Wicked Empress: The Onic Empire, Book 4 (11 page)

“Bithia, please.” He grabbed her arm, trying to pull her back, but the water-slick fabric allowed her to slip from his grasp.

Spinning back, facing him, Bithia lifted her head. “You were honest with me, so I shall be with you. I only wanted you to ensure you would teach Drahka. That is all. Play your silly games and think that you command me when you don’t. At any time, at any moment, I can have you cast out.” Turning on her heel, she strode away, this time her anger very real. Nothing blocked the flow of tears better than utter fury.

Viltori caught up to her, matching her pace. “I am the only one who can teach him,” he reminded her, his voice low yet pointed.

Bithia stopped short, sending him a step ahead of her before he stopped and turned back.

“It will not take forever to teach him. Once he is sufficiently trained, I will no longer be in need of your services.”

Chapter Eleven

Drahka had never felt more uncomfortable. Bithia’s servants had put clothing on him that was unlike anything he’d ever worn. Uncomfortably clinging, the fabrics rubbed his body so provocatively that simple movements aroused him. Everything, from the shirt, to the pants, to the calf-high boots, was crafted of crimson fabrics and leathers. Since he had no family color, he was dressed entirely in Bithia’s family color. When the servant turned him, facing him toward his reflection, his eyes widened in shock. Automatically he thrust his hands over his cock. The servant pushed them away, patiently explaining that what he wore was supposed to display his body. Drahka wanted to ask why, but the strangeness of his outfit left the words a jumble in his head. By the time he’d taken a few deep breaths and made some order out of his thoughts, the servants were gone.

Settling himself upon the edge of the bed he’d shared with Bithia caused him to shake his head. Already he understood that he’d done so many wrong things. Forcing her to hold still and thrusting into her without giving her body any teasing strokes were just two of the most egregious mistakes he’d made. He thanked his teacher for showing him a way that would please his chosen. Drahka couldn’t wait to try out what he’d learned tonight when they were alone. He did not want Viltori to join them again. Not after what he’d done today. Crushing the bedclothes into his fist, Drahka tried to remove the image of his teacher on his knees. Drahka tried desperately not to see his thick cock thrust between Viltori’s wanton lips. Against his will, he saw Viltori’s eyes open, gazing up at him, drilling the truth of their mutual longing into him like an accusation.

Leaping from the bed, Drahka paced across the white floor, his boots booming against the tile, then silent across the fur rugs. Back and forth he went, with his strides almost musical. He did not know how long he walked the length of her room. All he knew was that he was determined not to think of his teacher. Yet the more he tried not to think of Viltori, the more he thought of him. His gleaming golden hair, his glistening intelligent eyes, the firm way his lips wrapped around his shaft, tugging, pulling, begging Drahka to give to him everything he’d held back for so long.

Drahka more felt than heard the door open. When he looked over, Bithia strode in. Her crimson dress was wet, clinging to her form in a way that made his cock twitch. Behind her came Viltori. Drahka couldn’t help but notice his pants were wet. Dark brown fabric outlined his semi-hard cock. Looking from one to the other, he realized only the front of his teacher’s pants was wet and Bithia’s entire dress was soaked. It didn’t take much for him to realize his teacher had been pressed up against his chosen.

A muscle twitched in Drahka’s jaw. Earlier he’d told Viltori that in his tribe, any man could give to any woman, as long as she was willing to take, but Drahka discovered he did not like the idea of them together without him. But what made him turn away in embarrassment was he couldn’t decide if he was angrier that Bithia might want Viltori more than she wanted him, or that Viltori might want Bithia more than he wanted Drahka. If they wanted each other, they would have no need of him. Then where would Drahka be? Bithia said she would not kill him, and he believed her, but there would be nothing preventing her from sending him back to his tribe.

Knowing he should not think of his teacher that way did not help stop him from doing so. He’d enjoyed what his teacher had done. Wantonly he’d grasped the back of his head to hold him steady for his thrusts. Just as he’d been about to unleash a great gushing tide of satisfaction down the man’s throat, he’d pushed him away, horrified at his own perverse needs. What the elders said was true; there was a great wrongness in him. They were right to take away his name and shun him from the tribe. That he could find the mouth of a man as pleasurable as the glory of woman meant he was deeply disturbed.

Now, with the fury on Bithia’s face, and Viltori’s shamed expression, Drahka feared Viltori had confessed their transgression to her. Bithia would now uncover the whole truth about him, and why his tribe had willingly traded him away. They lost nothing in the exchange and gained greatly. What would she do when she found out they’d given her a man filled with such perversity his own tribe had disowned him?

When his chosen’s eyes met his, they widened a bit. As her gaze traveled along his body, a slow smile spread pleasure across her mouth, chasing her fury away. When her gaze fell upon his artfully displayed cock, her mouth changed into an O, as if she wished to wrap her lips around him again. Now in his mind he saw both of them on their knees, taking turns sucking his cock. Each wayward thought hardened him more, making him press against the fabric, which in turn caressed him, hardening him further. If he couldn’t control himself, he’d climax just standing still.

“You look wonderful,” Bithia said, crossing the room to him. She leaned carefully up, keeping her wet clothing from touching his, and kissed his mouth. He like this way of greeting and kissed her back. Perhaps his thoughts were wrong and Viltori had not told her what happened. His next concern became what had angered her so?

“What happened?” Diolans had some odd customs, but wearing wet clothing probably wasn’t one of them.

Bithia cast a quick, meaningful glance to Viltori that made it clear whatever had happened was his fault. “Your teacher has an odd idea of what is funny.”

Viltori couldn’t meet Drahka’s gaze, which caused his chest to tighten unbearably. Drahka did not want to lose his teacher. He’d been angry earlier, but that was only to hide his fear. What they did could harm them both, which, ironically, made the entire scenario more appealing. Somehow, they had to find a way to avoid being alone together where that type of touching could happen again, because it was now clear that Viltori wanted him just as much as he wanted Viltori. What a mess they would make of things if Bithia found out. Perhaps, if he stumbled more with Diolan language, Bithia would have to keep Viltori near to teach him, but not too close where Drahka would be tempted.

“It was an accident,” Viltori explained, keeping his head down.

“No, it wasn’t.” Bithia struggled to remove her wet clothing and Drahka stepped forward to help. Although, he did like the way the wet fabric clung to her breasts, tightening her nipples, making them stand out like hard little peaks. Still, she was shivering and he did not wish for his chosen to suffer even a tiny bit. Each time they tried to work the fastener apart, it slipped from their fingers. As the moments passed, Bithia began to shake and her lips turned blue.

“Let me.” Viltori stepped between them. Rather than grasping the tab with his fingers, he used his teeth. With one smooth motion, he tugged the fastener down from below her arm to her hip. As soon as he let go, her dress fell to the floor, revealing that she wore nothing below.

Drahka and Viltori both caught their breath. Seeing her completely bare, her body brushed with tiny bumps that echoed the hard tips of her breasts, was profoundly exciting. The moment spun out as they stood there silently looking at her. Gazes sliding sideways, each man caught the eye of the other, wordlessly confirming their mutual decision.

“Whatever you had planned for tonight, Bithia, you are going to be late.” Viltori used that voice, like the one in the mirrored room today, that commanding voice that sent shivers down Drahka’s spine just as it surely did Bithia’s. His was the voice of an elder, a tone that couldn’t be denied, issuing commands that must be obeyed.

“We are already late. I will change and you—”

She tried to brush past them, but Drahka grasped one arm while Viltori grabbed the other.

“What are you doing?”

With unspoken agreement, they moved her toward the bed, her question ignored.

“We cannot be any later than we already are.” Bithia struggled, but the two of them were far stronger. “It’s a celebration of our bonding!”

Drahka didn’t care. They would have a much more private, and far more beneficial, celebration right here.

Further protests echoed off the glittering white walls as they pushed her onto the bed. So stunned was she that she lay there looking up at them for a long moment before she even thought of trying to crawl away. By the time the idea occurred to her, Viltori was on the bed, pulling her up into his lap so he could hold her in his arms. Viltori would keep her from struggling or escaping.

Watching her watching him, Drahka began to undo all the work her servants had put into dressing him. Off came the formfitting shirt. Off slipped the great booming boots. Gone too were the clinging pants that displayed every muscle from his ankles to his butt. All that remained was the odd scrap of fabric that cupped his cock and balls, lifting them up, placing them out from his body.

“It’s called an
echalle.
” Viltori nodded to the last of Drahka’s outfit. “Only a consort can wear one.”

“And how do you know of it?” Drahka thought it curious Viltori had chosen to speak in Oughunian. Perhaps he wished to increase Bithia’s unease by speaking in a language she could not understand.

“Rown, a servant, has told me far too much about them. Rown served the empress before Bithia, and he had to dress her consort.” A funny smile twitched the edge of Viltori’s lips, making Drahka wonder what else this Rown had done for his master. Was this male-to-male touching common here on Diola? If it was, they had used great care to keep the truth from him until now.

“What is the purpose?” Drahka struggled to release himself from the complicated series of straps, but he could not remember the precise order.

“To display your cock to the citizens of Diola.” Viltori tried to hold back his amusement but couldn’t. Drahka realized he wasn’t laughing at him, but at his dilemma of having his genitals in bondage. “All should look upon you and be jealous of what only the empress can have.” Viltori motioned him up onto the bed. Drahka climbed up and drew close, already knowing what would happen.

Just as he predicted, Viltori slid his hands along the straps, slowly freeing him from the confining garment, but in doing so, he had to touch him, which aroused him, sending him into another spiral of shame. Sensing his discomfort, Viltori moved as quickly as he could, touching him only when he had to. Once he freed him, he tossed the
echalle
off the bed.

Bare, Drahka looked down into Bithia’s expectant face. She’d watched the way Viltori touched him, and she sensed Drahka’s response. To his great relief, she said nothing. But something in her eyes was different. Hot coals of desire had cooled, not to ashes, but it would take more fuel and strong work to bring her back to a burning fire. No matter what he had to do, Drahka swore he would show her that everything he did was for her. Drahka wanted Bithia to look at him with the same heat she did Viltori. He wanted her to follow his commands as she did his. Drahka wanted to master her. Not in all things, just here, in this way. If he could command her here, he would happily let her command everywhere else. However, Drahka realized he needed Viltori’s help. Alone, he would not know the words to say, the orders to give. To please his chosen, he would have to first master his longings for his teacher.

As he considered her upon the bed, her upper body comfortably held by Viltori, Drahka didn’t know where to start.

“Climb back off the bed, stand at the edge.”

Drahka did as instructed.

“Grasp her ankles in your fists,” Viltori said in Oughunian. “Let her feel the power in your hands as you open your fists and slide your hands up her legs, pushing them apart as you go.”

Drahka followed Viltori’s instructions, watching how Bithia’s lips parted with pleasure. It seemed once she realized she would not be free until they were finished with her, Bithia relaxed and let Drahka do whatever Viltori told him to do.

Lazily Viltori cupped her breasts, pressing them together, then flicking his thumbs across her nipples. His hands were pale against the darkness of her flesh. All the while Drahka drew his hands up her legs, loving the feel of her skin, which was still a bit cold, but growing warmer with each passing moment. As he reached the juncture of her thighs, he pushed her legs out and up, opening her to his inspection. Viltori tossed him several pillows to place under her bottom to lift her up, making her position more comfortable.

Following Viltori’s explicit instructions, Drahka lowered his face to her sex. What he’d felt earlier with his hand he now explored with his eyes. Again, his teacher named the parts of her glory, from her lips, to her clit, to the entrance of her cunt. This last he said in Diolan, for he wanted Bithia to hear that word; cunt, not glory, as Drahka had always thought. Drahka memorized the words, repeating them as he stroked each part in turn, then brought his face so close he almost touched her and said, “Your sweet, hot cunt.”

Bithia squirmed and parted her legs wider.

“That’s it, my lady, show him how pleased you are by what he’s learned. Let him look at that luscious cunt of yours.” Viltori leaned over her, kissing her as he continued to tease her breasts. Between kisses, he gave further instructions on how Drahka should go about tormenting his chosen.

Starting with the heat of his breath, he caressed the entire area between her legs by repeating the words Viltori gave him. Each word sparked a different response in Bithia, bringing her higher into ecstasy. Once he’d warmed her with his breath and words, Viltori whispered something in his native tongue that Drahka at first resisted doing. On the verge of saying the action was wrong, he closed his mouth, lowered his face and followed his teacher’s instructions.