No Mercy - Book 2: Trek Mi Q'an Series Page 7

  Kyra grinned back, her hands falling over her head to rest while Ari massaged her breasts and nipples. She sighed in satisfaction, a smile of contented bliss enveloping her face.

  Eighteen Yessat years ago Kyra had often times found herself wondering why it was that Trystonni females remained loyal to their friends. Save a few bad seeds scattered about here and there, there was never the cattiness or back-stabbing that could be found amongst earthling females.

  A few years later the Empress had made the realization on her own concerning why Trystonni women were so different from the females found back on earth. The women of this planet were, to put it bluntly, too busy peaking together to give credence to trivial things like cattiness. What started out in baths with Kefas soon evolved into lustier sport.

  “I wouldn’t bet on that,” Kyra grinned, her thighs automatically parting when she felt Ari reach down to stroke her clit, “you have a pretty talented tongue.”

  The Chief Priestess chuckled as she rubbed the Empress’ clit in a slow circular motion. “Tell me what troubles you, my friend.”

  Kyra sighed resignedly, realizing it was time to fess up. She met Ari’s eyes as the Chief Priestess stroked her into arousal. “It’s Jor, my son.” She took a deep breath. “Try as I might I can’t seem to warm up to the idea of him being given a harem at the age of thirteen.”

  “Ah,” Ari murmured, understanding her friend’s position for they’d been over this ground before. “I should hope that by now you’ve come to realize that a Trystonni at thirteen is not the same as an earthling at thirteen.”

  “Yes but—”

  “Aye but nothing.” Ari shook her head slightly. “’Tis true that female children are not women full grown at thirteen, but ‘tis not the way of it for a male. At thirteen a Trystonni male is a man, his thought processes as complex as any other adult’s, his age on your earth over one hundred years old.”

  Kyra’s lips pinched together. “I don’t get it. Why would a male child evolve more rapidly than a female child?”

  Ari shrugged. “Nature deemed it necessary that warriors might defend the women of their line from a young age.” She looked at her pointedly. “You have witnessed over the Yessat years the carnage that has been a direct result of the insurrectionists. Can you imagine what would have become of our women had we no warriors for protection?”

  Kyra conceded to that. “True.” She chuckled self-depreciatingly. “But I’m still having a difficult time accepting the fact that my baby boy will be a full-grown man within the month.”

  Ari smiled as she rubbed the Empress’ clit. “I think all manis feel the same. However,” she said determinedly, “you must realize that in this instance your Sacred Mate has the right of it. Jor has needs that must be seen to.”

  Kyra sighed but said nothing.

  Ari plowed onwards. “Already the High King is being advised by lesser priestesses.”

  Kyra arched one fire-berry brow. “Advised?”

  “Sucked off,” the Chief Priestess clarified.

  “I was afraid of that.”

  Ari giggled. “Would you have your poor son die of a bursting man sac?”

  Kyra groaned, the mental image as unpleasant as the idea of Jor being advised.

  “’Tis just a suckling the lusty High King gets now,” Ari assured her, “no wench shall mount him till the moon-rising of his thirteenth Yessat year.”

  “I just hope I can reconcile myself to this by the time that auspicious day rolls around,” she said dryly.

  “You will,” Ari said firmly. “Over the course of the next few weeks you will take notice of rapid evolvements in Jor’s thought processes and body. His height will spurt another six inches or so, his body will become more heavily muscled, and on the moon-rising of his birthday you will harbor no doubts but that your son is a warrior full grown.”

  Kyra nodded, hoping it would be as her good friend had said. Resigning herself to the inevitable, she brushed the worries from her mind and concentrated on the orgasm fast approaching.

  Chapter 11

  When yet another relentless orgasm tore through her belly, Giselle didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The group had been trekking for over four hours and according to Death they were very close to the holo-port.

  Throughout the entire four hour journey through the red mist and black smoke, Giselle had been up in her papoose, impaled on her husband’s shaft. Rem had made it very clear with a bit of growling and eye color shifting that it was no longer acceptable for her body to be disjoined from his so long as it was possible to couple.

  And so she had complied, not wanting to cause him any emotional anguish, especially considering the fact that he needed to stay calm and alert in case any surprises should befall their group of seven.

  Every step Rem took, however, was maddening in the extreme. The impalements were hard and managed to hit the most sensitive spot within her quivering vagina every time without fail. She kept coming and coming and every few times that she burst Rem would join her in orgasm, which only caused her bridal necklace to pulse and her orgasms to become so intense that the pleasure bordered on the painful.

  If multiple erections were any indication, then the warriors walking beside them certainly seemed to appreciate the never-ending show. Their eyes continually flicked to Giselle’s migi-candy breasts, her freckles apparently an aphrodisiac to all of them.

  Bloody hell! What was with that?

  At last, unable to endure another orgasm without going insane, Giselle wrapped her arms tightly around Rem’s neck to steady herself...and to keep her body from being impaled so deeply. “Rem,” she panted, her hair damp with perspiration, “I beg you to put that thing away. You’re liable to kill me if we keep this up.”

  The low growl began. Giselle’s lips pinched together as she whacked him soundly on the chest. “Stop it!” she shrieked. “All the growling in the world won’t change my mind just now. I need some food and drink.”

  Rem immediately stopped growling, his appearance almost contrite. He sighed deeply. “I cannot bear to be disjoined from you just yet, my hearts. Leastways I will hopefully be feeling up to releasing you in another few hours—”

  “A few hours?” she sputtered.

  Bloody hell! She’d be a quivering corpse outside of a few minutes!

  “Rem,” she wailed like a martyr, “I have honestly reached the limit of my endurance.” Her hand flew dramatically to her brow, showing him her palm. “Can you not compromise on this?”

  He grunted, clearly not having a care for her plan. In the end, however, his desire for her comfort won out over his need to be milked. “Alright,” he gritted out, “I will allow for a compromise.” He wrapped his arms tightly about her so that their bodies were not disjoined but so also that his Sacred Mate was not constantly impaled to the point of madness. “Is this more to your liking?”

  Giselle sighed, realizing it was the biggest concession she was likely to get. She supposed it wasn’t so bad. She was still filled with him, there was still some friction down there, but it was more of a languid ache than a sharp yearning.

  That knowledge, however, didn’t keep her lips from pinching together or her nostrils from flaring. “I shall have to nominate you for the Sacred Mate of the year award,” she declared grandly. Her arms flew out in her greatest display of drama yet. “Pilgrims will trek from galaxies far and wide to behold the glory of King Rem Q’an Tal, Sacred Mate extraordinaire.”

  He took offense at her mocking tone. “You have the right of it for a certainty,” he sniffed. “’Tis a passing fair day when a nee’ka realizes the glory of her good fortune.”

  She could only harrumph.

  * * * * *

  An hour later, as Giselle watched a warrior point a zykif at a five hundred pound translucent snake-like creature that had wrapped itself around Death’s legs and was preparing to squeeze the life out of him, she could only be grateful that she was in her papoose.

  The pulse of energy that beam
ed out of the weapon burned the fanged, twelve-legged creature into a crisp upon contact. Death merely shrugged the charred remains off of his body, gave a small nod of thanks to the warrior that had intervened on his behalf, then continued on as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened, his large hands palming Yoli’s buttocks and kneading them.

  Giselle bit down hard on her lip as she and Yoli exchanged worried looks. If there had been one of these creatures, then there could be more.

  Suddenly the fact that she was still impaled on Rem seemed more of a blessing than anything. She decided not to argue with him when he released her body to point towards the holo-port in the distance, allowing her to be re-impaled as the warriors walked briskly toward the structure.

  Giselle cried out on a moan as an orgasm rippled through her body. Rem came to a halt within the holo-port structure and, after flicking one of her distended nipples back and forth a few times, raised her qi’ka top over her breasts. “I would not have outsiders to think you a bound servant,” he said in the way of explanation.

  “Shall I get out of the papoose?” she asked breathlessly, still coming down from her last climax.

  His arms tightened around her. “Nay. Not until we know what we’re up against.”

  She knew that might have been one of his reasons, but the main one was that he simply didn’t want to be disjoined from her body.

  And so it transpired that an armed warrior went through the transport first, followed by Rem, Death, and the women they carried. The rear was brought in by the warrior who carried Bryony and Tess and a final armed warrior at the very back.

  One minute Giselle had been in a black and red pit, but the next, an invisible barrier later, she found their group spit out onto a beautiful purple planet that Rem recognized as a sixth dimension realm in the Horon Galaxy. The transport had taken them further than he’d dared to hope.

  Rem’s gaze flicked towards Death. He smiled over to his best friend as he tightened his hold on Giselle. “’Tis the planet Joo we’ve landed on my friend. They’ve a holo-port that leads to the seventh dimension on the other side of the mountainous terrain.”

  “How long of a journey are we talking?”

  “Mayhap a wee fortnight if we are lucky enough to find a hover-craft on the auctioning block.”

  “And if we need walk?”

  Rem sighed. “Months.”

  Giselle bit down on her lip as she listened to them talk.

  A warrior called Var sidled up to Rem and made an announcement as he gauged readings from the small but complex computer-like instrument he carried. “I’m happy to report that Joo is inhabited of goddess-worshippers, so ‘tis likely we will find them to be allies fluent in our tongue.”

  Rem nodded. “I was here a few times as a man-child whilst on goodwill missions with my sire.” He grinned. “’Tis likely you will enjoy our stay on Joo.”

  The warrior raised a brow but didn’t question his King. ‘Twas Rem’s right to further clarify such a statement should he desire it.

  “We’ve only an hour’s walk,” Rem continued on, “until we come upon the first village.” He waggled his eyebrows. “The wenches on Joo are a lusty lot so they do not bother to don clothing...”

  The warriors smiled at that knowledge.

  “...They will milk your rods for all you have until you’ve spilled so much life-force ‘tis hard to walk.” Rem looked pointedly at Giselle as though he was suffering from that very ailment. She merely threw him an it’s-your-fault-not-mine look.

  “I remember when I was a man-child...” Rem waxed nostalgically to the group as a whole whilst he held on tightly to a still-impaled Giselle, “...and I first visited Joo with Kil and my sire.” He shook his head slightly and grinned. “It took but one suckling from a wench here to drive me into begging my sire to steal away some of these wenches for the harem I was to be gifted with on the moon-rising of my thirteenth Yessat year.”

  Giselle’s eyebrows shot up. A harem at thirteen? Bloody hell!

  “But, of course,” Rem concluded, “’tis illegal in Trek Mi Q’an Galaxy to make a bound servant of a wench whose planet we are not at war with. So my sire gave me his nay.”

  The warriors chuckled, enjoying the story. Even Death grinned.

  Giselle found her eyes straying to Yoli, wondering not for the first time how she had been captured and what would happen to her upon her release. She could see why the bound servant would be such a highly coveted spoil of war. Yoli was beautiful, busty, and if the way she was stroking Death’s shaft and placing kisses all over his torso was any indication, she was also incredibly lusty.

  Roughly an hour later, Giselle glanced about in wide-eyed awe of the village of sorts that they were entering. The inhabitants of Joo looked as human as the members of their group, the only noticeable difference being their skin and hair colors which was either a shiny silver, a decadent lavender, or a shimmery combination of both.

  And indeed, Rem had been correct about the state of dress on Joo as well. The few males she’d seen were fully clothed, while the females pranced around completely divested of clothing.

  The atmosphere here was mostly clear save for a purplish haze that hovered in the skies much like clouds on earth. The trees and vegetation were a bit odd, all of them gargantuan in size and totally silver, covered in purple berries. Such a mechanism of evolution no doubt allowed for the citizens of Joo to find natural camouflage in the jungles should they ever be attacked. Nature, she thought, was an awesome thing.

  The building structures, however, were the most fascinating to Giselle for they all appeared to be underground. One small crude doorway formed of purple clay was erected within a clearing in the jungle which, when opened and entered, led to whatever chambers laid below the purple soil.

  Rem finally released Giselle from her papoose and set her back on the ground, as did Death to Yoli. Rem still bade her to hold his hand, however, instructing her that he needed the touching.

  A few moments later the group opened a door and took a winding staircase fashioned of hard clay to the floor below. Rem had said that the staircase led to the heart of the underground city.

  Giselle stared in amazement at the dark underground world as she entered it, thinking it one of the neatest sights she’d ever clapped eyes on. It was full of music and laughter, pubs and trading stalls everywhere, homes dotted all around the city centre, all of the structures made of purple clay. The dark atmosphere was lightened up by constantly burning tiki torches, only instead of fire the torches seemed to be possessed of a neon-like gel substance.

  The people of Joo were obviously a happy race as laughter and gaiety filled the air. It made Giselle smile. They were so carefree as to be enchanting.

  The sounds of boasts and laughter drew the group’s attention toward an auctioning block erected a few feet away. Giselle’s smile faltered a bit when she realized that the objects being bartered off were women. Or to be more precise, potential brides.

  “The next wench up for sale is the beautiful Fia,” the auctioneer cried out while an extremely busty and very naked girl of no more than eighteen was led out onto the stage to a series of catcalls and whistles. “As you can see, Fia is possessed of exceptional beauty so her sire will accept only the grandest of bids. Do I hear a starting bid of fifty credits?”

  Several hands flew up.

  “Do I hear sixty? Seventy?...”

  And so it went until it came down to two bidders, neither of them certain they wished to pay more than two hundred credits for the right to own Fia’s beautiful silver body.

  “Oh come now men!” the auctioneer cried, “what man amongst you wouldn’t desire the right to rut in Fia’s sweet channel every moon-rising?” He turned to the bride being auctioned off. “Fia, come sit before these gentlemen and show them your lusty cunt.”

  She complied with a smile, sitting down before the remaining two bidders and spreading her thighs wide.

  “Show these men proper respect, wench,” the a
uctioneer scolded her, “by spreading your cunt lips apart for their viewing pleasure.”

  Fia immediately did as she’d been told, murmuring an apology for not having done so to begin with.

  For the next ten minutes the two bidders inspected every nuance of Fia’s silver body. They licked at her labial folds, sucked on her clit until she came and they knew how she tasted, and tweaked and suckled on her distended nipples.

  The girl next demonstrated why she was worth so many credits by sucking off both potential husbands to climax.

  “And so you can see,” the auctioneer continued, “that not only is Fia beautiful, but she is more than able to suckle her husband and her husband’s sire into happiness.”

  Giselle’s lips pinched together disapprovingly. She supposed this wouldn’t be the time most conducive to lecturing these people on the merits of the feminist movement—they needed their help to get off this planet after all—but the fact that the wives here were considered the sexual chattel of both the husband and the husband’s father truly grated.

  Sensing her mood, Rem looked down at his Sacred Mate and chuckled. “’Twill be but one moon-rising we stay here, my hearts. There is no need to get your spots in an uproar.”

  She shot him a withering look that spoke volumes, which only made him laugh all the harder. “Come,” Rem said as he affectionately squeezed her hand, “let us go find a dining stall.”

  Giselle’s stomach rumbled at the mere mention of food. “I hope their meals here are better than their manners toward women.”

  “Not really, but there is no other alternative left to us.”

  She could only groan.

  Chapter 12

  Two days later in Sand City...

  Kil Q’an Tal, the King of Tryston’s dominant red moon Morak, strode into the great hall of the Palace of the Dunes. He was greeted first by his nieces Zora and Zara, who bounded into his arms upon seeing him and dotted kisses all over his face.