Xylara always thought
that Nineh's body fit her exquisitely, rounded, lush,
excessive, yet also aesthetic and pleasing -- the sort of body
which invited adoration and exuded raw desire.
"What brings you here, my love?" Nineh asked, stretching
languorously, scarves growing taunt across the soft flesh of
her breasts. "I'm expecting Grey and Thalim soon."
Xylara settled herself on a settee facing her sister. "I
have some questions for you. They might even bear some relation
to your activities with Grey and Thalim."
Nineh's eyes widened somewhat at this, her interest piqued.
"Speak on, sister. I'm always happy to aid in your
education."
Xylara smiled briefly. She was dressed far more modestly
than Nineh, in a pearl-grey tunic with a narrow silver belt and
sandals, but she was neither embarrassed by her sister's near-nudity,
nor self-conscious at her own apparent modesty.
She had practiced what to say, and began without preamble.
"I know what you do with the slaves. I know the other
sisters do it, too, though Tysha seems uninterested. I see
pictures in my mind of you and your slaves, when you're all
naked, and they're touching you. Sometimes I think of what you
do, and I touch myself." She stroked her thighs lightly, and
indicated a point between them. "Here."
Nineh seemed pleased. "Do you really? Does that give you
pleasure?"
Xylara nodded. "Oh, yes. It is as if my entire body tingles,
and
compresses down to a single point. It's as if I'm on fire, and it
is all
quenched at once. It gives me great pleasure, sister."
The blonde woman gave a brief laugh. "Wonderful, Xylara.
You please me. We were worried about you for many years."
Xylara frowned. "Worried about me? Why?"
"You were so... frail," Nineh replied after a brief pause.
"You seemed so sickly and unable to care for yourself. Even if
you lived, we feared you would never know... the sort of pleasure
you describe."
"I've had to care for myself, sister," Xylara said dourly.
"Neither father nor most of my brothers and sisters seemed
concerned."
"I was, sister. I've always had a soft spot in my heart
for you."
"Pity you didn't show it more often, Nineh. It would have
improved my life immeasurably to know that you cared for me."
Nineh shrugged. "I'm sorry, sister. I do care for you.
Perhaps now I can make amends for past inattentiveness."
"I'm sure you can. You know that I'm no fool, sister.
Fools do not live long in this family."
Another laugh. "What about Kyric?"
Xylara nodded, smiling grimly. "Without father's protection
he'd have been fed to the hounds long ago. In any
event, I've lived long enough to know what you do. I've read,
I've watched --"
"Evidently you have," Nineh interrupted. "I wasn't aware
of your presence when I've been at play with the slaves."
"You're no fool either, Nineh. You know that father has
spy-holes everywhere. Even in your pavilion."
Nineh made a dismissive gesture. "Of course. I wouldn't be
surprised if the randy old goat has watched me himself once or
twice."
"To repeat myself, dearest sister -- I know what you do,
and I know that it is related to what I feel when I touch myself.
I've read all the books. Sometimes I read them before I
touch myself. Sometimes I make up my own scenes and imagine
them as I touch myself. You are usually in them, by the way --
I've admired the way you do these things for some time."
Nineh smiled. "Flatterer."
"Scarcely, Nineh. You are good at what you do.
Unfortunately, it is all that you do."
Nineh took no offense. "It's all I want to do."
"You fuck very well, sister. That's the right word, isn't
it? 'fucking'?"
"It's a somewhat vulgar term."
"You scream it out enough when Grey puts his organ inside
you."
"Vulgarity can be exciting. More discrete observers call
it 'sex' or 'making love'."
"Fucking will suffice, sister. In nineteen years with this
family, I've learned to be direct when I need to be. The fact
is, sister, that I want to be fucked. My hand and imagination
are good as far as they go, but I want more. I want to fuck
like you do."
A deep indrawn breath, and Nineh's succulent breasts rose
once more. Xylara noted briefly that her nipples seemed to
stiffen slightly, silhouetted even more starkly against the
thin silk.
"Oh, sister," Nineh sighed. "I think that I can oblige
you." Deep blue eyes met Xylara's, pinning her like a bird in
the web of a crab-spider. "There are many different ways of
fucking, to use the term you have so immodestly chosen. Men
fuck women, men fuck men, men or women fuck large animals --"
"Women fuck other women?" Xylara said, firmly and
distinctly.
"Perhaps even sisters fuck sisters? Is that what you are getting
to? Dearest sister?"
Nineh was impressed. "You have grown up better than I'd
hoped, my sweet little sibling." She plucked a small silver
bell from a nearby table and rang it, summoning a nyman servant,
who shuffled in slowly, owing to the fact that he had
been blinded.
"Tell Grey and Thalim their services will not be needed
immediately," Nineh told the servant. "They may amuse each
other as they please, but they are to remain ready should I
summon them later."
"Yes, mistress," mumbled the Nyman, and shuffled out of
the room, maneuvering through the furniture by memory alone.
"Now," Nineh said, discarding her scarves and sitting up,
entirely naked, to face Xylara, "perhaps we can begin the first
portion of your education."
[END OF PART 1]
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From Tommy@tommys.spydernet.com Tue Mar 11 20:31:39 1997
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From: Tommy@tommys.spydernet.com
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Jungle Moons 2/5, Erotic Sword & Sorcery
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The THC Adult Text Archive: JUNGLE2.TXT (816 lines)
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==========================================================================
Jungle Moons, Part 2
[In part one, Wulf the Freelance, in the magically-altered guise
of a Veldt-Lands lion-man, is sold as a slave to the Countess
Xylara. After receiving a "test drive" from Xylara's favorite
slave-babe Alrynna, Wulf is summoned to the Countess'
presence. There, she describes her life, growing up as the
youngest daughter of a powerful warlord. Ignored and largely
forgotten by the rest of her family, Xylara seeks out her older
sister, Nineh, for instruction in the ways of physical love, and
is given a personal demonstration.]
[THIS STORY IS NOT TO BE DISTRIBUTED TO INDIVIDUALS UNDER
EIGHTEEN YEARS OF AGE]
Xylara sat on a velvet chaise, legs extended as Nineh
crouched between them. Nineh had insisted that Xylara remove
her tunic ("It's best to avoid the difficulty of undressing,"
she had said, pulling the garment up over Xylara's head. "That
way we can get to important matters right away.")
Nineh placed her hands on either side of Xylara's shoulders,
and gazed at her, their faces only inches apart. The soft curve of
Nineh's breasts brushed lightly against Xylara's smaller ones, and
she felt their nipples touch, and her pulse raced.
"I suppose that how to start depends upon exactly what
sort of fucking you want," Nineh began. "If you're overwhelmed
with passion, and just want to be taken like an animal, I recommend
against any preliminaries. On the other hand, starting slowly is
probably the best way to do it overall."
"I'd like to go slow," Xylara replied. "It will make it
easier to remember everything."
"Good." Nineh drew closer. "I've found kissing is a good
start."
Nineh's lips touched Xylara's. They were warm and pliant,
and after a moment Xylara felt her own lips open at the insistent
touch of her sister's tongue. Nineh's arms enfolded
her, holding her close, soft skin warm and inviting. Xylara's
heart pounded faster, now, and she returned the kiss, her own
tongue darting into Nineh's mouth, tasting musky moistness.
"Oh, sister," whispered Nineh. "You've waited too long..."
"Just long enough," Xylara replied, voice muffled against
Nineh's lips. "I've waited just long enough."
A sparkling throb spread from Xylara's nipples, down through
her belly to the warm place between her thighs, and she
felt the moisture start. Her hands ran up and down Nineh's
back, stroking the carefully-oiled skin, sending tremors through
Nineh's body.
"I've wanted this so long," Nineh husked, pressing down on
Xylara, breasts pillowed heavily against her chest, thighs opening
up to slip one of Xylara's legs between them. "I wanted to show
you this..."
"Show me now, sister," Xylara replied.
Nineh slid slowly down Xylara's body, long-nailed fingers
lightly scoring the flesh of her shoulders and arms. She stopped
at Xylara's small breasts, snow-white, topped with pink
nipples growing painfully swollen and erect.
"A little play with these helps, Xylara," Nineh said,
encircling one breast with her hand. "Are your nipples sensitive?"
Xylara nodded, a small moan issuing from her throat as
Nineh's nails touched the engorged flesh. "Yes. I touch them
when I play with myself."
"You like to touch them hard or soft?"
"Hard. Sometimes I squeeze so hard they hurt."
"I like that," Nineh said. "I love to play with nipples."
She squeezed and dug in her nails, making Xylara shudder and
moan, louder this time. "I'll let you play with mine later."
"Yes."
Nineh's face hovered over Xylara's breast, and her tongue
flicked out to touch a nipple. "I love to bite, too."
"I've seen you," Xylara gasped. "I watched Grey biting
your nipples. It made me so excited..."
Nineh's lips touched Xylara's aureole, and white teeth
grazed her nipple.
"Ohhhh, Nineh. Darling... My sister..." Xylara groaned
heavily. The throb between her legs grew faster and deeper.
"Again. Again, please. You'll make me..."
"It's called coming, sister," Nineh whispered. "Are you
going to come?"
"Keep biting me, please." Xylara felt an edge of desperation
creeping into her passion, as if she would do anything for release
from the pressure building inside her. Desire grew, and she felt
like a supplicant, or even a slave, kneeling in chains before her
beautiful sister, ready to serve her in any way she desired. "I
want to..."
"To come? Say you want to come."
"Oh, Nineh, I want to come. I want to..."
Nineh's teeth bit down again, as her hand massaged the
other breast, nails biting the tender flesh. Then she switched
back and forth, biting first one nipple, then the other.
So hot... So very hot... Please...
"Ohhhh, Nineh!" cried Xylara, bucking upward. "OH! NINEH,
PLEASE...!"
Her cry trailed off into an incoherent moan, and the pressure
exploded through her, again and again.
Nineh looked pleased. "Just from playing with your nipples, little
sister. You will be very popular."
Xylara sighed, shocks tripping through her. "I want more,
Nineh. I know there's more."
Nineh grinned broadly. "And insatiable, too. My admiration
for you is growing, little girl."
With that, she crouched between Xylara's thighs, and spread
them apart with her hands. She stroked the tender flesh
between them.
"This has many names, as you have probably discovered,"
she said, blowing lightly on Xylara's thighs. "The most clinical is
'vulva,' but I've always preferred 'cunt.' It's a lovely word, isn't
it?"
Xylara nodded, feeling the fever building again.
"Isn't it lovely? Say it, sister."
"Cunt," Xylara gasped. "My cunt."
"Goooood," Nineh said gently, stroking once more. She
spread Xylara's cunt-lips apart, then touched an index finger
to the center of her desire.
"This," she said, licking a finger and stroking, "is your
clitoris. It's where all the pleasure comes from. It's what
your slaves must worship and treat with the greatest love and
care. It's called 'clit' for short. Say it."
"It's my clit," Xylara said, voice strained and high pitched.
"You're touching my clit."
"That's not all I'm doing," Nineh whispered. "I'm going to
play with your cunt and your clit at the same time."
"Will you put your fingers inside my cunt?" Xylara asked.
"I've seen you doing that..."
"You learn so quickly, little sister." Nineh licked her
fingers again, savoring the taste. "Oh, you don't need any more
spit, do you? You've got all the juice you need... I'll explain
your cunt to you, Xylara. You can put so many things in it. You
can put in fingers, or tongues, or cocks -- you know what a
cock is, don't you? No? Well, we'll fix that shortly -- or
dildoes, or just about anything you want. They all feel so
different. I'm sure you'll be wanting all sorts of things inside
your cunt, won't you?"
"I already do." With tentative hands, Xylara touched her
nipples, and felt her pleasure redouble. "I already want something
in my cunt."
"We'll start with fingers." Nineh slipped her middle finger
between Xylara's distended pink lips, feeling soft flesh give way
and open for her. Xylara gasped briefly.
"Does it hurt?" Nineh asked. "I'm sorry, darling. It's
only for a moment."
The pain passed shortly, as Nineh slid a second finger
into Xylara's cunt, while continuing to massage her clit with
her other hand. The heat built and built once more, and Xylara
realized she was tumbling headlong into another orgasm, even
stronger than the first.
"Oh, Nineh," she cried, feeling a tremor in her voice.
"Oh, I'm going to come again!"
Instead of replying, Nineh pressed her face into Xylara's
sopping cunt, a stiffened tongue rubbing her swollen clit, then
cleaving the soft fleshy folds beneath. That was all Xylara
needed to trigger yet another thundering orgasm. She cried out
once more, thighs scissoring together, hands gripping the back
of Nineh's blonde-maned head, pushing, thrusting, straining, as
another wave of explosive passion raced like white-hot metal
through her veins.
"Sister..." gasped Nineh, feeling the strength of Xylara's
contractions, pressing against her cunt harder and harder,
bringing down another wave of orgasm, then licking softly and
lightly as the tremors faded away, rising up from between her
sister's thighs, face slick with her cunt-juices.
"You are so beautiful, sister," she said, softly. "I've
dreamed of taking you this way, but I never knew. I was so
afraid you'd be sick, or die, or never know what love was like..."
"I'm here, Nineh," Xylara replied, waves of warm contentment
following the waves of passion. "I wanted you."
They stayed alone together for another hour, as Nineh
urged Xylara to kiss her, then play and suckle at her breasts,
and then play with her cunt and clitoris. Xylara felt drowned
in hot, soft flesh, and cried out in joy herself as Nineh came
and came again for her, groaning deeply, and crying out how
much she loved her sister. They lay together for long moments
after that, limbs tangled, lips seeking out soft flesh, hands
teasing and stroking.
"To see you now, as beautiful as you are," Nineh sighed.
"I knew that I wanted to make love to you, and to watch you
make love. I've thought of it, and I've played with myself,
too. To make love to your own sister -- no one I know has ever
done such a thing. Lady Thyma, Duke Xurak's daughter, fucked
both of her brothers at once, but that was just to entertain
her mother. Now I've had you, my beautiful little sister, and
we've done something no one else has done."
And so they continued. Nineh informed her of the various
ways in which a man could take a woman, then summoned her
favorite male slaves, Grey and Thalim, to demonstrate. Both
were strapping, muscular specimens with no ambitions in life
save pleasing their mistress (a brief life of drudgery in the
mines awaited them should she ever grow tired of either), and
performed tirelessly, touching Nineh's young sister with practiced
fingers and tongues, and allowing her to exercise their cocks
(Nineh explained the various names and functions of the male
organ in detail before summoning the pair) as she chose. They
took her, one after the other, under Nineh's watchful oversight,
in all manners possible.
"Put your lips around Grey's cock," Nineh said, as she sat
in a large chair, watching, allowing Thalim to lick her and
play with her clit. "Slide it into your mouth. You must relax
your throat and let it slip all the way in. Men like women who
can do that."
Dutifully, Xylara positioned herself beneath Grey and
began to lick his stiff organ. Nineh had informed her that both
Grey and Thalim had exceptionally large cocks -- all the better
to learn on, she told Xylara -- but Xylara discovered to her
own surprise, and Nineh's loudly proclaimed delight, that she
had no difficulty fitting Grey's thick organ between her lips,
and slowly slid it into her mouth, tickling it with her tongue,
sliding it out, then letting it slide in, deeper each time. She
breathed feverishly as she did so -- the thought of exciting
this man so much caused her thighs and clit to throb once
more. She salivated heavily, spittle bubbling from the corner of her
mouth as she swallowed more and more of the slave man's cock.
Finally, the entire length of his shaft was inside her, and she
began to pump, slipping the organ in and out of her mouth, lips
tightly gripped around it.
"Play with his balls," Nineh advised. "Squeeze them gently."
Xylara complied, tickling and squeezing Grey's testicles
as he moved to her rhythm, his hot shaft thick with her saliva,
moving in and out of her.
"Go fuck her, Thalim," Nineh ordered. "Put your cock in
her pussy. It's best she get it all at once, I think."
Xylara could not see Thalim as he gently spread her thighs
and rubbed his distended cockhead against her swollen cunt-lips,
but she felt him, and another orgasm built inside her like a towering
thunderhead before the afternoon downpour. She felt hot juices
cascading down her thighs, lubricating Thalim's huge penis, and it
excited her even more. She came within moments when Thalim
thrust into her, pushing aside the soft tissue inside her cunt with
persistent but gentle pressure.
"Ahh-mmmm..." Xylara's cries of passion were muffled by
the great cock inside her mouth, and she sucked with redoubled
enthusiasm.
"Get ready to taste him," Nineh warned. "I think Grey is
going to leave you a gift."
Xylara had read of men's orgasms, but was scarcely ready
for the burning gush of semen which exploded into her mouth
when Grey groaned and unleashed his pent-up passions. She
swallowed as quickly as she could, but much of it dribbled out
of her mouth, a long sticky white stream dripping from her
chin.
From her seat, Nineh applauded. "Well done, little sister.
You make me proud!"
But she was not finished. Nineh showed Xylara several
different positions, ordering Thalim and, after he had managed
to develop a second erection, Grey, to take her in as many ways
as possible. She sat across Thalim's hips and rocked, letting
his cock pound into her. She sucked Thalim as Grey fucked her
from behind. She let Thalim lift her up and plunge into her as
he stood. She let each of the men position themselves on top of
her and fuck her in turn. She even sat on hands and knees without
protest as Nineh played with her asshole, lubricating
it with oil, and allowed Thalim to force his still-stiff organ
into her.
She came every way they fucked her. She lost count of how
many orgasms she had that day, her body bucking and heaving to
the rhythmic thrusting of fingers, the lapping of stiffened
tongues, and the heavy pulse of erect cocks. She was in a world
that she had only barely known existed, and even then had known
only from books. Nineh was pleased, and repeatedly praised her.
The two slave men were eventually worn out and crawled away to
their quarters, leaving Xylara and her sister to lounge together on
Nineh's enormous bed.
"Join me, sister," Nineh said. "We'll fuck every way imaginable,
with everyone imaginable."
Xylara nodded wordlessly. Her sister, yes. Now, her lover
as well. For the time being, the great new universe of sexuality
had opened up like an ancient and complex flower for
Xylara, and she intended to explore every subtle facet, curve
and crevice. And Nineh was her best partner in that exploration.
For now, at any rate.
For the better part of a year, all went well. Nineh and
Xylara made constant love to each other, and virtually every
slave they could get their hands on. The other siblings, only
barely aware of Xylara's existence even in the best of times,
did not concern themselves with her affairs, and contented
themselves with plotting and intriguing on their own.
Unfortunately for Xylara, her ambitions proved more far-
reaching and complex than those of her sister. For Nineh,
the pleasures of the seraglio were enough, and endless feverish
couplings satisfied her. While Xylara enjoyed her adventures
with her sister, she came to realize that sex alone no longer
kept her occupied. Now, well into her nineteenth year, and
more aware of the world around her, Xylara wanted more.
She wanted power, and she was determined to get it.
Xylara continued to read, to question, to investigate.
Watching her brother Thorvaz, and in the process remaining
unnoticed by him, she noted his network of informers in other
families, and his intrigues to gain power for his own family.
Her sister Daeshi worked closely with Thorvaz, and the two of
them took more and more charge of family affairs as her father
grew older and faded into dotage.
Xylara began to develop her own spies and informers. Nineh
gracefully gave several of her more accomplished pleasure slaves
to her sister, and Xylara learned to send these to the parties and
feasts of other large families, using them to seduce prominent men
and women, gaining valuable information and material for extortion.
Her first attempts at blackmail were crude but successful, and
Xylara soon managed to obtain a substantial income, with which
she purchased a small villa in the jungles north of Xesh, where
she and Nineh often retired for week-long debauches. Unknown
to her sister, Xylara also used the villa to meet with her new agents.
As time passed, and Xylara approached her nineteenth year,
greater desires stirred inside her. With the exception of Nineh,
who had no ambition beyond endless and ever-increasing
sexual excess, none of the family had cared for her. All had
their own goals, and none involved her. Perhaps, Xylara thought,
the youngest daughter could surprise them all. Perhaps
she could take supreme power in the family, and administer her
father's estates, possibly replacing other powerful Xeshite
dynasties, and taking her place at the side of the Primarch
himself. Her espionage redoubled, and some of it began to be
directed against her own siblings.
Though she learned quickly, and her intrigue skills were
the equal of a noblewoman from any lesser land, her brother
Thorvaz was no fool. He was aware of his young sister's
operations, but thought little of them so long as they did not
directly threaten him. But when it came to his attention that
she was cataloging the names of his informers, gathering
extortion material on him and Daeshi, and even approaching
mercenaries with the notion of forming her own household guard,
Thorvaz decided that his sister had gone too far.
He met with Daeshi on his sister's private yacht in Xesh
harbor. On deck in the guttering torchlight, he sat, nursing a
goblet of wine and glowering at Daeshi, who stood gazing over
the moonlit water. She was clad in a pearl grey gown, with a
plain silver circlet and a narrow white belt. She was painfully
thin, her hair a tracery of frosty blue-white, her eyes an
intense violet-blue. She always spoke softly, and rarely showed
anger.
"It seems," Thorvaz said, running a finger around the rim
of his goblet, "that our sickly little sister has come into her
own."
"You mean Xylara?" Daeshi asked. "She's certainly come
into Nineh enough times. Are you saying that the little cripple
actually has higher ambitions?"
Thorvaz nodded. "She has obtained a list of all my agents,
and I think she means to subvert them, use them against me. She
also seems interested in learning the layout of your private
estate, and whether you have any lovers or not."
Daeshi's calm exterior did not waver. "Not even you know
that, brother. A woman must have some secrets."
"So must a man," Thorvaz replied, "and I mean to keep
mine. The little fool seems to think that she can replace us as
father's heir. She needs to be taught a lesson."
"I agree. This family can't afford her foolishness. What
do you propose? Should we dispose of her?"
Thorvaz shook his head emphatically. "No. We can't start
that tradition. The Askaly managed to kill themselves off with
internecine feuds. I just want her left in a position where she
can't threaten us. Or perhaps in a position where father will
be forced to deal with her. Having father dispose of a treacherous
youngster is far less dangerous than us doing it ourselves."
"Of course, brother. I think I can arrange a suitable
incident."
Thorvaz's curiosity was aroused. "What do you have in
mind, Daeshi?"
"Hm. Perhaps I should let it be a surprise. Suffice to
say, a certain young man from a certain family owes me a favor.
I suspect that he will have no objection when I tell him exactly
what the favor is."
"I look forward to seeing your plan unfold, sister. It's a
pleasure to watch you work."
"You flatter me brother." Daeshi glided toward him like a
ghost, and picked up a silver pitcher. "More wine?"
The annual Primarch's Fete was the crowning moment of the
Xeshite social season. All major families were invited, and
turned up in their best finery. Dancing, feasting, music, games,
and many entertainments went on from sunset of the first
day until sunrise of the second. Alliances were made and
broken, love affairs begun and ended, trysts consummated, and
H Hthe usual debaucheries were the engaged in with even more
enthusiasm than usual. Virtually no excess was too great, and
each Primarch's Fete was greater and more elaborate than the
last.
Xylara, being the daughter of one of Xesh's greatest heroes
and most prominent nobles, had attended fetes since she
was eighteen. At the previous year's festivities, she and
Nineh had managed to seduce over sixty men and women between
them, a feat made possible by taking on as many as four at a
time. Nineh had been less than discriminating, and the two of
them had been exhausted for a week. This year, however, Xylara
was more intent on making contact with those who would help her
in her quest for power and influence.
For the first few hours, Xylara was lost in admiration of
the glittering crowds of overdressed nobles, their legions of
slaves, elaborate coaches, wild hairstyles and cosmetics. She
danced for a time, with a variety of foppish noblemen, all of
whom were either too old or too uninteresting to warrant her
attention. It was just after midnight that all her elaborate
plans for making contact and building her network of informers
came to an abrupt halt.
He was tall, muscular, firm-jawed, with long blonde hair
and a stern gaze, which fixated her from the moment she saw
him. He was dressed in a dark grey waistcoat and black breeches
with shiny black leather riding boots.
"Would you like to dance, my lady?" he asked. "I'm Parval
Syxari."
Xylara took a gloved hand, mumbling her name, and allowed
him to lead her out onto the floor, where they spun and swayed
through elaborate court dances, her mind struggling to comprehend
what was happening to her.
The Syxari were a rival house. Part of Xylara's mind knew
that her father would be furious to even see her dancing with
the man, but most of her heart and mind was caught up in an
emotional whirlwind, transfixed by Parval's deep blue-black
eyes, hypnotized by his deep voice as he whispered endearments
to her, telling of how he had seen her the year before, and had
spent the intervening months wondering how to approach her.
Later, when they were alone on a high balcony, he went so far
as to drop smoothly to his knees and confess a deep and unrequited
love for her, and ask that she at least favor him
with a kiss. That, he said sadly, was all he could possibly
hope for.
Despite her years of excess and sexual experiment with her
sister and their slaves, Xylara had never known the kind of
love which Parval offered. She had read of it, true enough, but
had always imagined that such affection and devotion existed
only in books. Now, here, alone beneath the stars and the
swollen tropic moon, a man kneeled before her and said words
she thought she would never hear.
Of course, she was lost. Parval was a handsome man, and
far more experienced than Xylara imagined. Though she had had
accelerated training in the labyrinthine paths of Xeshite society,
much of her remained a naive girl, with little practical experience.
As she and Parval wandered the halls of the Primarch's palace,
walked in the gardens, sat beside fountains and among statuary,
and Parval whispered ever-sweeter endearments to her, Xylara
grew thoroughly infatuated, and by the time the fete had ended,
she had made an appointment to see Parval at her private jungle
villa.
Daeshi told her brother as much a day later.
Thorvaz smiled. "Your efficiency continues to astonish me,
sister," he said. "They will be together at her cabin, then?"
"One week from today, Thorvaz."
"Very well. When should we come?"
Daeshi considered this. "Somewhat after she does, I think.
We should at least let the little bitch have her fun."
The days dragged by so slowly that Xylara feared she would
scream out loud. Each day, thoughts of Parval's features and
his words echoed in her mind, and each night her imagination
suggested a million exotic couplings with her new lover. She
spent some time with Nineh and the slaves, but it was not enough.
Nineh observed a certain lack of interest in her sister, but
chose not to ask why; for her part, Xylara kept silent, fearing
the reaction of any family member should she be caught scheming
with the son of a rival house.
At last, the day arrived, and Xylara set out for her villa,
accompanied by several discreet slaves. They took a pole
barge down the Uyla River, then rode pack-lizards to the heights
above, where her small hideaway crouched, hidden amid
dense green foliage.
It was a small house, but comfortable, built on three
levels, with a large courtyard roofed over with greenery, a
small bathing pool, dining salon, bedroom and library. It had
been badly run down when Xylara purchased it, and had it restored
by the most discreet workmen available. Sorcery concealed it from
outside observers and kept wild animals away -- here, in fact,
Xylara felt safer than in any other place.
She called it Arborhall, and it belonged to her alone.
Though attended by slaves, all sworn to secrecy, or rendered
incapable of carrying tales by having tongues removed,
Xylara was determined to have the villa entirely unoccupied
tonight, save herself and her lover. She sent all her staff to
the small slave quarters down the hill, and set about preparing
herself for Parval.
Oh, the day passed slowly... She tried on a dozen gowns
and experimented with a dozen different combinations of kohl
and lip-paint; none of them seemed adequate for the time which
she saw coming. Finally, she settled on a full-length silver
dress with a deep decolletage, and blood-red lips with shadowy
blue on her eyelids. She left off her smallclothes, content to
be naked beneath the gown, feeling the softness of its fabric
against her bare flesh.
And how she longed to touch herself, to think of the
pleasures Parval would bring, to carry herself to the brink and
beyond, dreaming of his touch, his lips, his loins, his... yes,
Nineh would tell her to go on, to think of it all, and not to
hold back... his cock, and how it would slip between her moist
and willing lips, and linger at the threshold of her cunt, and
finally penetrate deep inside her, and she would come and come
and come, then he would come inside her, tell her he loved her,
and she would swear eternal love and devotion, and then...
It was all too much. Xylara forced herself to concentrate
on readying herself, but the day went so slowly that as the
sun finally touched the horizon and she caught sight of Parval's
white boat making its way down the muddy brown ribbon of the
river, it seemed as if an eternity had passed.
But as soon as Parval swept through the main doors of her
villa, grandly handing his long, swirling cloak to a mindless
wolfkin attendant, who vanished back down the jungle trail,
Xylara knew the wait and self-denial had been worth it.
"Darling," he said, an edge in his voice which spoke of
the agony of their separation, then approached her and swept
her up in his arms.
Oh, how she surrendered to him. How she replied to his
whispered words of love and longing. How she responded, her
heart racing, her breath coming in short gasps, her loins aching,
her once-frail body coming to life as it never had before, not
even in the presence of Nineh and her most skilled
concubines. Oh, how she desired him, how she...
...how she loved him? she wondered. Did she? She wondered,
as he lifted her up in strong, corded, muscular arms, and bore
her toward the bed chamber, did she love this man? All he had
said and done evoked chords of memory from the long, elaborate
romances she had read, and of the wild romantic fantasies which
had chased each other through her brain since childhood.
Fantasies which remained unfulfilled even during her most
orgiastic rites with her sister and others. Fantasies of handsome
men who spoke of love and carried her to faraway places, away
from her father, and her uncaring family, and away from the
oppressive heat of the green jungle, away from the thick
humidity and horrific stenches, away from the diseases
and the rot and the misery. Was this the man who would do this
for her, she wondered, surrendering to his touch, allowing him
to pull away her gown and gaze down at her naked, willing body,
with a combination of hunger and tenderness? Was this the man?
Her pounding heart threatened to burst as Parval's strong
hands and tender lips roamed over her body, stroking her face,
kissing her mouth with hot passion barely restrained, cupping
and massaging her breasts, stroking her nipples, then squeezing
them and licking them with a rough tongue.
"You are so beautiful, lady," he whispered. "I've loved
you since I first set eyes on you."
"Parval..."
"I never dared hope that I could make love to you, hold
this sweet naked body close to mine. I want you, my darling."
"I want you, too. Take me, please..." Xylara's voice
threatened to crack. "Any way you want, darling. Take my body
any way you like."
A different look flickered through his eyes, then -- a
look of passion and desire overriding his former tenderness.
She knew what he wanted -- it was what all men wanted.
Though she lay entirely naked, milk white skin against
the rosy silk of her bedclothes, Parval remained dressed, in his
ruffled shirt and breeches. Looking between his thighs, Xylara
saw a swelling prominence, a hardness which reflected the harsh
hunger now filling his countenance.
"Let me take you in my mouth," she whispered. "Let me put
you in me."
"Yes," he hissed. "Unlace my breeches and take me in your
mouth, my darling." The words were rushed, as desire inflamed
him.
With practiced hands, Xylara unlaced Parval's tight
breeches, then pulled them down, revealing gleaming muscular
thighs and a rock-hard penis, thick and veined, purple-headed,
hot with built-up longing.
"Suck me," Parval commanded. Such words from one whom she
loved so excited her strangely. She felt a deep wanting, to
be taken and possessed by this man, held in bondage and forced
to pleasure him. Her breath came even faster, and she felt
herself totter on the brink of orgasm just from the thought.
Her eager lips sought the great head of his swollen organ,
kissing and flicking her tongue at its opening, then tracing
the line of his glans, stiffly stroking down its back, tracing
its veins, loving its every surface, every contour, desiring
it with every fiber of her being. She stroked the proud cock with
trembling fingers, scratching lightly with long, blood-red
nails, then encircling and tugging at it.
"Suck me," Parval said. "Put that cock in your beautiful
mouth and suck it. Now."
The firm, calm voice of command dragged her steadily closer
to explosion, and she encircled the engorged, red-purple
member with pouting lips, wet with floods of saliva. He was
enormous, filling her mouth, and she felt a sudden moment of
panic as his large, strong hands laced behind her head, and
he thrust into her sliding down her throat, near to choking her.
She gagged for a moment, but he persisted, and in a moment,
the great rod slipped into her without resistance, and she pumped
and suckled at it eagerly, fingers reaching down to cradle his
testicles, and encircling his shaft tightly, stroking it hard
even as it drove in and out of her mouth.
"Yes," Parval muttered. "I love how you suck me."
Passions raced like hot metal through Xylara's veins.
"I love you," she hissed, releasing his cock, then sucking
it more. "I love your cock. I want you. I want to serve you."
She left off sucking, and tugged at his spit-slick shaft
with both hands.
"Use me," she begged. "Take me. Fuck me." Gods, how the
words excited her. "Make me your slave. I want you so, Parval.
I want your cock. I want you." She swallowed the great member
once more. "I want to be your slave."
It excited her so -- what did it all mean? Why did this
surrender to the man she loved make her clit throb so, why did
the thought of being a whore and a slave make her want to come
endlessly, and serve this man in whatever he desired?
Xylara did not know. All she knew was that she wanted to
give herself up entirely to him, to be an empty vessel to his
desire, and to completely submerge herself in the love and
control which he gave her.
She fell back onto the bed, spreading her thighs apart
for his view, pulling the pink lips of her cunt open.
"Take this," she said. "Please put your cock in me. Fuck
me like a whore, Parval."
Parval calmly removed shirt and breeches, standing naked
at the foot of the bed, gazing down on her. He resembled a
carved alabaster statue, poised and ready to take her however
he wanted, regardless of her desires or protests. It excited
her even more.
Parval walked slowly around the bed, looking down at her
with an expression that was at once tender and commanding. "Not
yet, darling," he said. "I think you need a little punishment
before you earn your reward."
Oh... Just the thought of serving this man, of feeling
the sting of his punishment, pushed Xylara over the edge, and she
felt orgasm clench her body tightly. Tremors wracked her even
as his rough hands seized her, turned her over and set her on
hands and knees before him.
"Good girl," he said. His voice was sweet, dripping with
honeyed adoration. "Stay there, and take your punishment, my
sweet little slave."
Xylara's body tensed, waiting, then pain lashed through
her as his flat hand struck her naked buttock. He drew back
and struck again, the harsh slap echoing through the room, the
pain redoubled.
As she kneeled, biting her lip, holding back her cries,
feeling hot tears well up in her eyes, Xylara realized that
pain from someone she loved was greater than any pleasure.
Again and again he struck, raining down blows, turning her
buttocks bright red, sensitizing them to the next blow, which
came even faster and harder. If she held back her cries then,
they were cries of pleasure and joy, not of pain and degradation.
At length, the blows slackened, then stopped, and Parval
stroked the hot, red buttocks softly.
"Very well, lady," he said, softly. "I think you've earned
your reward."
Xylara rolled over, spreading her legs once more, pulling
apart the pink lips, heedless of the hot moisture which now
streamed down them.
"Take me now, Parval. I belong to you. I want to serve you
every way I can. Parval, darling. I want to go away from this
place with you, leave our families behind, make a life somewhere
else, away from this gods-cursed jungle. Litharna,
perhaps, or the White Empire."
"Later, my love," Parval said. "Now it's time to give you
what you wanted so."
With that, he moved atop her, his still-stiff cock slipping
inside her seemingly of its own accord, filling her to
overflowing. None of the slaves was so huge -- he was the largest
she'd ever had, and she felt herself coming uncontrollably as
Parval thrust his enormous organ into her.
She cried out in a passion she had never before known,
coming again and again at his insistent thrusting.
"I want to come, my love," he said, with a trace of regret
in his tone which puzzled her.
"Come in my mouth," Xylara said. "Let me suck you 'til
you come."
Silently, Parval complied, standing and allowing her to
kneel before him, once more slipping his cock between her lips
and allowing her to envelop him in the hot moistness of her
mouth. She carried on as before, alternately sucking and licking,
tugging with her hands, stroking his balls, whispering
endearments as she did so.
Parval responded as before, taking her head in his hands
and thrusting into her, speeding to his own pace, using her
body, taking her as she chose. Xylara's heart soared, for she
felt fully alive and wanted for the first time in her life.
The smashing of wood and the shattering of glass broke
her fantasy into a billion shards. A dozen household guards were
in the room, swords drawn, and at their head, smirking and
strutting like an emaciated peacock in ceremonial armor, was
her brother Thorvaz.
"Caught you, sister," he said lightly as Xylara drew back
and blanched, seeking something to cover herself, to lessen
the horror and humiliation she felt.. "Consorting with the enemy.
Gods, Parval, what deviltry did the two of you plan?
Assassination? Rebellion? The destruction of our household?
My sister has become quite the schemer, hasn't she?"
"Am I free to go, Thorvaz?" Parval asked, his voice now
flat and devoid of the passion and devotion it had once held.
"I think I've paid my debt to your sister quite sufficiently."
He smiled down at Xylara, who crouched in a heap at his feet.
"I'm sorry, dearest, but I was running out of romantic things
to say to you."
Xylara gasped and felt tears well up inside her -- bitter
tears of rage and grief this time.
"Oh, do finish, Parval," Thorvaz told him. "You deserve
some satisfaction for all your work."
"My thanks, Thorvaz," Parval said, grabbing Xylara's head
once more. "It's a pity our families are such enemies."
With that, Parval began to stroke his cock, holding Xylara
firmly by the hair, until at last he came, cascading hot semen
into her face and across her trembling lips.
"Your sister is good, Thorvaz," Parval said as he dressed,
and Xylara lay, sobbing on the floor. "Perhaps you can hire her
out. Earn a little extra income."
Then he was gone, and Xylara was taken from her villa,
still naked, and in chains, her body wracked with sobs. Behind
her, as Thorvaz guided their boat down the river, Arborhall
blazed, as household troops and slaves looted and burned. Within
a month, the jungle would completely reclaim what was
once Xylara's only refuge.
"You should have stayed with Nineh and her harem," Thorvaz
told her. "At least there you did no harm. You dabbled in things
you did not understand, sister. You left me no choice
but to destroy you."
Xylara only stared sullenly at her brother, tears and
streaks of semen drying on her face, unable to clean herself
for the chains which bound her.
They took her before father, and listed her crimes.
"Conspiracy, treason, consortion and fornication with
avowed enemies of your line, concealment of funds," Thorvaz
said, unable to keep the smirk off his face. "Gods know what
else she planned, father."
Count Utharzi was now far beyond his days of glory, and
spent most of his time in bed, his body wracked and wasted.
There were those who might have claimed that his life of
wickedness and cruelty had led him to this fate, to die by
inches in endless agony, but they always did so well out of
the old count's earshot. Though frail and wasted, he still
commanded great power, and could eliminate anyone he chose with
a word.
"Daughter," he said, a trace of the old fire lingering
in his voice. "You have displeased me."
Xylara remained naked and chained, her face still streaked
and filthy, and kneeled at the foot of her father's bed.
"I am old now, daughter," Utharzi continued, "and I realize
that, perhaps, I should have loved you better when you
were younger, then you would not have turned against me so."
His eyes, sunken in his skull, but still bright, scanned the
room. Daeshi was there with Thorvaz, as was Nineh, gazing with
concern at her sister.
"I see the hand of your older siblings in this matter,
as well," said Utharzi, fixing his gaze upon Thorvaz. "Your joy
at your sister's downfall is unseemly, my son. If you are hoping
that I will disown her, exile her, or even have her slain, you
will be disappointed."
Now he looked at Xylara, and she seemed to shrink before
him. "None of this mitigates the enormity of your deeds, Xylara.
My punishment is this: from today forward, no member of
this family may see or speak to you, unless summoned here and
given leave to do so; I give you my estate, the Moonpool, as
your residence, but you may not visit or stay at any other
family holdings; finally, since men were your downfall, no man,
or male of any race or species, shall ever be allowed to lay
his hand on you ever again. You may see and speak to men, but
none may touch you, nor you them. Any man who touches you without
your consent shall be slain. Neither noble, commoner,
nor slave shall sully you with his touch. Should you ever break
my decree, all your titles and holdings will be revoked, you
will be stripped of all family protections, and sold as a slave.
This I decree, though it is with a heavy heart. Now
leave, all of you."
With that, Utharzi's guards ushered them out of the
bedchamber. Xylara was unchained, bathed, and dressed (by female
slaves -- Utharzi's decree was already in effect), then
sent to the Moonpool, where she remained, attended by slaves.
Days stretched into weeks at the Moonpool, and the weeks
into months and years. Xylara lived a life of indolence, attended
by female slaves, and free to travel and make love as
she chose, but never with a man or male of any kind. She bought
many slaves, kept them, punished them, discarded them, searching
for the happiness she had once known with Nineh, and
that she had hoped for with Parval. None helped, until Alrynna,
who loved her absolutely, and gave her whatever she wished.
She kept Alrynna with her, and even nursed her own kind of love
for the pale, dark-haired young woman. Men and males of different
species sometimes found their way into her household, to make
love to Alrynna as if she was Xylara, and to give Xylara some
taste of the fulfillment she would never know.
At length, the old Utharzi died, senile and in agony, the
spirits of those whom he had betrayed and slain tormenting him
in his final days. Perhaps it was the death of his favorite
daughter, Nyxra, who drowned while sailing, which stole the
last vestiges of the old man's will to live. To what pit of
hell he descended, none knew, but most silently hoped it was
a deep one. As for Utharzi himself, Nyxra was dead, and what
remained of his family had disappointed him; he died without
naming a successor, choosing instead to divide his family estates
between the various children, in the understanding
that the last survivor take the mantle of matriarch or patriarch.
His decree regarding Xylara remained unchanged, but
by then she had grown accustomed to her new life.
Still, the memory of her betrayal burned in Xylara's mind.
She was little better than an exile in her own land now, shunned
and cast out. It was Thorvaz, she knew. Thorvaz and
Daeshi, the hateful conspirators who wanted all the family's
power for themselves. She hated them both, and also hated Parval.
A foolish pawn, and little else, he had still played
with her, and crushed what little belief she had had in the
faithfulness of men. She longed for the day on which she would
make them all pay. Xylara still desired power, but now she
desired vengeance as well.
* * * *
Wulf
"Now you know who I am, and why I am, lion-man," Xylara
said, stretching. "I have brought you to be Alrynna's master.
You are to make love to her as you would to me."
"And you'll watch?" I asked.
"You catch on quickly. I'd heard lion-men were rather
dim."
"You'll find I'm no ordinary lion-man," I said, then after
a pause added, "Mistress."
"You're arrogant and willful, lion-man," she said. "We'll
have that worked out of you someday. In the meantime, prepare
yourself. I will summon you before the voyage is done. Be ready
for a repeat performance with Alrynna, though I will be there
as well."
[END OF PART TWO]
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Subject: Jungle Moons 3/5, Erotic Sword & Sorcery
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Jungle Moons, Part 3
[In Jungle Moons, Parts 1 and 2, Wulf the Freelance, magically
transformed into the lion-man Chuma, is sold as pleasure-slave
to Countess Xylara of Xesh. After getting a try-out from
Xylara's chief slave-girl, the submissive but oddly assertive
Alrynna, Wulf is summoned to the presence of Countess Xylara,
where he hears her tale of lesbian incest, love, and betrayal
by her own family. Now cursed to never allow a male to touch
her, Xylara lives out her excessive sex life through Alrynna,
and tells Wulf that he and the slave-woman will perform for
her soon.]
[THIS STORY IS NOT TO BE DISTRIBUTED TO INDIVIDUALS UNDER
EIGHTEEN YEARS OF AGE]
Xylara kept her promise two days later. My ogre attendants
had informed me, in between guffaws, winks and similar antics,
that the barge was due home soon. I wondered exactly what lay
in store at Xylara's estate, but what happened on the barge
proved far more than enough for my delicate sensibilities.
I was summoned and escorted in the usual manner, this time
taken to a large chamber to starboard amidships. As soon as
the door slammed and locked behind me, I took stock of my
surroundings, and immediately began to wonder if I really wanted
to be there.
It was a large room, built of light, polished wood, with
heavy beams across the ceiling and along the walls. The beams
themselves bristled with hooks and eyebolts. Hanging from the
hooks was a wide variety of interesting objects, and it should
come as absolutely no surprise to the reader that these included
whips, crops, cats, cuffs, collars, thongs, brushes,
knives, and a number of items whose exact use was a mystery
to me, although I suspected that I had a pretty good idea as to
their basic function. Miscellaneous straps and chains hung from
the ceiling, and a number of unusual items of furniture decorated
the remainder of the room. Almost everything was white, as well
-- the leather was dyed white, the metal was enameled. None of
it, I was relieved to note, was spotted with red, either.
Nearest me was a sort of low bench, equipped with a
utilitarian assortment of eyes and straps. One end was padded
like a pillow with white leather, while the other was
semi-cylindrical, crafted of narrow bamboo slats. I swallowed
heavily.
A small door at the opposite end of the room opened, and
my "owner" entered, dressed in an endearing garment crafted
of supple black leather, standing in almost blinding contrast to
her snow-white skin. Her legs were exposed, and a criss-cross
of lacings down the front, back and sides showed even greater
amounts of flesh, though nothing vital was revealed. She wore a
pair of knee-high leather boots, and her hair was done up in
a single braid, coiled about her head, and then hung down to the
middle of her back.
"Hello, Chuma," she said. "I made you a promise the last
time we talked. I'm here to deliver."
I stood impassively. As before, I was dressed only in my
loincloth, and I suspected that I wouldn't be enjoying its
company for too much longer.
She clapped her hands. "Slave!" she barked. "In here!
Now!"
The door opened once more, and Alrynna entered. This was a
somewhat different Alrynna, I had to admit, for she entered
with eyes down, moving with a slow, shuffling gait. A black
leather collar hung with a number of rings surrounded her neck,
while she bore thick cuffs, also with rings, at her wrists and
ankles. Beyond that, save for a thin gold chain around her
waist, she was completely naked. Slowly, her very manner exuding
passive obedience, she walked up to Xylara, then kneeled down,
eyes still downcast.
"I told you that you could do with this one as you wished,"
Xylara said, selecting a short black crop from the
wall, and using the tip to lift up Alrynna's delicate, pointed
chin. She still sought to avoid eye contact. "Isn't that right,
slave?"
"Yes, mistress," Alrynna said softly.
Xylara smacked the crop lightly across Alrynna's shoulders.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you, slave," she
ordered.
"Yes, mistress."
Gods... My experiences at Kashella of the Nine Whips'
temple came back to me. Under other circumstances, I might have
started to look for a suitable weapon so that I could deliver
Alrynna from servitude and heroically leap over the side with
her, but past events now suggested that she was loving every
moment of this. I stood my ground and kept silent, realizing
with growing certainty that it was arousing me, as well.
"Now," Xylara said softly, "onto the table."
"Oh, mistress!" Alrynna attempted to maintain a facade
of fearful obedience, but her enthusiasm for the work at hand
showed through nonetheless. "Have I misbehaved so? Will you
punish me?"
A brief look of annoyance flashed across Xylara's features
and she barked, "If you're fortunate. Now get on the bench!"
Without further word or protest, Alrynna positioned herself
on the leather-padded bench, face down into the leather
pillow, arms hanging over the sides, buttocks and legs draped
artfully across the smooth, semi-cylindrical end.
"She's a good slave, isn't she, Chuma?" Xylara asked,
walking slowly toward the bench, and taking her time about it.
(Personally, I thought Alrynna seemed way too enthusiastic to
really be a "slave," but my albino Xeshite mistress was in
command here, so I didn't say anything.) She still held the
crop in one hand, and lovingly caressed it as she walked toward
the supine Alrynna.
Okay, okay -- I know what you're thinking. I'm a pretty
straightforward person when it comes to sex. I enjoy the company
of a happy and enthusiastic woman (and don't even mind
if there's more than one), I have experimented with a variety of
techniques and positions, and I have experienced the company
of several different species and nationalities. On the other
hand, I have limits. I have absolutely no interest in taking
what is not freely offered (and have gone so far as to rid the
world of a couple of deviant males who did), I like my companions
to be experienced and of legal age, and I never
really liked to inflict pain (I also have never been terribly
interested in sex with my own gender -- not that I don't
acknowledge the possibility, it's just that I've never met a
man who struck my fancy in that way).
Then again, there are always exceptions. I like to pride
myself in being supportive and accommodating. If a woman wants
it from behind, I will give it to her from behind. If a woman
enjoys being licked all over, I am only too happy to oblige.
If she wants her girlfriend to join in, I am nothing short of
ecstatic. So, I suppose that it only naturally follows, if she
wants to be tied up and beaten with peacock feathers, I have
no choice but to cooperate. It just wouldn't do to have a
reputation for being insensitive to a woman's needs...
So I watched as Xylara walked slowly and appraisingly
around Alrynna, who lay face down on her leather-padded
contraption, arms and legs limp, hanging down, the white, rounded
flesh of her ass, and the downy-haired pink softness of
her cunt exposed. Xylara trailed her white riding crop across
Alrynna's buttocks, then flicked it once, connecting with the
pale flesh with a sharp snap. Alrynna squirmed alluringly, and
Xylara brought the crop down, harder this time, leaving a single
red weal.
"Like it, my pet?" Xylara asked, voice stern.
"Yes, mistress," replied Alrynna, softly.
Xylara struck again, the crop snapping down on naked flesh
still harder, eliciting a sharp cry from Alrynna.
"Say it again," Xylara demanded. "Say it like you mean
it."
"Yes, mistress," Alrynna said, slightly louder this time.
Another blow, and Alrynna's strangled cry was even more
heartfelt.
"Again! Louder!"
"Yes, mistress!" Alrynna shouted, voice midway between
a plea and a gasp of pleasure. "Yes, I like that, mistress. I
like it when you hurt me..." Her voice trailed off.
Xylara delivered one more blow (I suppose just to drive
the message home, but I'm not sure), then stopped, gently
stroking Alrynna's ass, marked now with several red weals.
At last, she spared a gaze in my direction. I still wasn't
sure whether she expected me to be on the receiving end of her
riding crop (or any of the other devices which hung from the
wall), but I had no doubt that I would find out soon.
"Like her, lion-man?" she asked, looking me up and down
like a horse she intended to buy. "Oh, I forgot -- you've already
shown us how much you like her."
Xylara returned her attention to Alrynna, who continued
to lie silently on the bench, her excitement evident only in her
hurried breathing, and the slight shine of moisture on the
H Hdistended lips of her pussy. Slowly and methodically, Xylara
attached the cuffs at Alrynna's wrists and ankles to straps
at the foot of the bench, then cinched them down, holding her
slave tightly against the leather-padded surface.
"You'd like this one, wouldn't you?" she asked. "You'd
like to fuck her, wouldn't you?"
I remained impassive. With a fierce look, she brought the
crop down on the back of Alrynna's thighs, making her cry out
and squirm again.
"Answer me, slave!" she barked, shaking the crop at me.
"You want to fuck this bitch, don't you? Answer me, or you'll
get some of this for yourself."
I grimaced. "Yes," I admitted.
"Yes, what?" she demanded, holding the crop up, as if to
strike Alrynna again.
"Yes, I'd like to fuck her," I said at last.
"And how would you like to fuck her?" Xylara's soft hands
ran up and down Alrynna's back and thighs, scoring the white
skin slightly. "Where would you like to put your cock into this
little slut?"
I was getting the idea. "Anywhere the mistress wishes,"
I replied.
This seemed to satisfy her. She turned away, leaving Alrynna
panting harder as she lay against the bench, her limbs
stretched tight and immobile. My gaze wandered back to Alrynna's
exposed ass, decorated with the evidence of Xylara's
attentions, and the quivering lips of her cunt, moist with
excitement, below.
Xylara looked back at me for a moment, noting my erect
cock, and selected a long, cylindrical object from the wall,
decorated with low bumps and irregularities. She walked back
toward Alrynna.
"Her ass, I think," Xylara said, coolly, stroking Alrynna's
pale buttocks, first with sharp-nailed fingers, then
with the dildo. "I think you should fuck her ass." She put down
the dildo, then moved back to the other end of the bench and
pulled Alrynna's head up by the hair. "You'd like that wouldn't
you?
"Yes, mistress," Alrynna breathed, and I saw the sheen
of perspiration glistening on her brow.
Xylara continued to hold Alrynna's hair, and slapped her
across the face.
"Louder, bitch!" she barked. "Tell me you'd like him to
fuck your ass."
"Yes, mistress," the slave whispered. "I want him to fuck
my ass."
"Louder!" Another slap.
"Yes, I want him to fuck my ass, mistress!" Alrynna said,
an edge of real desire in her voice.
"All the way? All the way up your ass? You want all of
his cock inside you?"
"Yes, all the way. I want him to put his cock all the way
up my ass, mistress. Please let him. Please."
Again, it seemed enough. Xylara released Alrynna's hair
and moved back to the other end of the bench. From beneath it,
she pulled a small earthenware crock, stuck in two fingers and
withdrew them, coated with a shiny substance. This, she applied
to the head of the dildo, then spread Alrynna's ass cheeks and
smeared more onto the puckered surface of her asshole.
She looked up at me as she did so. "Don't feel guilty,
lion-man," she assured me. "This bitch loves it. She loves
doing what I tell her to do, don't you, slut?"
"Yes, mistress," came the meek reply, trembling with tension
and anticipation.
Xylara slid a finger into Alrynna's asshole, and the slave's
body tensed.
"You can fuck her, lion-man," Xylara said, "but there are
rules. You're not fucking her. She's just the body. Remember,
you're really fucking me." She slid her finger in and out,
triggering another taut moan from Alrynna. "Think of how much
you'd like to fuck me, how much you'd like to have your cock
up my ass. Use her the way you'd use me. Don't look at her. Look
at me. Fuck me through her, lion-man."
With that, she began to slip the dildo into Alrynna, slowly
inserting its knobby head between her slick ass-cheeks,
then easing it in a fraction at a time. Alrynna's moans grew
in intensity, and she strained against the leather restraints
which held her.
"Like it, bitch?" Xylara demanded. "Say you like it."
"I love it, mistress," came the reply. "I love it when
you fuck me..."
Xylara slapped a buttock, hard, then drove the dildo inside
her. "The bitch loves it," she assured me. "She loves me
so much."
Given Alrynna's enthusiasm, I had a hard time doubting it.
As noted, I've never been too excited about that particular
form of lovemaking, but once more, if it was what they wanted...
Xylara alternated fucking Alrynna and slapping her ass
for several more minutes, and I noted that the slave-woman's cunt
was sopping now, juices running down the white columns of her
thighs. She rubbed heavily against the rough bamboo stroking
her clit as her mistress slid the knobby dildo in and out of
her asshole. Her cries rose in intensity, and I suspected that
she'd come at least twice so far.
At length, Xylara left off, pulling out the dildo and
dropping it to the floor. "We are ready for you, lion-man," she
said. "Put your cock inside her. Remember, that it's me you're
fucking."
With that, she stepped back, unlacing the crotch of her
white garment, pulling it up to reveal her hairless cunt framed
by milk-white flesh, and stepped onto the bench, pulling up
what appeared to be a padded backrest (hell, did the thing have
a built-in oven as well, I wondered?) as she did so, and
positioning her thighs on either side of Alrynna's black-maned
head.
"She'll lick me, now," Xylara told me. "You fuck her ass,
and she'll lick my cunt. I'll come for you, lion-man. Look at me
and fuck me like you fuck her. Do it."
I stepped forward, ready to do as asked. Alrynna's face
was busy between Xylara's thighs as I spread her cheeks apart,
and rubbed the head of my painfully erect cock at her
well-lubricated hole.
"Put it in," Xylara gasped, working her clit with her
fingers. "Fuck my asshole now."
I slid my way into Alrynna, listened to both women cry
out, felt past the initial resistance, and thrust inside.
"All the way," Xylara urged, voice fast and breathy. "Put
your cock all the way inside."
I was about half way in now, and both women urged me on.
Slowly, I thrust further, watching the heavy shaft of my cock
disappear inch by inch into Alrynna's tight asshole. In a moment,
I had penetrated all the way to the hilt, and I felt
her tighten with another orgasm. Xylara cried loudly, and I
suspected that she was coming, too.
She pulled up Alrynna's head by the hair again, and slapped
her once, twice, three times.
"Don't look at this slut!" she cried as she struck. "Don't
look at her! You're fucking me, remember! Me! Ahhhh... Suck
me more, bitch..."
Without protest, Alrynna returned to her intense cunt-licking,
and I began to fuck her asshole faster.
"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," Xylara moaned, now almost
entirely gone into incoherence. "Fuck my asshole. Put your cock
all the way up my ass..." With another deep groan, she came
once more.
Alrynna continued to hump herself against the bamboo (since
my raspy tongue seemed to drive her wild, I suspected
that the harsh surface was entirely to her liking), and her
cries built up in intensity once more.
"Scratch my ass!" Xylara demanded, still writhing in
orgasmic frenzy. "Use your beautiful claws on my ass..."
I obliged, once more careful, even in the throes of passion,
to scratch but lightly and leave only long, pink welts. Alrynna's
cries turned into screams, but these were
clearly of pleasure.
Xylara cried out amid the wrenching passion of orgasm.
"Come on me," she begged. "Come all over my ass. I want to see.
Come for me..."
That was enough for me. I pulled out of Alrynna's ass,
and stroked myself to orgasm, jetting white semen across her
heaving cheeks. Xylara cried out in pleasure, and I would swear
she came again. Overwhelmed, I slid off and collapsed on the
floor, letting my come drip down Alrynna's thighs and watching
as she brought her mistress to another orgasm before the Xeshite
called a halt.
"Oh, well done, lion-man," she sighed, and sat heavily
at the foot of the bench. Alrynna remained strapped to the bench,
still moaning and bringing herself off against the rough bamboo.
"You do fuck well."
"That," I gasped heavily, "is the nicest thing you've ever
said to me."
"Perhaps we should see how else she can serve us?"
I glanced at Alrynna's flushed face. She turned imploring
eyes at me, full of desire and unexpended energy. I realized
with an interesting mixture of lust and apprehension, that this
had only been the warm-up. Our little slave girl could apparently
go all night like a Litharnan lumberjack.
"That would be nice," I replied.
Xylara and I washed off in an adjoining chamber. As usual,
she did not touch me, though she played with herself for me
again, leaving the first stirrings of my second erection lurking
deep inside me before we returned to the main room,
where Alrynna was still bound and (apparently) waiting eagerly
for us.
"Miss me, sweet little slave?" Xylara asked, trailing her
crop across Alrynna's back and shoulders.
"Oh, yes, mistress," Alrynna breathed. "I miss you so when
you're gone."
"Miss my whip?"
"Yes, mistress."
"Miss my fingers?"
"Yes, mistress."
"Miss my tongue?"
"Oh, yes, mistress..."
" Miss my fist?"
That sent a shock through Alrynna's body, and she sighed
deeply.
"Oh, yes, mistress. I miss feeling your fist inside my
cunt. Will you put your fist in me, mistress?"
Xylara chuckled, but did not reply, and returned to me
where I stood nearby, my erection steadily growing, my mind
still trying to comprehend the weird world I'd landed in.
"Suck him, bitch," Xylara ordered. "Suck him well, and
you'll get what you want."
Alrynna looked doubtful. "Mistress, no," she said, fearfully.
"He's too big."
For a moment, I thought she might be serious, then realized
that this was all part of the act as well. Alrynna had
already sucked the hell out of me, and hadn't thought I was
too big then. After a moment of concern, I relaxed and realized
that both the women were well into their roles, and both enjoying
the hell out of this.
Xylara slapped a hand across Alrynna's ass. "Suck him,
bitch. Suck his cock and make him come in your mouth. Suck him
or you get nothing."
"Please, mistress. I don't want to. He's too big. I want
your fist in me."
"Suck that cock of his, and you'll get it, you little
slut. Otherwise, I'll give you to someone else."
"Oh, no, mistress. I want to stay with you. I'll suck his
cock for you."
"Good girl." Xylara looked at me. "She's a good little
bitch when she wants to be."
"Yes, mistress. I'm a good girl. I'll suck him for you.
Will you put your fist in me if I suck him?"
"Of course, if you're good."
"Will you?"
"Yes," Xylara said, a trace of irritation slipping into
her voice.
"Promise?"
"YES, I PROMISE!" Xylara bellowed, completely nonplused.
"Now shut up and suck him off! I swear you are the most troublesome
slave I've ever had!"
"Yes, mistress. Will you punish me for being so troublesome?"
Xylara spoke slowly and deliberately. "Shut. Up. Alrynna."
"Yes, mistress."
Xylara had me position myself on the seat in front of
Alrynna. She unfastened her slave's wrists, allowing her to
rise to her elbows, though her ankles were still shackled, her
ass still fully exposed to Xylara's tender mercies. As Xylara
stepped behind Alrynna, the slave woman fixed me with a huge-eyed
stare.
"I'll suck you for my mistress," she said, encircling my
now-erect cock, tongue flicking out to lick up and down its
shaft. "I'll make you come for her."
"You'd better, bitch," Xylara said, her mistress persona
now back in place. She'd donned a glove of what looked like
calf-skin or some other extra-thin leather, supple and shiny,
on her right hand. As I watched, she formed a fist, and fitted
it between Alrynna's thighs. "Do it right, and I'll give this
to you."
Alrynna finally took my cock in her mouth and began to
suck, sliding me in and out with feverish enthusiasm.
"How's she doing, lion-man?" Xylara asked.
"Just... fine..." I managed to grind out through clenched
teeth.
"Good. Think she deserves a reward?"
"Oh... Yes... I think... so..." Heat spread from my cock
through my belly as the sopping moistness of Alrynna's eager
lips enveloped me.
"Then I'll give it to her. Ready..."
"Mmmm, mistressssssss," breathed Alrynna, holding my cock
and licking it up and down. Behind her, Xylara tensed, then
thrust her hand into Alrynna's cunt (at least I assumed that's
what she did; I couldn't actually see it). Then the muscles
in Xylara's arm clenched, and I had a pretty good idea what she
was doing. Alrynna shrieked as Xylara's arm thrust into her,
then returned to her impassioned sucking at my cock.
"Oh, she loves it, doesn't she?" Xylara asked, more to
herself than to me or Alrynna, as she pumped her arm in and
out, with increasing force and speed. "She loves what her mistress
does to her. She loves to be tied up and whipped,
doesn't she, my sweetest little love? She loves to have her
cunt abused, doesn't she? She loves to have cocks in her mouth,
and loves the way they taste when they come all over her tongue.
She loves her mistress' fist inside her hot, tight little cunt,
doesn't she?"
As a matter of fact, she seemed to, for she sucked me with
a level of enthusiasm I'd rarely encountered before, staring
up at me with eyes full of devotion, her cheeks hollow, her body
tensing and quivering each time her mistress' fist thrust into
her cunt. Gods, where did these people come from, I wondered
idly.
I didn't have long to wonder, for Alrynna's talented mouth
had me on edge in a few moments. Behind her, Xylara continued
thrusting, and continued her narration, directed at me this
time.
"Oh, you want to come, don't you? You want to see that
sweet little face drenched with your come, don't you, you bastard?
You son of a bitch, you want to fuck her face and come
all over her. Well come now, hear me? Shoot your come all over
that bitch's face. Fuck her hard. Make her scream."
Alrynna screamed pretty well at that, and I realized that
she was coming with mind-numbing intensity. That was all it
for me as well, for I came in copious quantities (damned lion-man
physiology...), pouring semen into her mouth and all over her
face, as requested.
"That's right, lion-man," Xylara continued, still thrusting
her leather-covered fist into Alrynna's sopping,
contracting cunt. "Give the bitch all you have."
I complied, disgorging a few more squirts of come, before
I once more subsided to the floor. Gods, I thought, this is
it, lion-man or no lion-man...
Part of me was actually a bit ashamed at this point, for
playing in such a vulgar drama. On the other hand, both women
seemed to like it, for Alrynna licked up what she could, and
kept coming for another minute, while Xylara urged her on with
a combination of fist-thrusts and a non-stop stream of obscenities.
Finally, they seemed through, as well, and Xylara joined me on the
floor, stopping first to unshackle Alrynna's ankles, so that the
exhausted slave woman could lie draped and unbound across the
strange bench, breathing heavily and moaning, heedless of the white
semen which still decorated her face and shoulders.
"Well done, lion-man," Xylara sighed, lying a discreet
distance from me, and still not touching me. "Very well done."
I suppose it was best for my own health and sanity that
we made port a few days later, before Alrynna and her mistress
had a chance for another go at me. I spent the time in idle
repose, wondering if I would live out my days as a lion-man slave
to a decadent, sadistic noblewoman, doomed never to allow a male
of any species to touch her. Gods, despite the generous work
benefits, I wanted to go home.
But still I wondered -- where was home, and would I
recognize it when I got there?
We docked at Xesh, a chaotic jumble of grey and white stone,
an island midway between the sapphire-blue waters of the
Ylambian Gulf and the lush green ocean of jungle which covered
the entire subcontinent. Various villages, fortresses, estates
and other small settlements were scattered over two hundred
leagues around the city, but Xesh itself was the jewel of its
empire, a place of exquisite decadence, and elegant decay. It
was like the setting of a Third Cycle Vildrannic operetta, but
it was very, very real.
Houses, temples, warehouses, government facilities -- all
were built in an ornate, tasteless fashion, in blinding white
or deep blue. Many had obviously been added to over centuries,
with dozens of competing architectural styles. Sea monsters
and dragons fought with elaborate geometric shapes or complex
knotwork patterns in the Murvani style; bas reliefs of heroes
stood side-by-side with faded frescoes and chipped mosaics.
One structure was a stern assemblage of columns and lintels,
while the next was a multi-tiered Kaitian-style pagoda or a
Queshin revivalist fortress. Just looking at all the buildings
gave me a headache.
And that was only the beginning. The Xeshites themselves
were easy to spot -- they were the ones doing absolutely nothing.
Most were conveyed everywhere by slave bearers, and lounged on
sedans, in carriages, or even massive couches carried by
towering ogres or minotaurs. All affected a look of
extreme boredom, as if nothing could possibly stir their jaded
senses.
Xylara was an unusual Xeshite, in that she was an albino.
Most were swarthy and black-haired, though I saw a number of
blondes and redheads, and many more who had shaved their hair
or dyed it strange colors. Dress was elaborate, expensive and
impractical. Fanciful gowns in rainbow colors, revealing shifts
or bodices, impossibly wide shoulders, shoes with heels or
platforms so high that their owners would have had trouble
tottering down the street without falling over. Hair was coifed
in dozens of styles, ringleted, woven, braided, coiled, waxed,
lacquered, shaved, sculpted. Tattoos, rings in any part of the
body capable of taking them, ritualistic scarification -- it
was all here, and during my brief sojourn through the city,
I barely scratched the surface.
I attracted a good deal of attention, since apparently
no one had ever had a lion-man slave before. Plenty of other
races and species lived here as slaves, though -- most flavors of
humans, orcs, goblins, a few dwarves, a very few elves, many
throgs, ogres, minotaurs, nymen, and a handful of Kaitians,
looking sad and miserable as cats doused in water. The entire
nation was built on the labor and misery of slaves; should they
ever disappear, Xesh would be devoured by the jungle.
And the jungle was all around, at best only barely hidden
from sight. The air was hot and steamy, so thick you could cut
a piece of it and save it for later. The oppressive paw of the
jungle pressed in against Xesh's walls, infiltrating every nook
and cranny of the land and its people. Towering green stood
all around us, and stretched off into the hazy distance.
Ogres carried Mistress Xylara and her favorite concubine,
Alrynna. Beloved Chuma got to pad along behind, with the various
other human slaves, mostly female, all chained, eyes
downcast, overseen by spear-armed male guards. As we trooped
through the city, others dodged swiftly out of our way -- exiled
and disgraced, Xylara still pulled a lot of weight, by
all appearances.
We didn't waste any time in Xesh proper. Later, I decided
it was so that Xylara could minimize the chances of accidentally
making contact with a male in sight of others,
since apparently her relations with the rest of the family,
except Nineh, had gone from bad to worse. Xylara directed our
little caravan through the teeming streets, and to one of the
city gates.
Outside, the gate opened onto a great muddy clearing of
red-brown earth. Here, hired wagons and carriages were waiting.
They were drawn by enormous lizards, driven by "friendly" jarreks
(only kidding -- a "friendly" jarrek is one who waits a
few minutes before hitting you over the head with a club), and
we endured a bumpy and uncomfortable ride down slippery jungle
roads to a nearby river, where a massive barge lay moored to
a dock.
"My private barge," Xylara told me as I climbed painfully
out of the wagon. She was still on her sedan chair, held aloft
by expressionless ogres. "It will take us to the Moonpool."
"Glad to hear it," I replied, picking my way through the
mud toward the docks. "Nice of you to speak to me, mistress."
"It's not a privilege I extend to most of my slaves, Chuma,"
she said. "I usually don't bother to call them by their
names, either. You should be grateful for my attention."
"Believe me, I am," I said. "But please realize that I
deeply resent myself or anyone else being owned like a piece
of furniture. I know it's not my place as a slave to say such
things, but I really don't care whether you punish me or not.
I'll never accept being a slave, no matter how long I remain
one."
She was silent for a moment, a number of expressions chasing
each other across her milk-white face. Then she smiled
a hard smile.
"Spirit," she said. "I like it." She struck one of the
nearest ogres with a quirt. "Dock. Now."
We embarked on the barge, and the ogres poled us out into
the wide, muddy river.
Now, the jungle closed around us in earnest. Thick greenery
grew to the river's edge, often extending well out
over the banks; in places trees had fallen entirely into the
water. Birdsong and insect drone soared in a deafening chorus,
and the heat seemed to redouble, despite the vast expanse of
water all around us. I sat and panted, wondering what evil god
had conspired to deprive lion-men of sweat glands.
We neared Moonpool just as the sun began to sink in
golden-red-orange glory, a swollen mass on the horizon. Slaves
were lighting torches as we drew up to the docks, and I got
my first look at Countess Xylara's private pleasure-palace.
Located on a low hill above the river, Moonpool was a round
collection of fairy-tale towers and low domes, occupying
a gravel-covered clearing about fifty yards from the dock.
Slaves carefully tended stone enclosures containing flowers,
cacti, and succulents, running the length of the pathway up
the hill. A wrought iron gate provided access to the interior,
and I gazed about in awe as we walked in. The towers, domes and
pavilions were all crafted of some light, shell-like material,
and all glowed from inside with warm yellow or exotic blue
light. Some were dark, but were set with small chips of eish, a
rare and expensive stone which absorbed light during the day,
then shone brightly after dark. In the center of the complex,
however, was the feature which gave the estate its name.
"The Moonpool," Xylara said with a grand gesture.
A rocky, roughly circular depression lay before us, with
the estate's various structures rising above it. The depression
was filled with water, varying from a few inches in depth around
the edge, to perhaps twenty feet deep in the center.
Mage-globes set at various points beneath the surface lit the
entire pool to crystal clarity, revealing a wonderland of rocky
spires, waving water-plants, and darting schools of colorful
tropical fish, flashing like blue-red beacons in the night.
As tired, homesick and world-weary as I was, I could not help
gaping with amazement. An intangible quality surrounded the
place, welling up like an invisible fog, surrounding me and
touching forgotten parts of my heart and soul. I wasn't entirely
certain what the Moonpool made me feel, but it was
something deep and dark and strange. I looked quickly away,
lest I lose myself in its contemplation.
"It's beautiful," I said.
"Yes, isn't it?" Xylara said, though I detected a dozen
more unspoken thoughts behind the simple words. "Reach out and
feel it, Chuma. It's enchanted. Probably the most valuable of
the family's estates. Swim in the Moonpool and it takes away
weariness and sorrow. Swim on the night of a full moon and your
wounds are healed, your sicknesses cured."
"Is that how you overcame your weakness as a child?"
She nodded. "Among other things. I think that father gave
me the Moonpool to show his displeasure toward Thorvaz and
Daeshi. They were both furious that I got the estate and they
didn't, but there's nothing they can do about it."
"I see." I looked back at the Moonpool as darkness deepened;
its depths vanished in shadow, and its mysterious
depths seemed to go on forever.
Several weeks passed at the Moonpool before that sick
little psychodrama entered its next act. As a pleasure-slave, I
was pretty much allowed to do as I chose, save for when the
mistress required my "services." I explored the Moonpool estate
and the surrounding jungle -- always under the close observation
of Xylara's ogres, however. I contemplated a number
of different escape schemes, but for the moment, I was content
to stay where I was. The Moonpool was a magnificent estate,
with carefully-manicured grounds, pleasant pavilions, plush
bedrooms, paneled sitting rooms crammed with exotic and rare
books, lush dining halls where slaves served endless parades
of delicacies. Life was amazingly easy, though in the back of my
mind, the human adventurer I once was champed at the bit and
wanted to get the hell out and back into hardship, deprivation,
and deadly danger.
Not that Xylara made things any easier. Her appetites had
not declined one iota in the years since her father's decree.
If anything, they increased. She had me make love to Alrynna
in every conceivable way -- romantically, aggressively,
violently, in numerous positions gleaned from Xylara's vast
collection of sex manuals, and in every possible orifice. All
the time, Xylara watched, or participated as much as possible
without actually touching me. Sometimes she wanted me to pretend
I was making love to her, and order each act in painstaking
detail. Other times, she was content to let me romp with Alrynna
without any restrictions or oversight, while she watched and
toyed with herself.
There were other slaves, as well -- Xylara liked variety,
though Alrynna was her unquestioned favorite. She tried me out
with at least a half-dozen other females -- a sleek Kaitian
(an interesting experience, given that we were both of a feline
persuasion, even though mine was not my original body), a shy
but excitable Kybanni, a blue-skinned Danikar, a Veldt woman,
and several more.
Still, it was cavorting with Alrynna and me which seemed
to give Xylara the most pleasure. I suppose a Duvarist
sage-wizard (you know, the type who peers into your soul and
then tells you that you hated your father and wanted to have
sex with your mother, and then charges you 500 crowns) could
have analyzed her obsessions and tendencies and come up with
a picture of her twisted psyche, but the nearest Duvarist was
back in the White Empire, and I never received any formal
training.
All I knew was that she seemed to live for sex. My guess
is that it was one of the only things in her life which truly
gave her pleasure, and which she felt she had control over,
even if her precise partners were limited. She seemed to adore
large cocks, and never stopped raving about the one my n'doro
body came equipped with (I think this may have represented some
repressed longing for the treacherous Parval; either that, or
it was because she'd wanted to have sex with her father, or
so a Duvarist might have told her). Despite memories of her
capture and humiliation before her father, she loved the thought
of being come on, and had finally decided that, while
she couldn't actually touch a man, the results of a man's
orgasm didn't count. On several occasions she had Alrynna jack
me off while she kneeled a safe distance away and allowed my
hot semen to splash across her face or breasts. Other times,
she had me come on Alrynna, and licked it off.
And her strange, dominant love-play continued. Alrynna
was always the target of her attentions in this area; I was
apparently reserved as a back-up "master." It's not a role I
relished, especially, since I have always preferred sex where
everyone is equal and able to do whatever they want, but I
accepted the role with good grace, realizing that it was nothing
more than that -- a role which I played, and which both
Xylara and Alrynna went along with.
Now, you may think, "Gods, what a setup! Chief pleasure-
muffin at a hot albino babe's sex-palace! He can do
anything he wants, and gets to fuck endlessly! Lucky bastard!"
If you do, you've obviously never been a pleasure-muffin. Let
me tell you, after a couple of weeks in service, the novelty
REALLY begins to wear off.
Everyone likes Litharnan ices, right? Most people I know
would kill for a nice greenberry ice with chocolate sauce.
However, consider this -- what if that was all you could eat?
Ever. And worse, still, what if you were forced to eat them
constantly?
Obviously, after a couple of days, you'd be thoroughly
sick of greenberry ices. Then, after a couple of weeks, you'd
be sick for real. Eventually, you would probably die, since
the nutritive value of greenberry ice is about equivalent to a
piece of soap.
Well, sex isn't quite so vital to one's continued health,
but the situation was similar. For two or three weeks, my
adventures with Xylara, Alrynna, and the various nubile
slave-girls of the Moonpool were diverting and original. After
a month, they'd gotten downright dull. In another month, I
was convinced that I wouldn't care if I never saw another naked
woman again as long as I lived. Hair shirts, rope belts, monk's
habit and tonsure at an Orlanist monastery -- that was the life
for me, yes sir!
A few things kept life interesting. Delving into the minds
of Alrynna and her mistress, for one -- figuring out what went
into making someone a voluntary slave, and someone else a
mistress. For my money, sexual slavery seemed dull, while being
master or mistress seemed like an awful lot of hard work. I
obviously didn't have the right mindset for that kind of
lifestyle, I realized.
There were some surprises, however. My own assumptions
about people like Alrynna ended up challenged when she informed
me that she could stop Xylara's whippings and floggings any
time simply by asking. It was then that I realized Xylara and
Alrynna's dirty little secret -- the fact of the matter was
that Alrynna was in charge of whatever happened, and had the
control to stop or alter it at any time. Xylara, the "mistress"
was, in reality the individual being controlled. The slave
received what she wanted, that is to say, pain from someone
she loved (which, in Alrynna's mind at any rate, was mixed up
with pleasure and therefore largely indistinguishable), while the
mistress was forced to provide it, and had to stop whenever
asked.
I asked her one day while Alrynna and I relaxed beside
the Moonpool (it did, indeed have the reputed rejuvenative
powers, which Xylara found a perfect aid to our marathon sexual
encounters), "Who is the real slave here?"
Alrynna looked quizzical, sipping with slow sensuality
from a glass tumbler full of fruit juice. We were both naked,
but Alrynna wore a white leather collar decorated with silver
rings, a complement to her pale flesh.
"Why, I am," she said, all innocence and matter-of-factness.
"I am slave, and Countess Xylara is mistress. She is your
mistress, as well, though your commands supersede all save
her's."
I glared at her. "Save the speech," I told her. "Tell me
the truth, Alrynna. Your 'master' orders it."
"Hm." She made a noncommittal sound. "If I refuse, will
you punish me?"
I sighed (making a sound like a whale breaching, with my
deep throat and heavy lips). "I can't win with you, can I?"
"I guess you can't, Chuma. I love you all the same."
"I think," I replied, thoughtfully, "that you just answered
my question."
With that I rose and without another word, dove into the
Moonpool.
It was several days later that, after a surprisingly
ordinary bout of bonking (I'd ended up bringing myself to orgasm
while watching Xylara and Alrynna in a tight embrace,
licking each other's pussies and coming, repeatedly and loudly;
despite my increasingly blase attitude about our continuing
sexual adventures, the sight of those two together could still
get quite a rise out of me), Xylara dressed herself in a white
silk robe, and summoned me to a private audience chamber nearby.
She seated herself in a plush chair, long hair unbraided
and hanging around her like the wings of an angel, and bade
me sit in a similar one nearby.
"You have performed well, Chuma," she said.
I nodded. "Thanks."
"I have a job for you."
I was silent, waiting. The war of wills between us still
continued, with neither of us giving ground but, in a grudging
way, earning each other's respect. If she didn't want to break
my spirit, neither did I wish to break her's, and something
resembling affection had even begun to grow despite my best
efforts to the contrary.
"I've decided to send you out on loan to my sister, Nineh,"
she said, finally. "We've remained in contact -- father's decree
didn't cover letters, and we sometimes trade favored concubines.
It isn't permanent, so you'll be back here in a couple of weeks."
I laughed briefly. "You have confidence in me, mistress,"
I said. "How do you know I won't take the opportunity to escape?"
"I don't," she replied, looking straight at me. "I'm asking
for your word that you will not. I suspect that you are
a man of your word. Or at least a lion-man. Besides, she'll be
at Emerald Grove, so deep in the jungle you'd have no place to
run even if you did escape. Do I have your promise, then, that
you won't escape while in service to my sister?"
That took me by surprise, I must admit. It also made me
realize that if I had seriously wanted to escape over the past
few weeks, doing so would have involved only eluding a couple
of bone-brained ogres, something which was well within my
abilities. The fact is that I remained at the Moonpool because
I enjoyed it here, the enervating nature of the sex
notwithstanding.
"All right," I said. "You have my word. I don't rule it
out at some later date, however."
"I would be disappointed if you did, Chuma," Xylara said.
She clapped her hands and a pair of young slave-women appeared,
dressed in cotton shifts, and began to braid her long hair.
"You leave tomorrow. Go get some rest."
With that, I left, in the uncomfortable realization that
the next act of the drama was about to unfold.
A trio of surly Jarreks poled the barge along a sluggish
spur of the Uyla River. I remembered that Xylara's beloved
villa once occupied a hill overlooking the Uyla, but one such
rise resembled the next, and I had no idea which one it had
been. We headed down the Shivar spur in any event, moving
cautiously up the ever-narrowing stream. Two of Xylara's ogres
accompanied us, but they spent most of the time playing dice,
spending about five minutes after each roll counting the little
spots, then arguing over what number came after four. They were
here mostly for show, since I'd already promised Xylara I
wouldn't escape, or possibly to ward off any hostile Jarreks we
encountered, though this seemed an unlikely event.
At last, the spur narrowed to a shallow flow, barely wide
enough to accommodate the Jarreks' barge, and we tied up to a
stone pier. The jungle was thick here, hanging over us with
bright green menace. The birds were louder, too, and the insects
thicker. My tail twitched this way and that, reflexively swatting
flies, mosquitoes, and other pests. As I clambered off the barge,
I bade the two ogres farewell.
"Yah," grunted one. "`ey! `At were a seven!"
"Nah!" barked his companion, "`At were a nine!"
"What the 'ell's the difference?" demanded the first as
the Jarreks began to pole back down the spur.
I grunted. No escort. What the hell, I'd walk...
With that I made my sweaty, grimy way up the slope to
Emerald Grove, Countess Nineh's estate. It was a low, rambling
stone structure with numerous ornate shrubs, rock sculptures,
courtyards and fountains, with several larger buildings dimly
visible through the shadows in the trees. I approached the main
gate, and noted a single throg on guard.
"Tell you mistress that Chuma is here," I ordered as the
hairy thing cast me a baleful glance, its yellow eyes rheumy
and apathetic. It shuffled away , leaving me to wait at the
gate. At length it returned.
"She's in the main dining hall," it husked, sounding tired.
"Through the main doors and straight ahead."
I left the creature at the gate, contemplating the
unfairness of the gods which had made him an unsightly furball
and me a picture of male feline pulchritude (he didn't have to
know it was all fake), and pushed through the main doors.
The interior was dim, lit indirectly with magic lanterns
or small lamps. The floor was paved with an intricate abstract
mosaic, the walls carved in complex knotted patterns. The scent
of incense hung heavy in the air, and everywhere slaves hurried,
padding quietly along on bare feet, flitting in and
out of shadows.
The dining hall opened up before me, with a long bloodwood
table, with elaborate, high-backed chairs, and I got my first
look at the beloved and infamous Nineh.
"Welcome, Chuma." Her voice was deep and rich, echoing off
dark wood paneling and low-hanging copper lamps. "You certainly
live up to my sister's descriptions. Please forgive my rudeness
in not sending an escort -- our household is somewhat informal."
I had to admit that Xylara did her justice. The only word
which leapt to mind was "lush," and I don't mean in the alcoholic
sense. Thick ringlets of silver blonde hair tumbled over an oval,
gently sculpted face and wide blue eyes. Her lips were full and
sensual, painted bright red.
She sat in a chair as plushly padded as she was. I found
myself wondering how family rivals could ever have found her in
any way corpulent, for the body she displayed to me, well
contained within a bright red satin gown, looked like nothing
less than a fleshy wilderness where one could get lost for
weeks and never want to find the way home. Her shoulders were
round and white, skin flawless. Her breasts were soft mounTs,
vast and inviting, hanging over a rounded belly and wide, gently
flaring hips. Of course, everything from shoulders down
was concealed by the gown, but my imagination was working
overtime. After weeks of the frail Xylara and her skinny maid,
I was most assuredly in the mood for the company of a woman of
substance.
"Thank you," I said, "and if a slave may be so bold, your
ladyship looks even more bountiful and beauteous than I had
imagined, even after Countess Xylara's descriptions."
She laughed at that. "Xylara said you were insolent for a
slave. She also said I couldn't punish you, but you could make
up for your misbehavior in other ways. Have you eaten? It is
quite an honor for a slave to eat at this table, might I add."
"I have not," I said, seating myself near her. "And I do
not consider myself a slave."
Nineh sighed, shaking her head slowly. "Xylara is so lenient
with her slaves," she said, sadly. "But then, I think I
see why she likes you this way."
We ate for an hour, making small talk, with Countess Nineh
treating me like an intimate rather than a piece of property,
as nude slaves of both sexes brought each course on silver
trays. Nineh chattered incessantly about nothing -- who was
sleeping with whom, what she had done when she was eighteen,
minor changes in Xeshite fashion, how many dresses she owned, and
so on. I was able to keep up, but I could feel my mind
going as I did so. When the slaves had taken away the last
course, and she stood to fix me with a lusty gaze, it was all I
could do to keep from heaving a gigantic sigh of relief.
"So," she said, "you know why you're here, lion-man. Perhaps
you can demonstrate your skill with that enormous cock
that Xylara keeps mentioning in her letters."
If I were human, I'd have raised my eyebrows. As it was, I
twitched my ears and made a rumbling sound.
"It's nice to be noticed," I said. "And I'm happy to
demonstrate if the mistress wishes."
"Oh, my," Nineh said. "You may be insolent in some things,
lion-man, but you're obedient where it counts. Go clean up
first. I'll have the slaves draw you a bath, then I'll have
them show you to the Aquamarine Chamber. That's where I break
in all my stallions."
Gods, but her sense of the dramatic was a bit much, I
thought, as a young man led me to the bath chamber, where I
soaked for a half hour, got out, dried and combed myself (a
number of slaves wanted to do it for me, but I was afraid they'd
try to braid ribbons into my mane or something), and
followed my slave-guide down several twisting corridors, past
courtyards and gardens, through spacious hallways and atria,
stopping at last to the arched entrance to a round, vaulted
chamber, all painted -- not surprisingly -- aquamarine. The
slave scuttled off at that, apparently not about to disturb the
mistress at work. Oh, yes, I hadn't bothered to dress. I hadn't
had a lot of clothing to begin with, and I suspected Nineh
would have me out of them in a trice no matter what happened. I
stepped naked into the Aquamarine Chamber.
Welcome, I thought, to your doom...
[END OF PART THREE]
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Jungle Moons, Part 4
[In Parts 1-3 of Jungle Moons, Wulf the Freelance, now
in the ensorcelled form of Chuma the lion-man, has been
sold as a slave to the decadent Countess Xylara, and engaged
in numerous unlikely couplings with the Countess and her
favorite sex-kitten slave, Alrynna. Wulf has now been sent
"on loan" to Xylara's beloved, and equally decadent sister,
Nineh.]
[THIS STORY IS NOT TO BE DISTRIBUTED TO INDIVIDUALS UNDER
EIGHTEEN YEARS OF AGE]
Nineh lay like a princess in the center of the room, which
was entirely padded and upholstered, strewn with cushions and
pillows, and hung with yards of deep blue and purple silk. It
was brightly lit -- so brightly, in fact, that I suspected
sorcery, but didn't bother to check for certain, so intent
was I upon the luxuriant form of my new -- if temporary --
mistress.
She was naked save for a single string of pearls around
her neck, and a silver anklet set with a small bell. Clothed
she had been striking, but now she was nothing short of ethereal,
looking for all the world like some corrupt and decadent foreign
love goddess come to earth to teach man the
lost secrets of sexual ecstasy.
Her silver-blonde hair cascaded down over creamy shoulders,
only partially obscuring the rich fullness of her breasts, each
topped with a wide, pink nipple, seemingly covering a full third
of each. Her belly was expansive and cushiony, butnot grossly so
-- it and her wide but aesthetic thighs seemed entirely suited to
the lavish opulence of the Countess' body. All was pale,
alabaster white, unmarred by blemish, freckle, birthmark, or any
imperfection. It was as if she was a warm, living statue, carved
from a single block of perfect ivory.
"You're beautiful, your ladyship," I said (not certain
whether this was the proper form of address).
"Thank you," she said. "And you are beautiful, too,
lion-man. I'm glad that I still have such an effect on males,
and that you appreciate me even after the fleshly pleasures of
my sister and her slaves."'
She certainly did have an effect, for my erection sprang
rapidly to prominence, rapidly reaching the point where I felt
as if I had a third forearm projecting from my groin (no, I
wasn't quite that big, but it certainly seemed like it). Nineh
saw it and her eyes widened.
"My, my, Xylara doesn't exaggerate," she said in mock-awe.
"So big, my dear creature... Bigger than Gray, even. Poor,
dear, Gray. Such a pity he didn't check the river for
dragon-lizards before crossing..."
She seemed lost in thought for a moment, then at last laid
back, legs slightly apart, and stared at me with wicked eyes,
crooking her finger and beckoning.
"I'll bet you don't think I can get that entire cock in my
mouth," she whispered. "I'll just bet you don't."
I didn't have the heart to tell her that Alrynna had managed
it several times, but only approached her, proffering
the object in question for her closer inspection.
"Oh, yes..." she seemed lost in admiration, staring closely
at my cock, now getting even stiffer. She touched it
lightly, running her fingers up and down its length.
"So hard, too," she said. "Oh, I imagine you're carrying
quite a load in that, aren't you?"
My problem is that I simply don't know how to respond to
comments like that. I remained silent, marveling at how silly
she sounded.
She took the lead, and a moment later, I was lying on my
back, with Nineh between my legs, worshipping my cock with a
feverish intensity.
"Oh, my." She stroked with both hands, then ran her soft,
tongue up and down it, leaving a slick trail behind. "It's so
beautiful."
I was almost embarrassed at the attention, but decided not
to say anything, simply abandoning myself to the sensation of
her light fingers and hungry mouth. Her lips grazed my hot
flesh, then gently kissed my cock's swollen tip.
"It's so beautiful," she repeated, softly. "It's the biggest
I've ever seen..."
From what I'd heard of Nineh's history, I strongly doubted
whether that was the truth, but I suppose it's the sort of
thing that most men love to hear (I'd always been of the strong
opinion that it wasn't the size of the scimitar that mattered,
but rather how well one cut with it, but that's as maybe).
Still purring endearments, she fitted her mouth around my
cock and slowly slid it in, slid it out, then swallowed again,
each time a little bit more vanishing between her bright red
lips. She took more time than Alrynna, slowly savoring what
Xylara's slave had eagerly devoured -- it wasn't better or
worse, but it was certainly different.
Normally, I wouldn't say that there was much in cocksucking
for the average woman, but I've run into enough
women who enjoyed it to doubt that conclusion. I think that
most women are naturally empathic, and feed off the pleasure
they give. This certainly seemed to excite Nineh, who alternated
swallowing my prick, then flicking her tongue across
its head and down its length, spreading hot saliva as she did
so.
While Alrynna favored racing to the top and pushing her
victims off the cliff, Nineh built slowly, making her way to
the peak slowly, stopping to watch the scenery as she did so.
Her ministrations sent me into a haze of heart-pounding
excitement, building slowly toward release, then letting me
down slowly. I felt myself clenching a nearby cushion, claws
involuntarily unsheathing, scratching deep rents in the fabric.
Then she hauled herself up and thrust my slick shaft between
the pillowed mounds of her breasts, still moaning incoherently.
As the hot softness enveloped me, my own meaningless growls
escaped my throat, sensation washing over me in
steadily-increasing waves. She breast-fucked me for several
minutes, leaving off occasionally to tug on my shaft, flick
her tongue along it and mutter quiet endearments.
"You're so big," she whispered. "I want that in my cunt so
badly... I want you to fuck me with it..."
She didn't oblige herself in this request for another few
minutes, bringing me along, squeezing me between her breasts,
toying with her own nipples, lapping at my cockhead, until she
finally fell onto her back, spreading her legs apart, revealing
the soft gold of her cunt-hair and the rich pinkness beneath.
"Fuck me," she hissed. "Oh, please, put that cock in me.
I've never had such a big cock in me before... I want it..."
With urgings like that I didn't have to consider her request
for long, and so positioned myself atop her, cockhead
resting at the portals of her pink, fleshly depths. I could
feel the heat rising off her; I was damned hot, too, but like
all other lion-men, I had to work it off by panting. It only
added to her excitement, and she smothered my black muzzle with
wet kisses, crying out impassioned exhortations.
"Put it in, Chuma... Put it all the way in..."
Well, I figured if she took her time with me, I'd return
the favor. Besides, I didn't want to hurt her...
I slowly pushed past the opening of her cunt, feeling rich
moist flesh open before me, a warm and welcoming hotness urging
me to thrust deeper.
"OH!" She cried. "OH, YES!" She licked my face frantically,
then fell back, surrendering her body to the insistent thrusting
of my cock, licking her lips, spittle streaming uncontrollably
from a corner of her lips.
Slowly, slowly, her cunt opened for my cock, deeper and
deeper, taking its enormous length up to the hilt. She was
soaking, so my second thrust went faster and easier, as did my
third, fourth, and the subsequent two or three hundred.
Nineh wailed at my continued thrusts, gripping a pillow,
sharp painted nails digging furrows as my own claws had a few
minutes before.
I thrust faster, and she caressed her own breasts, squeezing
nipples between bright red fingernails.
"Oh, oh, oh, oh!" (Her dialog was a bit repetitive, but
she didn't seem too worried about it.)
I reached down and held my cock steady as it thrust in and
out; she helped, spreading her pink cuntlips, toying with her
clit, which now swelled alarmingly, nearly the size of her own
small finger.
"Oooh, Oooh. Aah, aah." Part of me felt that she needed
more varied cries of passion, but I was one to talk, since most
of my noises had been incoherent grunts and growls.
Her cries rose to a shriek, and she bucked and heaved,
breasts bouncing hard, belly heaving, cunt contracting. She
came hard, and very loud.
I wasn't about to finish, mind you. I pumped her to a
second, then third, orgasm, then pulled out, moving astride
her, pillowed by her massive, undulating breasts, grabbed her
hands and placed them on my cock (there was more than enough
room for both of them). Taking my lead, she pumped at the great
organ, still slick with her spit and cunt-juice, pulling hard.
My own groans grew in intensity, then she opened her mouth,
extending her tongue beneath the head of my cock.
"I want you to come," she gasped. "I want you to come
now..."
That ended the matter with great finality, and I unleashed
a torrent of white come across her tongue and lips. She took
it, grinning delightedly, rubbing my long and now somewhat
flexible cock across her cheeks, smearing semen all over her
face and shoulders.
"It's beautiful," she sighed. "It's so beautiful."
"So," I replied, panting and falling like a redwood, "are
you, dearest Countess. So are you."
That wasn't the end of matters, not hardly. After a brief
respite, Nineh asked me if my recuperative powers were as amazing
as Xylara had said in her letter. Since I was getting hard again,
there was no way I could deny it, so she responded by summoning
two more male slaves, who began to take her with practiced ease.
I played along, and we ended matters with each of us in one of
her major orifices, sending her over the brink into a dozen more
orgasms or so before coming violently ourselves. Overwhelmed,
Nineh dismissed the two male slaves (never did catch their names)
before curling up against me and dropping into a deep sleep,
where I soon joined her.
* * * *
Dawn rose pink and gold over the jungle, though only a bit
of it managed to filter through the thick vegetation. I
breakfasted with Nineh in a private salon overlooking a round
courtyard, bright with flowers and green with carefully-manicured
shrubs. A pair of slaves tended the plants, carefully snipping,
pruning and weeding as we watched.
Nineh probably came by her lush physiology honestly, but I
suspected that her diet didn't help matters. Breakfast was a
wilderness of rich foods, from scrambled ostrich eggs, buttered
biscuits, thick gravy, mounds of crisp bacon, pancakes, and a
few jungle fruits (thrown in, I imagine, simply for color). She
ate ravenously, and after the previous day's exertions, I did
the same. I found myself thinking that if she needed to eat so
much to maintain her luxuriant body, I wasn't about to stop
her. Epicurianism seemed to be the rule in Xesh, rather than
the exception.
"Ahhhh," she sighed, letting the fruit from a red-orange
fruit I couldn't immediately identify dribble down her chin (to
be sopped up by a nearby slave -- gods, these people were
excessive...). "You are a marvel, Chuma. You certainly live up
to Xylara's descriptions... I would try to buy you from her,
but I doubt whether she'd sell. Believe me, I could provide you
with quite a life here, lion-man."
And, I thought, after a few months of life with Nineh I'd
be one butterball of a lion-man. Of course, Nineh would probably
end up working all the rich food off me in any event, much like
her dear sister had.
"I don't know if I'd be a satisfactory slave, Countess," I
said. "I tend to be a bit overly familiar and don't act with
the proper respect. You'd probably have to beat me to keep me
in line, but that would only make things worse."
She laughed. "Does my sister beat you, lion-man? I know
she enjoys inflicting pain."
I shook my head, shedding a bit of hair onto her eggs,
which she daintily picked away. "Only on the willing," I replied.
"I think she likes to watch me be master to her female
slaves."
"Oh, dearest Xylara... Getting around father's decree any
way she can, is she? I love her so. Damn that father of mine
and his stupid orders! By all the gods, if I were in charge of
this cursed family I'd lift his decree soon enough!"
"You miss her?" I was actually surprised that the decadent
Nineh had any place in her sex-besotted he