Love Charms (84 page)

With
one dark hand on the pale woman’s shoulder, he pinned her to the cushions as he
slid over top of her. That heavy shaft of his bobbed upwards, and he hesitated
for just a moment. Enough to let her realize her duty and so she reached in,
lifting its large heft and guiding him in towards that damp flower. She let it
kiss his dark crown so lovingly before he began to push down into that virginal
slit.

Mirella
licked around her mouth and still tasted the other woman’s sex so strong on her
lips. She wanted to see, and even that jealousy could do little to hinder her
enjoyment of this. Instead, she wormed her way up along Rachel’s side and
watched the fear and desire mark her face.

“It
will hurt, but it will be delightful,” she promised. Her hand worked down
between the two, pressing roughly against that aching, pulsing nub between her
nether lips. She worked it expertly and caused the younger woman to gasp and
moan, her legs parting wider for that unearthly cock.

With a
depth of approval she had not expected, her king leaned in and kissed at her
lips, pushing his tongue into Mirella’s mouth. The embrace of mouths went on
long until his shredding of Rachel’s innocence on the head of his cock brought
the young woman to a shriek, and he broke it to look at the pale young woman,
not ceasing his dive as he plumbed the depths of that virginally tight quim,
bottoming out within her and immediately beginning to pump pitilessly.

She was
breathless, and the shared taste of the woman between them was something so
primal to her. Fingers working faster between those saliva and honey soaked
lips; she moved to silence Rachel’s cries, but only for a second. She just
wanted enough to share that sensation with her as well before moving onto her
neck, sucking her tender, peach flesh almost brutally as her god fucked the
other woman ruthlessly.

The
slap of his dark sac against Rachel’s pale ass grew, his husky grunts and
groans creating a stir in the air as he pumped himself faster, harder. As
Mirella worked the young woman to a frenzy she saw the throbs in his thick cock
widen that torn slit, the labia stretched in a completely vulgar display.

With
the tightness of that quim and his ruthless pace, it wasn’t long before she saw
as her lord and master worked himself to his release. With his handsome face
contorted, brows knitted, he groaned loudly as he buried himself into the young
woman and emptied his loins of all their virile cum, utterly filling that poor
girl with his seed.

Jealousy
once more edged into her mind, and she became so aware of that painful
throbbing between her own legs. She’d never wanted someone so bad, to ever
devote herself to one person’s pleasure so selflessly that she’d deny herself,
but she knew it was good. It was what he wanted, and even though she hated the
idea of Rachel or the other concubines spawning his child, her hand worked its
way up to the woman’s stomach, rubbing it gently.

“You
are so lucky,” she breathed out with such wanting.

Rising
up from Rachel’s pale, quivering form, he slid out of her reddened slit then
grabbed for Mirella. The action was so fast, so abrupt, he seemed angry. Those
strong arms took hold of her, and he pushed her away from the young woman,
moving with her so that she and her God-King rolled down a pile of cushions
together.

When
they came to a halt he had his arms about her, their bodies pressed and he was
forcing such a passionate kiss onto her. What had seemed like violent rage at
first became clear to them all as some depraved act of lust or affection. With
his slick, stiff cock jammed against Mirella, he ground against her and kissed
her so deep, so passionately.

She was
at a loss and that haze of lust overwhelmed her. Arms flung around his neck,
she met each one of the presses of his hips with her own. She was so wet that
she felt it down her inner thighs, unhampered by panties, and the skirt had
easily fallen away, revealing her lower half to the room full of half-naked
women. She didn’t care about them, though, nor the tiny mewls of pain from
Rachel at her side.

Instead
it was just him, just her, grinding and kissing in the quickly warming tent.

When he
finally broke their kiss, it was to arch his spine and raise his shoulders,
gliding that thick, meaty shaft down along her slit until he was positioned to
nudge it into her. He was insatiable, like no other man she’d been with nor
heard tale of, and he had his cock within her and was thrusting and pumping
like some mad animal in heat.

It was
more than the intensity of it, the passion of it. The way he was positioned
over her so, it was dominance. It was possessiveness. He was claiming her,
marking her as his in front of all the other women. This wasn’t about breeding,
this was about much more, she could tell that as she glimpsed across his glossy
chest and watched him pound her long and hard into the rich cushions below.

The
tiny, peppered moans were silenced against his lips, again and again as she
sought to press as much of her flesh to his. Relief and need mingled within her
body as she licked and bit at his neck and chest, gasping and panting as her
legs spread wider, his hard, charcoal coloured cock splitting her pretty little
lips open again and again.

The
sight was so crude, but for them, it was perfection.

When
she felt that familiar swell within him, his pounding having brought her over
the edge and into screaming pleasure, he reached out, grabbing another woman by
the ankle and yanking her strongly towards them.

She
couldn’t tell if the other woman resisted, though being one of the new ones she
found it hard to imagine she wouldn’t. And instead of the pleasing rush of her
king’s release inside her, she felt him pull out. Immediately he tanked another
brunette to him, impaling her on his cock with a brutal thrust. He paid no heed
to her lack of readiness as he jack hammered his final moments out to a roaring
climax.

She
gasped and instinctively rolled towards him, her body following after his even
as he denied her that finale. Her body shuddered and shook with the
aftershocks, but still she wanted more, even though she felt so sore. So very
sore. It didn’t matter though. Not even the fact that he hadn’t given her what
she wanted mattered.

All
that mattered was that he got what he wanted.

With a
snap of his fingers he kissed Mirella hard, panting and breathing heavily as he
yanked his cock from another seeded cunt, pointing to a new woman. “That one,”
he instructed, his hard pecs rising and falling so dramatically with his heavy
breathing, making him look like a living statue carved from obsidian.

Chapter 7

The
princess was being stubborn. So very stubborn. Well over a month of insistent
sulking and refusing to meet with her trusted servant. Not that it displeased
Mirella on a personal level. Being away from her meant she was almost like a
queen of the concubines. It was her that the God-King trusted to select his
women for fertilization. It was her he showed obvious favouritism towards.

Most
importantly, she hadn’t had a period since he’d first taken her, and the aching
swell of her breasts both suggested she was quickened by his seed.

The
only damper on it at all was the knowledge that her lord had grander plans that
relied on the Princess’s cooperation. And that was still not forthcoming.

When
the summons came to her, the guard-concubines brought her through the palace,
but to an unusual place. It was a back viewing hall, rarely used by the old
king. It had a series of wide windows that viewed out through the gap in the
mountain pass to the green fields south of the mountains. There she found the
throne, torn from the very marble floor of the throne room and placed
overlooking the plains south.

In his
usual garb, sat the God-King himself, in some deep contemplation.

“Your
Greatness?” she asked curiously as she made her way in. Already she’d disposed
of her clothing and was so gloriously, triumphantly nude as she moved to his
side. Her gaze was unable to move from his for a long few heartbeats before she
finally followed his stare outside.

“Something
troubles you?” she asked as she moved to his lap, quite brazenly sitting her
firm rear atop his leather clad lap.

They
were alone, and it was strange to be in such a massive hall accompanied only by
the marble columns around them. He responded quite well to her approach,
putting his arm around her, holding her close and taking no objection to her
forward manner. She’d come to realize over the time since he’d taken over that
he appreciated her brazenness. Mixed with her true devotion, it made a sweet
nectar for the dark man. A true respite from everyone else with their fear and
grovelling.

Stroking
his hand along her hip and waist he kept his gaze through the mountain pass
ahead. “The seer is coming,” he stated simply, sounding troubled, rubbing his
lower lip with his free hand before he placed it on her lap.

Her
breath held, and her back pressed against his chest, “The Princess still sulks.
I had hoped it would isolate her, leaving you to become her only point of
contact, yet I’ve failed you,” she lamented. “If only that fucking bitch would
get over herself for ten seconds, I could have her be yours, I’m certain of
it.” She didn’t sound whiny, but she was quite obviously disappointed in
herself.

Sliding
his dark gaze over to her it was like having her soul flayed. With a squeeze of
her hip and thigh he took a deep breath, his chest expanding. “The seer would
not be coming here unless it was urgent. More urgent than the fickle whims of a
little princess.”

His
gaze passed down over her, her bare flesh distracting him, but only somewhat.
She could still see the creases of worry on his broad face despite his
attraction to her, despite the throb of a stirred cock beneath her round ass.

Her
hand went to his face, trailing along him, seeking to work out the worried
furrows and reassure him, “I’m only your servant, Your Greatness. I cannot hope
to foresee things as you. What do you make of it?” she asked, her words so
gentle and not at all condescending. She was absolutely genuine with him.

She had
spent most of the months since the conquest in the concubine’s tent, but on
occasion he had taken her out, brought her to various places in the palace
itself. Most often the breakfast grove, since she seemed to like it. But this
was the first time he’d taken her aside merely for the pleasure of her company,
it seemed. For even though he stirred to her, he didn’t simply take her as he
usually did.

“I fear
events move quicker than I foresaw,” he muttered in that dark, otherworldly
voice of his. “I thought I would have over a year at least to secure my
holdings before the Empire stirred. But if my mother—” he hesitated, as
if he didn’t mean to say that and regretted it, “the Seer comes, then it can
only be to warn me of grave doom. She would not leave her hovel otherwise.”

She
spent a long while thinking on this. She hadn’t great military prowess or
knowledge, and her face contorted briefly. “If the King is dead, then it must
be the Princess’ betrothed bringing you trouble. He is the only one with a true
vested interest,” she said calmly. She always hungered for him, but she
wouldn’t dream of presuming upon him when troubled so. Instead she just
continued to stroke him, her fingers working along his muscles.

Taking
a deep breath, he reclined, shutting his eyes as her olive toned fingers
strummed over his muscles, soothing away his worries. She comforted him. It was
such a realization, to acknowledge that her king—her god—found
comfort and relief by her mere presence and touch.

“You’re
wise,” he said at last, opening his eyes to narrow slits and looking at her.
“But if you’re right, and a prince of the empire marches against me, I haven’t
the men to stand against them.” His grip on her tightened, painfully so, for
just a heartbeat, but he relaxed. “Retreat might be the only option. To leave
behind the city and its spoils.”

She
rubbed him so gently as she thought that over, her head shaking in protest,
“This is yours. The city and its spoils belong to you, and I won’t let you lose
that. I may have failed with the Princess, but I will not fail in this. There
is a way,” she nuzzled his jaw. “We will think of something.”

Her
bold words surprised him, and he furrowed his brows again as he looked to her,
studying her as if she were a new person altogether.

It was
a long silence of his studied gaze, only broken when he lifted his hand,
stroking his fingertips along her stomach, then breast. He pressed his palm to
her darkened areola and squeezed, the tender, swollen mound aching with the
pain of it before he released. “You’re pregnant,” he said simply.

“Yes,”
she responded in the same, clipped tone, but her smile was undeniable. Her
fingers ran along his jaw, teasing him before returning to tend to the muscles
in his neck and shoulders. “And I will give birth in the same place I
conceived. This is your domain, now, Your Greatness. We will fight for you,”
she paused, licking her lips. “One of the others,” she said, obviously
referring to the concubines, for whom else was there, for her? “They mentioned
they have certain powers you can best take advantage of. Would you grace me
with their battle knowledge?”

She had
seen nobody but the other concubines and him for so long, there was no
mistaking who she meant. The suggestion made him arch his brow and look on at
her in surprise again. She was full of intrigue.

Licking
along his own full lips, he squeezed her against his hard body. “The women of
the Ka’reem are forbidden to fight. It has been so for time immemorial,” he
stated this plainly, “until I came along.” But she could tell on his voice
there was something else. Something he wasn’t saying but seemed to beg to be
pried out of him.

Her
lips found his neck, and her breath washed over his throat before she kissed
him, the light sensation so tender and doting. “But?” she whispered, her smooth
skin rubbing along his as she nuzzled his ear with her nose. Her fingers still
worked against him and she was a constant source of pleasure with the way her
expert ministrations worked him.

With a
husky groan he squeezed his thick bicep about her, mashing those heavy,
engorged breasts to his pecs. Biting her ear, he ground his arousal against
her, stroking a hand along her full hip as he muttered lowly. “You are a vexing
woman, Mirella. A dangerous plaything,” he remarked with every bit of
complement his voice could hold.

“It is
a secret. Even amongst the Ka’reem themselves.” He hesitated, his breathing
heavy, “It is why the men fear their women without even knowing why.”

A brief
huff of air passed his flesh, a half-hearted laugh with a quirked grin, “I
thought it was just because they were tough.” Her hands kept finding all those
right places, playing him so expertly even in this new situation. Her tongue
traced along his Adam’s apple, suctioning around it for a second before she
pulled back, her green eyes on his.

“I am
yours, Your Greatness. In all things. Let me help you and share your burdens,”
she pleaded, so genuinely.

It was
no easy decision. That much was obvious watching his smooth, unblemished face
contort in thought over the question. Sliding a hand over her stomach, he
pressed in against it, feeling the slight bit of hardness beneath her soft,
smooth skin, as if feeling evidence of her pregnant state confirmed something for
him he needed to know.

With a
stern nod he said, “You’ll meet the seer. She’ll judge you. Perhaps teach you,”
he remarked. Then added softer, “I hope she finds you worthy, as I have.”

She
felt so tender at his touch, but his words drove her to a place she’d never
known existed within herself. She fought back the signs of her weakness, but
that moisture remained in her eyes even as she tried to blink it back, “What
should I do? How will she judge me?”

He saw
her weakness, those dark eyes of his broke through her barriers and saw the
softness within her despite her attempts to hide it.

“I
don’t know,” his lack of knowledge obviously bothering him. “As I have said,
these are matters of the Ka’reem women.” He reached up, brushing some of her
sleek black hair from her face, leaning in and kissing her forehead. “I
understand them better than any man alive, yet I do not have the answer to
either question. You shall just have to show you are better than your birth.”

She
nodded, but there was something stuck in her throat that she struggled to
swallow down, her lips pressing against his so flushly. “I will do it for you,”
she murmured against his mouth, her nose pressing against his as she shifted,
her swollen breasts flattened against his muscular chest. “How long do I have?
And how shall I dress?”

“Days,”
he responded to the first, but had a slight smirk for the latter. “It does not
matter. The seer does not see what is. Only what will be. Or was.” He kissed
her lips then, the sound of their moist mouths smacking resonating in the
massive, empty hall.

He
throbbed beneath her needfully, and he finished, “Now do your duty for your
king. I must think.” His hand moved through her hair, taking hold of her head
and pushing it down in so blatantly suggestive a manner she could hardly miss
it.

As
always, she was only too willing. She shifted into position before her teeth
tugged at the binds that held him. Her hands and mouth sought him out as he sat
atop that throne, stewing about the future. She, too, had matters on her mind,
but the moment that throbbing shaft pulsed against her wet mouth, they all
slipped away in favour of better things.