The Empress' New Clothes Read online

  “Sheathe your claws, sister.” Dak grinned, an engaging dimple popping out. “But aye, the more I think on it, the more convinced I become of it.”

  Kyra jumped up and down, her breasts jiggling with her excitement. “That would make Geris a queen, wouldn’t it?”

  “Aye.” Dak searched Kyra’s eyes as if looking for answers. “Speaking of titles, I am a king and therefore do have a colony I must return to the soonest. So if I go, I needs go anon, sister. What think you of it?”

  Kyra blew out a breath, mulling it over. “Would you force her to come here if she turned out not to be your Sacred Mate after all?”

  “Nay. I would give the wench a choice if she didn’t belong to me, but if she is mine…” Dak slashed his hand through the air, indicating Geris’s free will would be nonexistent.

  “I see.” Kyra released the hold she had on his arms and glanced around the atrium, absently surveying the bounty of plants. She considered how much a part of her Zor was since the joining, how lonely she knew she’d be without him, how melancholy she grew with even a few hours separation from him. This was what Sacred Mates were to each other he had said.

  Kyra’s mind was made up. “Then go to Geris. See if she’s yours.” She whirled around, shaking a confrontational finger at Dak. “But if she’s not, you give her a choice!”

  * * * * *

  The troop of traveling performers that specialized in the erotic arts put in an appearance at the palace that moon-rising. The theatre in which the buxom wenches were to perform was packed full of lusty warriors almost a full two hours before the show was scheduled to begin.

  Up above in the balconies, the individual boxes were filled with the highest ranking men of Tryston, lesser kings and high lords. Unlike below where there were only chairs for resting on, the private boxes each contained a mammoth bed, where the warriors could watch the performers at their leisure, taking their own pleasures when the mood struck.

  As Kyra walked into her box with Zor, she immediately noticed that the private boxes weren’t exactly private. The only partition that separated one from the next was a thin jewel-like rope.

  Her attention was then snagged by the warrior in the box next to theirs. He was obviously not mated, for there were ten bound servants in his bed, kissing and fondling him all over, including the infamous Myn, who was currently suckling his penis.

  Though his eyes were closed, the warrior’s features could only be described as harsh. His hair was jet black like Zor’s, his skin the deep tan of Tryston men, and his height looked to be on par with her husband’s as well. A single jagged scar was slashed across his right cheek, giving him an even more barbaric appearance than Zor. The man gave her the shivers.

  “Ah Myn,” the warrior praised gruffly, sucking in his breath, “I see you have not lost your skill whilst I was away. Gret, suckle from my man sac whilst Myn attends to my staff.” Without opening his eyes, he turned his head and curled his tongue around the proffered nipple of another servant.

  When the warrior climaxed a minute later, Kyra was disconcerted to realize that she was immensely turned on. Zor was right. She really did like to watch.

  “See something you like?” Zor whispered provocatively in her ear as he came up behind her.

  Kyra smiled slowly, still watching the scene. A servant’s bountiful breasts were covering the warrior’s face, but as Myn stood up to impale herself on his shaft, she could see that he was already fully erect again. “You’re right,” she admitted in low tones, “I’m a pervert.”

  Zor chuckled softly. “I never said that, you said that, my hearts. ‘Tis natural to enjoy watching do you ask me.”

  Myn’s huge breasts bobbed up and down as she rode the warrior, which Kyra hated to admit, she did with an enviable expertise. Her moaning picked up as her pace grew faster and more frenzied. This was a woman who clearly knew how to give pleasure.

  Zor chuckled as he summoned Kyra’s qi’ka to the floor. “Yes, pani, Myn is an excellent fuck, but not nearly as good as you.” He reached around her body and slid the fingers of one hand through her pelt of intimate hair. “You are wet with need, wee one. Let us take to our own bed.”

  Kyra turned around in Zor’s embrace and held up her arms to be lifted. He groaned, obliging her at once. Their tongues met as Zor kneaded Kyra’s buttocks, moaning into her mouth as they tasted each other. He had missed touching her body so much whilst at training today.

  Music began to play, indicating that the show would soon begin. Zor fell onto the bed with Kyra in his arms, then broke off the kiss. “Lie down facing the stage so you miss out on nothing, nee’ka. I will lie behind you.”

  “Okay.” Kyra turned onto her side, reclining on an elbow. She sucked in her breath when Zor’s long, thick penis entered her from behind. “Mmm. That feels wonderful,” she admitted, gasping. “Would you roll my nipples between your fingers?” she asked provocatively.

  “Lusty wench,” Zor teased. He drew Kyra up against him in such a way that allowed him to slip his left arm under her, giving that hand access to her left nipple. His other hand reached over the top of Kyra, resting comfortably while he gave her right nipple attention. “Better?” he breathed into her ear. He swirled his tongue around the whorl until she shivered.

  “Y-Yes.” Kyra rotated her hips, impaling then re-impaling herself slowly on his cock. Now it was Zor who was sucking in his breath. “Do you like that?”

  “Mmm Kyra. Aye, pani.” Zor closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensations his nee’ka’s cunt was gifting him with. When she thrust back, then rotated her hips in a grinding motion, he groaned. “Ah Kyra. Give me more of that sweet channel, love. Take all of me.”

  “Zor.” Kyra’s climax was swift. She let the feelings overpower her, making no attempts to stifle her moans of ecstasy. “Zor,” she whimpered.

  His thrusts became harder, faster. “Give me more, nee’ka. I command more from the body that belongs to me.” He rotated his hips and pounded harder. She moaned louder. “Would you deny me?”

  “N-No.” Kyra met his thrusts with wicked enthusiasm. Knowing that those in the boxes near them could see everything, hear her moans, was an added aphrodisiac. She broke apart, coming violently. “Harder,” she cried, thrashing against him madly. “I need more.”

  “Do you deserve more reward?” Zor asked as he thrust into her faster and harder, pinching her nipples. “Have you sought to pleasure me in all that you do today?” He shifted his hips and ground into her, eliciting another groan.

  “Yes—oh god.” Kyra bucked up against him, purposefully contracting her vaginal muscles while she gluttonously accepted the fucking he gave her. Her husband’s roar told her he liked what she was doing. “Make the stones in my necklace pulse,” she begged him frantically, “please.”

  “You are greedy for my life-force?” Zor inquired through clenched teeth, shifting his hips and thrusting rapidly.

  When Kyra came apart and climaxed again, he could take no more. “Your pleasure is mine, nee’ka.” With one last thrust, he spurted his seed deep inside of her.

  The bridal necklace pulsed.

  Kyra screamed.

  Zor threw his head back and roared.

  Wave after deliciously peaking wave coursed through their bodies, binding them further, bonding them forever in a way human words could never explain.

  The lights in the theater slowly dimmed and spotlights shone onto the various stages. Zor licked Kyra’s ear as the intensity of the waves gently ebbed. “Ah nee’ka. Such pleasure you give to me,” he admitted in a thick whisper.

  At Kyra’s contented sigh, he sat up, careful not to remove his cock from her body, and placed her between his legs—still impaled—her back against his chest. “Let us watch the show.”

  “Yes.” Kyra reached up behind her and ran a hand over his jaw.

  Zor nuzzled it, then kissed her palm before releasing it. “I’ve a need of something soft to lean against. Would you mind greatly did I call for a servant to pillow m
e?”

  “No,” she admitted truthfully, “not at all.”

  A few minutes later, the show began and Zor had his pillow. The bound servant massaged his massive shoulders as he lay his head back on her huge silken breasts. Kyra leaned back into the fold of Zor’s embrace, his penis fully embedded within her. “Is this too much weight for Leha to bear?” Kyra asked.

  “Nay, pani. I am careful not to hurt her.”

  Appeased, Kyra turned her attention to the performers taking the stage. She could scarcely wait to see just what a performance of the erotic arts entailed.

  * * * * *

  Cam shuffled back to his private quarters, deciding he’d rather not gaze upon the performers when he knew he’d never get to sample from their charms. ‘Twas best not to get himself worked up when he had no means for working the lust out of his system, he reminded himself. Indeed, after the High Queen’s consummation feast, he had sustained an aching erection for the better part of two days.

  Cam’s step faltered as he rounded the corridor, surprised as he was to find a bound servant slipping from his chamber. “What do you here?” he asked quizzically, more out of curiosity than concern. No bound servant would have the audacity to steal from a warrior, after all.

  The servant bowed, then straightened, displaying her ample breasts proudly. “I was sent from the High Queen to deliver a gift to your rooms. Since you were not here, a guardsman let me in.” She smiled, gesturing toward the chamber door. “The High Queen wished for me to convey her regards and tell you the gift is yours to keep.”

  Cam arched a brow, having no idea what one such as Her Majesty could wish to give to him. “I thank you then.”

  “Enjoy.” The servant smiled flirtatiously, then turned on her heel and sauntered away.

  Cam watched her leave, enjoying the sight of her well-rounded backside as it swayed beneath the transparent qi’ka. Shaking his head to clear it, he walked through the door of his suite and closed it securely behind him. He looked high and low for this mysterious gift, but saw nothing. Shrugging mentally, he divested himself of his warrior’s garb whilst reminding himself to ask the High Queen what she had thought to gift him with on the morrow.

  Naked, Cam padded into his bedchamber and plopped down wearily onto the raised bed. He flipped onto his backside, drew his hands up behind his neck to pillow it, and closed his eyes.

  Somebody began to caress his penis.

  Cam’s eyes flew open in surprise.

  Sitting on her knees next to him, was an amazingly beautiful Kefa with sparkling blue skin and breasts so large they lay fully against her almost all the way to her navel. His erection was rigid and instantaneous. The Kefa emitted a small mewling sound, pleased by his body’s response. “Who are you?” he asked hoarsely.

  The Kefa handed him a note, then bent her head and took his cock into her mouth. Cam sucked in a breath through his teeth and ripped opened the piece of parchment that boasted the High Queen’s feminine scrawl.

  This is Muta. Her nickname is the suckler. Enjoy.

  Cam lay the note reverently on the bed as he gazed down at Muta, watching as his large cock disappeared into her voracious mouth. “By the sands,” he muttered through clenched teeth, as the Kefa performed on him in a way he hadn’t known possible.

  Over the course of the next several hours, Cam came to understand just how Muta had acquired her nickname. Whereas most Kefas would quit the room after bringing the master to peak, a warrior’s life-force only seemed to elicit the slave to a heightened desire to suckle.

  Two hours later, Cam realized he hadn’t yet stuck his rod in Muta’s channel. He doubted he would this night, but smiled to himself, knowing she was his and could therefore sample that part of her charm on the next moon-rising, or whenever he chose to do so.

  Seven hours and ten climaxes later, Cam began to wonder if ‘twas possible to die of Muta’s abilities. Never had he been given so thorough a pleasuring. He allowed her to suckle him to peak one last time, then bade her to pillow him whilst he slept.

  Cam snuggled up against Muta’s breasts, sucking from a plump blue nipple as he fell into the most sated sleep of his life. He smiled, his thoughts turning to Kyra.

  Long live the High Queen.

  Chapter 16

  When Kyra came down to breakfast the following morning, she was to learn that the warrior whose box had been adjacent to her and Zor’s last night was none other than Kil, second oldest of the Q’an Tal ruling family.

  The two brothers were hugging each other, pounding on each other’s backs affectionately, when Kyra first entered the great hall. “Dak will be sorry he missed you,” Zor exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear.

  “And what of Rem?” Kil asked, his glowing blue eyes so much like Zor’s.

  “Bah. He is forever on Sypar, where his she-bitch of a nee’ka has bade him to stay.”

  Kil snorted, a gesture that softened his grim features somewhat. “You flatter her with such undeserved praise.”

  The clicking of Kyra’s sandals against the black crystal floor caught Zor’s attention. He spun around, smiling upon seeing her, his eyes devouring her body which was clothed today of a transparent blue qi’ka. “Nee’ka, come.” He motioned with his hand for her to join them. “Meet my brother, Kil.”

  Kyra took a deep breath to steady herself, then strolled up to where the two giants stood. Kil took his time studying her form, his eyes moving over every inch of her body, lingering at her most intimate parts. She pretended not to notice. “Hello. My name is Kyra.” She smiled up to him, even though his eyes were still perusing her body.

  Kil eventually brought his gaze up to meet Kyra’s eyes. He inclined his head, but didn’t return her smile. She sensed that smiling was something he didn’t do much of. “I remember seeing you last night in the box next to mine. I am Kil.”

  “Kil has traveled here from Tron where he has been busy putting down an insurrection,” Zor explained to Kyra, reaching down to brush the pad of his thumb over one of her nipples. “He is sore tired I would imagine, so we will dine with him in privacy. Can you ask the servants to send a repast up to our suites, my hearts?”

  “Of course.” Kyra nodded, grateful to have an excuse to get away from Kil’s unnerving presence, if even for a little while. She smiled graciously at the men, then turned on her heel and left.

  “She is beautiful,” Kil admitted. “Even more so now that I can see her in the harsh light of day.”

  “Aye,” Zor boasted proudly, “that she is.” He clapped his brother on the back. “I take it you would have no objections to honoring your duty were something ever to happen to me?”

  “Nay, I would have no objections,” Kil admitted without a qualm, “yet do I not care to think on something so bad as that, jest or no.”

  “I am sorry.” Zor felt immediately contrite. “I forget you are just in from seeing much death. Forgive me, brother.”

  “’Tis naught to forgive.” Kil thumped him on the back, hugging him again. “’Tis naught to forgive.”

  * * * * *

  Kyra learned a lot about Trystonni culture over the private breakfast in their rooms, much of it shocking, leaving her numbed through and through. Due to their laws of succession, for instance, Kyra was supposed to regard Kil as a sort of lesser husband. They weren’t supposed to have sexual intercourse, but because she would be given to Kil in marriage if Zor was to die—a thought that terrified her—she was expected to have many of the same intimacies with him that until now she had shared only with Zor.

  Her qi’ka was removed while in Kil’s presence, an event she was told would happen every time they were alone, whether or not Zor was present. Kyra had eaten naked with Jik and Tia in their bedroom before, but that had been as a part of bathing, so hadn’t seemed too unusual. This felt unusual. This felt like what it was—Tryston law’s way of establishing another male’s dominance over her.

  Kyra was also expected to bathe with Kil per his request…yet another intimacy given to
a male without her consent.

  She also discovered what gentling was. Kil and Kyra were to be locked away in the bedchamber together, during which time Kil was required by the laws of succession to bring her to orgasm until she no longer feared him or his touch, thus “gentling” her. This relationship was established as more of a symbol than anything.

  Kyra was furious with Zor for not preparing her for so shocking an event. She was also more than a little terrified. Kil’s countenance was so severe as to send chill bumps coursing down her spine. She couldn’t imagine him being very kind toward her.

  There weren’t very many positive aspects to this frightening situation, so far as Kyra could see, but a few nevertheless existed. The first was that, during this gentling, Kil wasn’t allowed to do anything with her intimate parts besides touch them. In other words, the law permitted him to do anything he wanted with his hands while he gentled her, but his tongue and penis were out.

  The second good aspect was that there was a hypothetical end to the situation in sight: once she had been appropriately “gentled”, Kil could never gentle her again. She was still required to shed her qi’ka when alone with him, and bathe with him upon request, but that was the extent of his privileges once this unbelievably bizarre ritual was done with.

  The final positive aspect was that Kil would no longer be given any of the rights of a lesser husband, except for the removal of her qi’ka, once Kyra gave birth to Zor’s heir. As a result of all she’d learned in the past hour, childbearing had flown to the top of her list of things it was time to consider doing.

  When Zor had stood up to quit the chamber using the excuse that he needed to train with his men, Kyra had stood up as well, desperate to leave with him. “Nay,” he had whispered in gentle tones, “you must become acquainted with my current heir, nee’ka.”

  “But Zor—”

  “Nay, little one.” He had admonished her with a shake of his head. “’Tis all right. He will not harm you. But you must be gentled to his touch, lest something happens to me and I can care for you no longer. I would not leave you terrified of the fates.”