House of Lust (64 page)

“When will that be?” Argan asked, concerned Amal would be unwell for a while.

“Later today.  Bragalese women are tough,
Lakhani
.  You should know that.”  Metila knelt by his side and peered at his wounds.  “Yes, it was a good coupling; she was very passionate.”

“Will it be like that all the time?”

Metila laughed, her eyes crinkling.  Argan saw that the witch had many of the physical features that Amal possessed; the brown eyes, the darker skin, the long brown or even black hair, the litheness, smooth skin, and shorter build than the average Kastanian women.  She had a few lines here and there on her face, denoting she was much older, but at first glance one could make the mistake of believing they were mother and daughter.  The Bragalese woman stopped laughing and cocked her head to one side, curious.  “What is it,
Lakhani
?”

“I was just thinking you and Amal look very much alike.  Very beautiful.”

Metila smiled, and Argan decided he did like the woman.  He had a thought, one he would not have had the day before, of what it would be like to make love to her.  He wondered at that; it had all been about dealing with Amal’s change and sexual awakening, but had he gone through something similar?  He certainly looked at Metila differently now, and Amal.  They were no longer merely women, but potential lovers.  Was that normal?  Would it show?  Would people think ill of him if he looked at women with that thought in his head?  Would women recognise that?  He frowned.

“You are too kind with your words,” Metila said.  “You need healing.  I have a potion here that will help,” she held up a very small brass cup full of what seemed to be crushed leaves, then spat in it.  She saw Argan’s look and giggled, drawing another admiring look from Argan.  “No, I am not for you,” she said, noting his look.  “One Bragal woman and you think you can do the same to all?  You are a typical young man; control that,” she prodded his loins.  “Or else you will be the servant of any woman who knows how to control a man through love making.”

“Like a Bragalese witch, Metila?” Argan smiled, a gleam in his eye.

Metila wagged a finger at him.  “I would kill you if we did that now.  You need to recover.  I am much older than you,
Lakhani
, you should spare your emotions for her and others of that age.”  She mixed the paste with her finger, and then put some on Argan’s shoulder wound. 

He hissed and bit his lip.  “I hope love making isn’t like this every time.  Will she bite like this again?”

“No, only at the time of Growing Through.  From now on she will be in control of her passions, but she will know what to do.  Last night she could not control it.  She will still be very passionate, and you will get scratches, but only if you are good.  A Bragalese woman will soon learn if a man is not up to pleasing her, and she will leave.”

“Really?  Goodness…… Kastanian women too?”

“I don’t think so,” Metila shook her head, placing a second blob on the other deep wound.  “Kastanian women are less – passionate – than Bragalese.  They are more settled in marriage too.  Kastanian marriages are meant to last forever, so if you are going to marry the Varaz girl, as I hear, you will have to stay with her for life.”

“And Amal?” he said, looking over at her, trying to ignore the deep stinging pain as the woman pressed more of the paste to his scratches.

“She will be yours,
Lakhani
, do not fear.  I can see problems with your future wife, but that is for you to sort and nobody else.  Now, remove your leggings.”

Argan looked surprised, but after a curt gesture from the woman, he did so, wondering about her reaction to his nakedness.  She looked at him for a moment, nodded, and then treated his leg scratches.  “You are like your father,” she commented, looking up at him.

“Yes, you know him quite well; you caused a lot of trouble between mother and father.  Did you use a potion on him?”

Metila smiled enigmatically.  “Maybe, maybe not.  I could do the same to you and you would not be able to resist.  As I said, you are not strong enough, and I do not sleep with everyone I meet.  I decide, not the men.”

Argan looked closely at her.  “I don’t really understand.”

Metila pursed her lips.  “Men mistakenly think we are just for their pleasure; and that women like me are whores, good just for love making.  We Bragalese do not do that with everyone; if we do not like a man then we will not touch them, and they know it.  We only do it with men whom we wish to, and whom we wish to get something from.  A Bragalese woman is very attractive to a man and we know that, and we therefore use what we have to get what we want.  Would you say we are the weaker, or the men, in being so easily controlled?”

Argan grinned and closed his eyes.  The pain was getting very uncomfortable.  “I am just like the other men, then.  If you can control father so easily, I will be, too.  Amal will control me.”

“If a man has a Bragalese woman following him, like you have with Amal, then you are indeed fortunate.  You can use her to get the truth or anything you like out of them without torture.  You ask her to seduce them and get information, and she will, happily.”

“I wouldn’t want to use her like…”

Metila put her finger to his lips, then gave him a stern look.  “This is a man’s world, so what can a woman do?  Would you make her less useful to you?  She would not think good things of you if you did so.  She loves you, I know, I have seen it in her eyes.  You have someone there who will sacrifice her own life for you.  Do not become like many other men and think we have little use and that we are less than equals.”

“I wouldn’t think that!”

She sighed and nodded.  “I believe you; you are a very good man, a good Prince, yet you would not make a good emperor.  Your father is not the first of what I have said, and is definitely the latter.  Treat Amal like a person, not an object, and she will serve you for the rest of her life.  I hear good things about you
Lakhani
; do not disappoint me.”

“I shall not.”

She stood up and looked down at him.  “Then if you do please me so, I may even one day show you what it is to have a witch make love to you.”  She smiled.

Argan grinned, his heart beating.  He felt a wave of pleasure sweep through him. “I shall try to not disappoint you,
Okloka
,” he gave her the Bragalese title of witch. 

Metila bowed to him, acknowledging his respectful address.  She then knelt at his feet and placed her head on the floor, putting a foot on the back of her head.  She had only ever done that to one other, and not to Landwaster, the man that was emperor of Kastania.  She respected Argan’s father’s strength and position, but she did not like him.  She had given herself to him, yes, but that was for two reasons and nothing to do with wanting him.  His son, however, had something different, a subtle power, strength. 
Charisma
.  Yes, that was it, charisma.

Argan had experienced this before from Amal, but this had taken him by surprise nonetheless.  He rested his foot lightly on her head, then sensing she was ready to stand again, he withdrew it.  He saw Metila about to raise herself, but stood quickly himself and offered his hand to assist her, looking at her the way he had been taught by Mr. Sen, with authority.

Metila, suddenly awed, meekly took it and stood, then bowed her head.  Why could she not look him in the face?  Looking at his loins was not bad, and she had to admit that given three more years, he would be fully able to satisfy most women.  He was still not yet fully grown.  She looked up and Argan was still regarding her, his eyes careful, watchful.  She cleared her throat.  “We still have much to learn from one another,
Lakhani
,” she said.

“Yes, Metila.  I must learn, for I have a great responsibility to the people of Kastania.  I will learn not only from the nobility, but also from the common people.”

“Ah, if only more had your sense,” Metila said wistfully, then shook her head as if to dispel the thought.  “You will have to leave now for I must tend Amal there.  She will need assistance before she is able to re-join you.”

Argan nodded and scrambled round for his clothes, finding them eventually.  He dressed, then went up to Metila once more.  He stroked her cheek.  “I said it before and I will say it again Metila.  You are very beautiful.”  He kissed her cheek and left, leaving a very thoughtful and wide-eyed Metila staring at the shut door for a time, her mind whirling.  For one so young he had a very wise manner.  She knew about bending men to her will, but this was the first time she had met a man who could bend most people, men or women, to his.  She recognised his innate ability, and then loosened her shift.  Her nipples were hard and rubbing against it.  By the powers of nature!  He had awakened her body to his!  Nobody – nobody – had ever done that to her before.  She would have to be watchful from now on when he was around.

She turned and looked at the sleeping form of Amal, and had a brief shaft of jealousy.  This lucky woman would have a long and probably enjoyable sexual liaison with him.  Metila wished she was sixteen again – then exhaled noisily.  That was fate.  She was fortunate to be where she was, and although Thetos was no handsome figure, he was big, strong, powerful.  She had a good position in the governor’s residence of Makenia, and held a place of power and respect through Thetos.

She knelt again, right by the bed, and stroked the girl.  Beautiful, yes.  A good Bragalese woman, classic looks and physique.  She would evoke lust from the weak Kastanian men.  She chuckled softly.  Being a prince’s slave meant she would be off limits to most.  That would frustrate most of them. 

Amal stirred and her eyes flicked open.  “What?”

Metila stroked her hair, whispering Bragalese to her.  Amal smiled and realised who it was.  “
Lakhani
has gone?”

“Yes.  I am to help you recover.  It was a good Growing Through, was it not?”

Amal nodded.  “Mmmm.  Oh, he was good!”

“He is a Koros.  No weak fool like many of the others.  They are almost like we Bragalese.”

“He is different, not brutal or hard hearted.”

“Yes – he is different and you are very fortunate.  Come, sit up.  Let me help you get your strength back.”  Metila passed Amal a small porcelain cup she had in her pocket, and a small bottle of liquid.  She poured the liquid into the cup and offered it to Amal.  “Weak strength potion.  I won’t give you a strong one; you’re not well enough to have that.”

Amal drank it and sat on the edge of the bed, feeling her limbs twitch with renewed energy.  “Thank you.”

“It is expected, a tradition.  Now listen.  You will desire men now, every day, except when it is your phase which is only two days.  You must know some herbs that help prevent pregnancy, as you will be most vulnerable right before your phase.  I shall give you some and then you will go and pick your own.  Eat one leaf each day, and you will not fall pregnant.  Should you wish to have a child then stop taking it, but I must warn you, if you have
Lakhani
’s child there may be difficulties.”

“I know – I will not have his child.  That is for his betrothed to do that.”

“Good.  Now, it will be fine for you to have other men, but do not allow them to lead – you must want them and entice them. 
Lakhani
is particularly vulnerable at present as he had just experienced the joys of having a woman, and I would say it is best to satisfy both your urges at the present time, until you can learn to control them better.  You both have much to learn about love making, so learn together.”

“Will you help me, Metila?”

“Yes, I am to be your guide through your learning year.  In one year though you will have learned how to use your body, how to enjoy your power over men, how to excite a man you desire.  I shall show you how to do it.”

Amal smiled.  She wanted to be the best, to give Argan the best love she could possibly achieve.

___

Argan strode carefully to the tutor room he used with Mr. Sen.  It was the afternoon and he had missed the morning session, which Mr. Sen would not be pleased about.  No matter, Argan knew he had an equally important function that required his attention, and missing one morning of whatever subject it was meant to be wasn’t crucial.  He felt pleased at him having been able to help Amal, for she was a good friend to him – and now something even better.  Was it better?  Being close friends as they had been was good, for it gave him the warmth and happiness of having someone there who wanted to be there with him.

Now they had become lovers, would that make any difference?  How different did he feel towards Amal?  He wanted to be with her even more now, to feel the physical pleasure of her – he knew he had to do it again, to find out what it was like without being under the influence of one of Metila’s potions.  He wanted to know whether she would like him as much, and would she wish to be as intimate with him as he wanted to be with her?  He needed to know.  He wanted to know.

The room stood before him and he opened the door, looking in.  Mr. Sen was talking to Thetos Olskan, much to Argan’s surprise.  “Oh, I didn’t know you were busy,” he said, holding onto the door handle.  “Should I return later?”

“No, your majesty, come in, come in,” Mr. Sen said, waving him on.