The Concubine

The Concubine

(Letters to her King)

F.Phal

Copyright © 2013 F.Phal

All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Y
ou come to me as you do every night when you are in need of comfort. Every inch the mighty king you were destined to be you enter my chamber. Breathless, enthralled by your predator grace, I watch as you make your way to me. Your every footfall stifled by the carpet, your gaze pinions me to the spot, heated, and smoldering it elicits delicious shivers. I can do no more than anxiously await your touch, a willing prey to your advances.

Upon reaching me on the wide bed, your caress is whisper soft along my cheek. Your long, elegant fingers coast gently down my skin, grazing the golden-red collar around my neck with deliberate slowness. The Norian royal crest emblazoned across the aureate surface is a proclamation to all in your kingdom that I am your property, your pleasure slave… your favorite.

You stoop down bringing your beautiful face closer to mine, so close that I can smell the sweet scent of the wine you had at dinner. A smile curves your lips as your thumb continues its gentle caress along my cheek and your kiss is sweet, gentle, bliss is a sigh upon your heated mouth. Then your fingers thread through my curls, the instant tug is telling of the roaring passion lurking just beneath the surface of your pale skin. And I know in that one simple gesture that release will not be gentle tonight.

I smile and reach out to touch your handsome face patrician features never failing in capturing my attention.

“I am yours to do with as you please.” I softly whisper, shrugging free of my satin robe. It falls around my waist in a crimson pool. Your eyes gleam and I glimpse at the lust gathering like storm clouds beneath hooded lids. With a growl you pounce. I melt in your hands.
“I am sorry.” You sigh lovingly against the shell of my ear. Soon I am pleading with you to take me faster, drive into me harder, and take me to heights unseen.
“Marik.” I come undone in your arms, my very soul on fire. Soon I feel your essence fill me, your seed buried deep within me and I cannot ask for more. You collapse beside me, sated. You labor for breath, while your arms drapes across my abdomen, your breaths sharp as it tickles the wisps of hair at my ear.
In this pregnant silence, with nothing in the air but the echoes of our spent passion fusing with the sweet scent of summer night, I feel foolish for loving you. The absurdity of it is a blow right between to my battered heart. A concubine in love with her king. The idea would’ve seemed laughable if it weren’t so heartrending. Loving you, my dearest Marik, is asking for heartbreak. You are king. And I am one of many. Your harem is full of the women you have bedded and forgotten, but still with who I must share you with. Even still, duty to your wife drives you from me for days at a time. I think I die a little each time you are with them. I cannot bear to share you and yet I must. What choice do I have?

“You are quiet.” You rasp in the stillness, a finger mindlessly twirling my ebony curls. “Did I hurt you?”

“Not at all. Tell me what had you so stressed?”

“It seems I have gained myself another wife. The council believes a union between Noria and Sry will solidify our tenuous peace treaty. Preparations are being made for the Sryian princess’s arrival.” You don’t seem to willingly want to hurt me and yet you accomplish the feat with such acute flourish it makes me ill. Another person for me to share you with, how do I bear it?

“Tears, Lealin?” Your bemusement is an odd comfort.
“Of joy. Congratulations, Marik.” I smile through my tears and in a graceful swoop I am beneath you and your comfort me the best way you know how.
 

Your fingers sift through my hair with mindless ease. Your mouth is elsewhere, but I know your mind is with me. That thought is a silent comfort as I continue to read the book on my lap. Your voice is a soft even lilt that has the power to set all in attendance at ease, myself included. You address your council about the surmounting issues in Hidara and I listen with half an ear as you indicate your concerns. Then allow the council of twelve to deliberate on a solution to squelch the uprising rebellions in the south of Noria.

So young and yet so wise I can hardly believe it has been but five years since you ascended the Norian throne and already the kingdom thrives in your hands. The tyranny of the late king Olin, may the Gods grant him passage to the great beyond, still echoes in the four corners of this mighty kingdom. The fear, the blood, the anger his reign had wrought still resonates in the Norian denizen.

But your compassion has shown the people of Noria that you are not like your father. Your perseverance has mended those gaping wounds, has gained you the respect and adoration that Olin never had. Each day I pray that your reign remains ever peaceful, ever prosperous. May you always be fair and kind. Understand that the Norian people are a strong lot, resilient and they look to you for a future of tranquility and peace.

I can remember it like it was only yesterday that you rescued me from a fate worst then death. Me, Lealin, a Davarin slave. Sold into the hands of a sadistic man by parents I can vaguely remember, the years before I came to your palace were hell. My slave collar then hadn’t been like the one I now wear.

The eroding shackle too small to fit around my neck had eaten at my skin, violent red abrasions marring my flesh, breathing had proved impossible. When he’d tugged I could remember death seducing me. But then I heard your voice, your soft yet powerful voice. Like an avenging angel you came to my aid, your entire being white and pure, beautiful, you’d been ready to kill on my behalf.
Even now as I recall upon it, I can still imagine those slashing silver eyes spewing princely venom as you ordered your guards to immediately put him to death for the improper treatment of a slave. I wonder now, whether you would’ve actually executed him had it not been for my protests?

That day you claimed me as yours and there was nothing I could say. A life of a slave as I have come to learn is never their own. So you took me and made me your concubine, trained solely for your pleasure.

I have known you now for nearly a decade. I have been with you through it all. I have seen you at your worse always there to silently love you. I have celebrated with you at your best, your happiness making my heart light. With you I have shared tears, your sorrows marrow deep, were like my own. In your arms I caught love, experienced heaven when our bodies whispered between satin sheets. I have seen you take your first wife and have watched from my chained shadows as you became my king. King to a broken nation.
I know you Marik possibly more than you know yourself. I love you more than words can express. You are, even now still that boy who rescued me so long ago, with your unrestrained enthusiasm for life and insouciant smiles.

“Are you hungry?” Your voice draws me back from my reverie and glancing up I find your blithe smile infectious.

“Yes.” Your gaze darkens pewter eyes nearly black and I can tell that my answer has pleased you.
“Salyn will escort you to my chambers.” You signal Salyn to approach, one of a rare few allowed near my person, is entitled to do so only because he is my personal guard. He is swift upon your command and as he awaits further instructions, you lower your head, never one to adhere to protocol, your mouth settles eagerly on mine your hair so pale it appears silver curtains our kiss from those in attendance. You take breath from my lungs, wet, sweetly tender, the kiss is a promise of the pleasures to come.

“Tonight.” Your voice is seduction upon my lips, as dark as the gathering lust in your fevered gaze. With one last lingering peck, you settled back upon your throne, once again attuned to your sullen wife.
Salyn takes hold of the gilt chains attached to my collar. He allows me a second to wrap the creamy robes around my body, before escorting me out the court room. The eyes of many upon the king’s favorite concubine.
 

***

The wine is sweet and pleasantly bitter against my tongue. I tip my goblet back and relish the rich taste. Your eyes are on me, narrowed with intent they absorb my every move. It should unnerve me but it does not. I have found comfort in that assessing gaze and I have come to learn that only here, in the fire lit privacy of this room, within these burrowed moments we share, you are at your best comfort, completely carefree and truly happy. Within the four walls of this room, you are only Marik and I am only Lealin. No tittles, no wives, no concubines and no councilors. Simply you and me.

I sigh as I feel the evening breeze sweep in from the open terrace, warm and scented slightly with spices I can almost taste. I set the goblet down by my side and grab the bowl of honeyed fruits.

“Share one with me.” You lick your lips, the invitation compelling. With practiced ease I lean forward, my body thrumming with anticipation. On my hands and knees I peck your lips, playing the coy little concubine we both know I am not. Your gaze, alight with merriment stares at me, waiting my next move.

My laugh is short and slowly turns into a smile. Allowing the ripen berry to emerge between my lips, hot and wet from my mouth, I lean in and press the berry against your smirking lips. Our eyes dance with childish merriment that quickly smolders and your soft growl is all the warning I receive before your lips devour my own. The sweet fruit explodes and mingles with the heady flavors of wine and our lust. Heavens! How you master me. Your groan and my whimpers harmoniously ring and vibrate between us.
“Ma…Marik.” I pant, gripping the folds of your robe as you pull away.
 

“Minx,” you affectionately chide, and lick my trembling lips. ”We have all night. I want to enjoy you.” As if you don’t every other night, insatiable man. “Come,” your hand, so incredibly white and larger than my own earth toned one is perfect in its manicured elegance as you help me rise. “I am in need of a bath.”
The chamber attached to your sleeping quarters is a bathhouse for all your kingly pleasures. I am still amazed at the ingenious indoor plumbing. The canopy of crystalline pipes that allowed heated water to flow continuously within the marble tub is an echoing rush inside the hallow chamber. The air is warm here, damp, the alluring aroma of sandalwood and mint is always a welcomed one. I sigh, loving the gentle mist settling along my naked skin from the rushing waterfall. The tiled floor is wet and warm beneath our feet.

“This is my favorite room in the palace.” I say quietly, stepping behind you to help remove the forest green long robe that bears the royal crest.
“Yes, mine also.” You turn to face me, your hair gleams like a halo from the candelabra adorning the walls, blond and beautiful. Your arms encircle my waist and you pull me closer, flush against your body, our contours meshing. Where I am soft and yielding you are hard and strong. Your breath skims my lips as your hair tickles my cheeks. 

“This room holds unforgettable memories.” You utter quietly. Heat rises to my skin, a combination of your powerful presence and the swirling warmth in the room. I feel slightly faint. Sharing in your memories, I can clearly remember all that had transpired here. In this very chamber, your bathhouse, is where you first took me, made me yours in all sense of the word. This room is where I realize the depths of my love for you.

A thought suddenly springs on me, ugly and jealous. I wonder whether you have shared this chamber with any other. Have you spoken sweet nothings to the rest, my love? Have you explored every crevice of their bodies with your wicked mouth even as they cried for more?
My ardor suddenly evaporates. My heart, how it beats for you, rebels against my treacherous mind. But what else would you have me think? I maybe your favorite, but I will never be the only one. Foolish me, I almost made the mistake of forgetting that.

I make to escape your embrace.
“Lealin,” You take my tearful face within your hands and fondly kiss my tears away.

“Believe me when I say that it is of only our memories this room echoes. Your sweet whimpers are all that I hear and none else. Do you understand?” How can I not? My heart grows full, heavier; it swells until I allow the aching sob to twist from my throat.
“Lealin…sweet, Lealin, please believe me. No one has ever seen or entered the halls of this chamber, but the servants. None else, only you, my own, only you…” You press your forehead against my own and I am speechless with emotion. I stand on my naked toes and indulge my love in the heaven that is your mouth. 
Soon, you are once more Alpha to my subservient soul, your hands mold my buttocks and you crush me to your rapidly growing rod, you tongue scalding mine into submission. You lift me in one effortless scoop, and my legs instinctively wrap around your tapered waist, never breaking the kiss. I cannot imagine how you have managed to walk us back to your bed, but my mind is fogged with need that I could not care in the least.
Your hands are everywhere and yet nowhere; every pore on my body screams for a touch of you… just a touch Marik. My clothes, what little I began with are gone, ripped away into oblivion. You’re biting me, agonizingly erotic bites that have my supine body arching for another nip, another draw of your blessed tongue sweeps over each bite mark and I exhale in ecstasy. Now you have me at you absolute mercy, between my quivering thighs, your mouth is at my center. Merciful heavens your lips… your tongue… I melt for you.
“Nhgh…Marik.” my fingers are in your hair, pulling and tugging, muttering incoherent words, begging you for everything. An explosion is building, starting from the very tips of my toes, traveling with ridiculous velocity between my legs. My hips buck, my toes curl and with your name on my lips like an erotic prayer, I die. My body jerks from the intensity, my breath ragged and fast and then you are there, holding me close, sharing my release as your mouth covers mine and I can taste myself, sweet and salty and rich, fusing with your taste like ambrosia.
“You’re beautiful, just like this…” you murmur against my head. I can feel your manhood, twitching against my tight, calling me to return the favor. I make to rise, but your arm across my hip causes me to look at you.
“Sleep…we have all night.” 
“Yes, and I mean to enjoy every second of it.” Upon saying that, I am on you, my legs straddling your hips. I have learned many things in the beginning of our affair, some from the Erostas and the rest from you. I know where to lick to make you squirm, I know how to stroke to make you buck, and I know where to nip and suckle to have you groaning my name. I know your body just as I know my own. 
I worship every inch of you, just as you’ve worshipped me and when you are growling to flip me beneath you and piston into my body, I swallow the very root of you into my mouth, relishing the thick and blunt tip skimming the back of my throat. Your hand is on the back of my neck, forcing it down with savage need, your fingers are raking through my hair, coaxing. But I won’t let you release, not yet, that pleasure will be for us both. I lift my head and in doing so release your phallus with a loud ‘pop’ drenched and glistening with saliva, I crawl back to you. My legs once more straddling you, and with aching slowness I descend upon you. Your hands are at my hips guiding me pushing me to go lower until every inch of you is snug and thick within me. 
“Lealin!” Yes! Only my name upon those lips, only I could make you cry with need, only I can please you to the point of shattering. I move the effort is sluggishly erotic, bringing pleasure to us both. My body begins to shake. My thighs vibrate against your ribcage, feels so damn good. With animalistic strength and speed, I find myself on my back and you glowering above me.
“This is where you belong,” and with a satisfied smirk at my startled face you swiftly thrust, and I forget my name with that one stroke. You do it again, and again, and again. My fingers claw at your back, I am sure those will leave marks. Surprisingly I am not at all affected by that. If this is my way of silently claiming you then I would gladly do it each and every night.  Soon I can no longer tell who is screaming. You fill me. Flood me, hot and wet, I take in your essence and it renews me.