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Jungle Moons, Part One
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Jungle Moons
["Jungle Moons" is the second in a series of erotic sword and
sorcery stories featuring the adventures of Wulf the Freelance
(the first being "Heart of the Lion" -- send me some mail if
you want a copy). This installment continues Wulf's adventures
in his ensorceled form, that of an impossibly high-sexed
lion-man, in the decadent empire of Xesh. It contains sex of
all forms, including S&M (of an entirely consensual nature),
lesbian incest, and some really gratuitous, non-sex-related
violence. Like the previous story, it has no rape, compulsion,
sexual violence, pedophilia, necrophilia, snuff elements, or
other things your author finds distasteful. If any of these are
your thing, go find it somewhere else... Again, your comments
are welcome. Read and enjoy.]
[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
fourteen 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 sixteenth
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 sixteen 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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