Another story was first posted at Pink Chair Diaries.Again, the rule was just that I needed to feature a bright pink blow up plastic chair with a dildo fastened in the middle of the seat.

PCD is down as I write this and while I’m sure they’ll get back up and running, in the meantime, here’s Patrick and Linnie.

WARNING: NOT SAFE FOR WORK!

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©2008 Jet Mykles, all rights reserved

“There you are!”

Patrick looked up from the toolbox, distracted from his search for his favorite socket wrench. There, in the open front of his workshop stood Linnie, his insane next-door neighbor. Okay, maybe she wasn’t insane, but she was one of those people who wasn’t far from it. She sure was pretty to look at, though, especially when, as currently, she was wearing tight little cut-off shorts and one of those stretchy, shiny tank tops in vivid orange. The tank hugged her gorgeous little breasts just perfectly and the cheerleader legs extending from those shorts had starred in more than one of his late night fantasies.

Tossing back her loose wealth of nearly crimson curls, she hurried toward him, her flip-flops slapping on the cement floor. Her little hands reached out to grab his arm, heedless of the sawdust that coated the hair on his arm. “I need your help.” Her big green eyes were wide with concern.

Unthinking, he grabbed her elbow. “What’s wrong?”

She tugged his arm. “Come with me.”

He hurried after her, so caught up that he barely paused to enjoy the sway of her rounded ass as she led him through the break in the hedges between their houses and into her side door. Evidently, no one else was home, which wasn’t odd for a Saturday afternoon. Her sister, with whom she lived, worked down near the beach and frequently didn’t get home until after sundown on the weekends.

“Linnie, what’s wrong?” he asked as she hurried through the kitchen to the hall and the green carpeted stairs that led up to the bedrooms. Although he’d been in the house many times, he hadn’t ventured into the upper regions of the house for many years. Not since they were kids. That had been no man’s land since he’d hit puberty, a rule laid down by Linnie and Debbie’s father.

“Come,” she insisted, beckoning him from halfway up the staircase before she disappeared completely.

Helpless, he grabbed the banister, took a deep breath, and followed. Mr. Tanner didn’t live in the house anymore but the ominous parental presence lingered in Patrick’s mind. But, he’d never been able to deny Linnie when she needed his help. When he reached the top, he was assaulted with the smells of an all female household. Competing floral scents poured out of the open door of the pink bathroom to his left and a pall of vanilla clouded his senses from a potpourri dish on a delicate glass table on the landing.

“In here,” her voice came from an open door through which he only saw cream colored carpeting and the dark orange corner of a frilly bed.

Her bedroom. He knew that. He’d been in it before, when they were kids, when the walls had been wallpapered with pink bunnies. Her window was also directly across from the guest bedroom of his house. He’d never admit to it aloud, but during high school he’d had occasion to creep into the dark room at night with hopes of glimpsing her. He’d occasionally been rewarded and those images had fueled fantasies for years. Steeling himself, he took the steps that brought him to the threshold of heaven. The sight before him was odd enough that it took him a confused moment to figure it out.

Linnie sat cross-legged in the middle of her carpet, her back to the window that poured bright sunlight down on her hair, making the curls bloody red as they spilled over her bare shoulders. She had a mass of hot pink, see-through plastic in her hands that looked like one of those blow-up toys, half inflated. The pouting look she gave him would have rivaled any two year old’s. “I popped it. Can you fix it for me?”

Like a moth to the flame of those curls, he carefully stepped toward her, conscious of the dusty state of his workboots and the sweaty smell of himself. Seemed downright sacrilegious to be walking in her bedroom in such a state, but her helpless entreaty drew him. Easing down on his knees, he held out his hand. “What is it?”

She shoved the plastic into his grasp. “My chair.”

Curious, he turned over the plastic. “What’re you doing with a kid’s blow-up chair?”

“It’s not a kid’s chair,” she muttered.

A lot of the pink stuff remained in her lap as he studied it. A section of it seemed heavier than the rest, but he figured that was a lump of the plastic all stuck together. “Do you know where it burst?”

She grappled the plastic, turning it over some more until she found the spot. “There.” Along one of the seams, a tear had started. “Can you fix it?”

He reached up to scratch his skull, stopping when he saw the dust scattering from his short blond hair. “I think we’ve got some of those patches out back. The kind that come with pool rafts.”

Eagerly, she nodded. “Will that work?”

He shrugged. “It should. Won’t be the same color, tho.”

“That’s okay. Oh, can we go check?”

“Sure.”

Gathering the plastic to her chest and cradling like a darling pet, she stood. Unless he wanted to sit there and ogle her smooth, bare legs–which he did, but he shouldn’t–he had no choice but to stand and walk out of heaven with the prettiest of angels following at his heels.

He had her wait for him in the den while he want to the small shack out back to one corner of the pool. Took him a bit, but he found a dusty patch kit, still sealed in its own plastic, and brought it back to the sunny room that faced the pool. She again sat on the floor with the plastic in her lap, idly flipping through channels on the television. When he got back, she promptly turned it off.

“Evelyn’s not here?” she asked, thrusting the plastic into his lap when he sat on the rug before her.

“She’s staying with Ma this weekend,” he said, setting the patch down on the rug beside him as he turned over the plastic to look for the hole. “She…”

His world froze. He finally figured out why one part of the chair was oddly heavy. Not all of it was the inflatable plastic. One part of it was cylindrical, about seven inches long and an inch and a half around, made of hard plastic. Rounded at the end. Shape was familiar. It couldn’t be what he was thinking.

He heard her giggle but couldn’t tear his eyes from the thing in his lap. “Now you know why I couldn’t get anyone else to help me with this.”

He swallowed. “Is that…?”

“A dildo. Yeah.”

A dildo. A big, hard, pink dildo, complete with molded veins, stuck to what looked like the seat of her chair. “What…?”

Another giggle. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her rock back, hands gripping her knees so that she rolled back forward like a weeble. “It’s my favorite-ist chair in the world. Please fix it for me.”

Stunned, he raised his gaze to look at her. She beamed at him.

He’d known Linnie most of his life. She was one of his sister Evelyn’s best friends and their parents were as close as people could be. She and her sister had lived next door to them for years. Like he and his sister, they had continued to live in their parents’ house when both sets of parents had decided to live in one of those swanky old folks’ communities. He had always harbored a crush for Linnie. He knew. She knew. Everyone knew. But he kept it to himself and she never teased him about it.

Until now.

He frowned and looked back down at the plastic. Fine. Tamping his anger, he turned over the plastic, hiding the dildo from view. He knew she wasn’t a virgin. Lost it to that prick Howard Parks on prom night her senior year of high school. In the following two years, she’d hardly been a saint. He knew this even though he’d only recently moved back home to stay after living away during his four years of college. He wasn’t a virgin either and he could handle this.

Making no further comment, he found the rent in the plastic. He tore open the patch kit with his teeth and dumped the contents onto the rug while holding the pink mess in his lap. The dildo poked at his thigh, mocking him.

“Patrick?”

“Yeah?” He didn’t look at her, busy peeling the protective paper from the adhesive blue patch.

“You mad at me?”

“No. Why’d I be mad?”

“I dunno.” Her voice was soft. “You seem mad.”

“‘M not.”

She watched in silence as he carefully spread the patch over the hole. “Patrick?”

“It’s done.” Without meeting her eyes, he held the plastic out to her.

Pause. He glanced up to see her chewing on one corner of her plump bottom lip, a habit he’d always found heartbreakingly endearing. Her eyes were on his face, not on her toy, green irises darting back and forth as she studied him.

He shook the plastic at her. “Here.”

“Blow it up for me?”

“God damn it!” He threw the deflated chair to the rug and shoved to his feet. “Don’t tease me like this, Linnie.”

She scrambled up beside him, grabbing his arm. “Patrick, wait!”

“No.” He pulled his arm but she hung on like a kitten with its claws in his mother’s curtains. “I’ll put up with a lot from you but not this.”

“Wait!” Knowing he wouldn’t hurt her, she clung, winding both arms around his bicep to press it between her soft little breasts. “You’re getting this all wrong.”

“Let go, Linnie, I’m all sweaty and dirty.”

“I know.” Her breathy tone and half-closed eyes gave him pause. With a helpless little mewl, she dropped her forehead against his shoulder, which was as high up as she went when they were both standing. “God, I messed this all up.” She squeezed harder. “Patrick, I wasn’t meaning to tease you.”

“Coulda fooled me.”

“Okay, okay, I meant to tease you a little, but…” She hung on when he tried to pry away again, her head coming up so those amazing green eyes again held him spellbound. “Only at first. I want you, Patrick, I just…” she lost some of her nerve and ducked her head again, pressing her cheek to his bare arm, “I just wasn’t sure how to let you know.”

His thoughts just plain stopped, crashed into a wall like he’d seen in car testing videos. “What?”

She wiggled against him, making him aware that she’d managed to get her hips near his thigh. He wasn’t sure when she’d wrapped one slim ankle around his shin, but there it was. “I want you.” She inhaled deeply, moaning a little, “sweaty, dusty and all.”

A lock of her hair brushed the front of his tank top. “But…?” His gaze landed on the abandoned pink lump on the floor. “The chair?”

“A joke. Kinda. It is my favorite chair and I did burst it.” She wiggled again. “I was riding it, pretending it was you.”

His knees actually wobbled, nearly toppling them both over. Anxious, he reached out to grip the end of the couch to regain his balance. “What?”

One small, short nailed hand unwound from his arm and reached up to stroke the left side of his chest. The hair matted between tank and skin seemed to come alive at her touch, teasing him with sweet, soft warmth. “It’s true. I won it at Veronica’s bachelorette party last month. I’ve been riding it a lot, thinking it was you.”

He shook his head, reaching up to grip her wrist before she found his nipple. “You never told me.”

“‘Course not, silly. I was too embarrassed. But this afternoon, with everyone else gone, when it popped, I just…” She nuzzled his arm. “I’m sick of pretending it’s you. I want the real thing.”

“Linnie, if this is a joke, I’ll never forgive you.”

She finally let go of his arm and unwound her ankle so she could step around in front of him. “It’s not a joke.” He knew her serious face and that was the one she wore. Linnie had a joking streak in her, but she wasn’t cruel and he couldn’t believe that she’d hurt him that bad.

He still held her slim wrist. Without conscious thought, he used the hold to draw her in. Bending his neck, he brought his lips close to hers. His heart nearly burst to see her willingly tilt her head back, offering her mouth to his. “Linnie,” he breathed, closing the small distance to his soft destination.

Plush and warm, her lips parted beneath his, her tongue darting out to meet his. She tasted of strawberry lemonade and sweet woman. A delicious moan bled from her throat as she pressed into him, her free hand spanning over his heart as she tipped her head to the side to allow him better access. He took it, unconsciously wrapping a hand around her waist to pull her flush up against him. Her warm body felt oh so good against his, but the contact reminded him of the state of his own skin.

He pulled away and had to pry her hands from him when she whimpered and tried to stay in the kiss. “Linnie, stop. I’m filthy.”

She strained against the hands he had binding her wrists, a heavy fall of crimson hair falling over half her face as she struggled. “I don’t care.”

“I do.”

With a huff that sent the hair flying from her face, she stopped struggling. For a moment, she looked up at him, lust darkening her endless, emerald eyes. “I want you, Patrick. Now.”

He had to smile. “I want you too. But I want to be clean when we do this the first time.”

She actually shivered, grinning happily. “‘Kay. Can I watch you shower?”

“No.”

She pouted. “Why not?”

He felt the heated flush on his neck and cheeks and ducked his head. “Just… no.” Releasing her wrists, he stepped back.

Incorrigible, she stepped forward, pressing herself against him. This time one of those hot little hands pressed his cock through his jeans. “Mmmm, but you’re so sexy when you’re all dirty and sweaty.”

Hastily, he stumbled back. “Hey, stop that.”

Wearing an evil grin, she stalked him as he backed toward the hallway and the stairs. “Not a chance. I’m gonna eat you up.”

His eyes went wide. In all his imaginings of the many different ways she might eventually come to want him, this particular scenario wasn’t even close to matching them. Backed up against the bannister, he held out a hand, palm toward her. “Stop.”

She did, but looked ready to pounce. Her gaze raked him up and down, pausing significantly just below his belt buckle.

He swallowed in a dry throat. “I’m gonna go take a quick shower.”

She cocked and eyebrow, some wicked thought occurring to her. Seemingly obedient, she stood up, crossing her arms across her chest. “Okay. But make it fast.”

He grinned. “Yes, ma’am.” Hurriedly, he spun and took the stairs three at a time.

Stupid! He riled at himself as he grabbed a cleanish pair of jeans from the dresser drawer in his room and sped into the bathroom. She’ll be gone by the time you get out. But he meant what he said. Much as he wanted to take her before she changed her mind, he didn’t want to take her covered in cedar dust.

He washed as fast as he was able, but he’d been cutting wood for hours and was coated in a fine layer of dust and grime. He had to wash his short hair twice before it rinsed clean and he wouldn’t leave the shower stall until the water swishing down the drain at his feet was clear. At last he was done and he toweled off quickly. His skin was still damp when he jumped into his jeans, carefully tucking his raging hard on behind his button fly before he finally went to open the door.

All the blood rushed from his head into his cock at the sight he saw. “Jesus Christ!”

There she sat, naked, in the middle of his queen-sized bed. Her knees were bent, her back arched, her hands braced on the green and blue bedspread behind her feet. The pink chair, half inflated, was trapped between taut thighs. Her head was thrown back, crimson hair brushing her shins, as she rocked her hips. Mesmerized, he stepped toward her to get a better look at what little was visible of the pink dildo that was embedded within the prettier pink folds of her sex.

Her head came up and she regarded him through half closed eyes. “I couldn’t wait.”

Speechless, he took in the sight of her. He’d always known that his little angel was much more of a mischievous devil, but she was proving it to him now. Her pert little breasts swayed as she rocked, the surprisingly large rose-colored nipples swollen at the hard peaks. A fine sheen of sweat made her skin shine in the light from the window, sweet caramel where she was tanned and vanilla warm where her bikini had protected her more private parts. Private parts she now eagerly displayed for him.

Bracing her weight on one hand, she brought the other up and reached for him. “Patrick, help me.”

Swallowing, he knelt on the edge of the bed, hands hovering, unsure. “Help you what?”

She grinned. “Help me come.”

Delighted, he matched her grin. He made so bold as to reach out to take her hips in his hands, feeling the rock of her bones underneath his palms. “How do you want me to help you?”

Her hand latched onto his bare shoulder, fingers digging in. It was quickly followed by the other hand on his other shoulder so that he was now supporting most of her negligible weight. “Any way you want,” she gasped, jerking her hips hard. “Touch me.”

So many choices on where to start! He thought fast, then leaned into her. “Lay back.”

She let him lower her to her back, her head coming to rest in a cloud of crimson curls on his pillow. How many times had he wanted to see this? “Patrick!” she groaned when he hesitated too long.

“Sorry.” He braced over her, breathing softly over her lips. “You’re too beautiful. I have to look at you.”

She groaned, digging her fingernails into his shoulders. “Look later. Touch now!”

He grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

He kissed her, but realized right off the bat that while she liked it, that’s not what she wanted. It was actually really easy to read her. At least, he hoped he was reading her right. No way to tell but to do. She sure as hell would stop him if he went astray. He trailed wet kisses down her throat, tonging her fluttering pulse. He let his hands slide down her sides, back to her still rocking hips. Her knees were fully bent, her heels up by her butt, but she was clearly comfortable. It reminded him of her cheerleader days, which just made him harder. He was really touching her! He was tasting the hollow of her throat. She was letting him nibble at the swell of one sweetly fragrant breast and she moaned, grabbing his head when he finally reached a nipple. Linnie’s nipple. In his mouth. Linnie’s little body, writing beneath him.

Linnie’s hips, riding a pink dildo. Okay, he had to fix that part.

In a second. First, the other nipple, a little candied nub between his teeth. Who knew she’d shake like that if he batted at it with his tongue? Would she do that when he sucked on her clit? Only one way to find out. Eager, he tried to contain himself as he left her breast and licked a path down her softly rounded belly to the neatly trimmed curls above her sex. Much darker here, a few shades lighter than her natural brown. Not that he didn’t like the red, but he ached with pleasure to nuzzle her here, inhaling her scent over the smell of the plastic and latex. Nose buried in curls, he lapped down with his tongue, nudging the hood that protected her clit.

Her hips jerked, a moan tearing from her throat.

Smiling, he spread his palms on her thighs and pressed them farther open. He took a moment to watch the thick pink invader slip a little from her folds, bringing with it a wash of fragrant wet. Her clit burst forth from his protective hood, shiny and swollen and begging for his kiss. Who was he to deprive it? Savoring the moment, he pursed his lips and slowly sucked her in.

Small, strong fingers combed through his hair. “Paaaatriiiick!”

Now that was music for his soul. He thanked her for it by lapping at her swollen nub, drinking in her juices.

“Oh, God, yes! Patrick, yes!” She writhed underneath him but the position of her legs kept her mostly trapped.

He kept his hands on her thighs and angled his head, making a meal of her. After a moment of tasting, he growled and reached down to pull out the dildo.

“Ungh!” she protested.

He tossed the plastic aside, heedless of her cry. With demanding hands, he moved her legs, bending her knees properly so he could settle between her thighs and angle her hips in order to get his whole mouth over her weeping sex.

“Oh, yes!”

Her thighs pressed his cheeks, her heels digging into the middle of his back. Desperate hands shoved in his hair. He was aware of all this on the outskirts of his thoughts but his attention was centered on the delicacy in his mouth and the sweet, swollen tissues he explored with his tongue.

“Patrick, God! Patrick, yes!”

A flood of warmth bathed his tongue as he wormed it as far as he could into her clutching center. He had to hold her hips had as she thrashed beneath him, crying out and scratching the back of his neck. The barely suppressed screams of her orgasm spurred him on and he was determined that he was going to devour her until she made him stop.

Which she eventually did. After two shaking climaxes, she clutched his hair, yanking. “Stop.”

Her breathless plea made his heart pound. No, his heart had been pounding, supplying blood to the neglected erection he pressed into the mattress. Looking up, he was mesmerized by the haphazard fall of red curls over one side of her face, the one green eye he could see simmering with lust.

She sat up, forcing him to his knees. Cupping his jaw, she wiped at her juices covering his skin and guided his lips to hers. He groaned when she lapped at his lips, tasting herself. “Fuck me,” she whispered. Licking him, kissing him, she drew away to demand it again. “Fuck me, Patrick.”

Hearing the growl in his own throat, he pulled away. “God, I hope I have a condom.”

As he stood, hands at the waistband of his jeans, she rolled over toward the edge of the bed. He shucked his jeans and she snatched up her shorts. Quick fingers dug a packet our of one of her pockets. “I’ve got condoms,” she announced triumphantly, sitting up. Her gaze dropped to his cock. “Oh man!”

Pride swelled his dick further, making it twitch and stand just a little bit more.

“Oh man,” she continued to stare, dropping the condoms on the bed beside her. “Have I been missing that all this time?”

“Yep.” Grinning, he knelt on the bed and picked up one of the packets.

She reached out to wrap a hand around his cock, making him pause. “How stupid am I?”

He had no answer for her other than a sigh of appreciation as she stroked him.

“I’m sorry, Patrick,” she whispered, lips brushing the hair over his right nipple. “I’m sorry I made you wait.” She lapped at his nipple. “I promise to make it up to you.”

Heart swelling to match his cock, he wrapped his arms around her, needing to hold her close, not quite believing she was real.

She held him back, nuzzling his chest, stroking his cock. Not until he felt the coolness of latex at the tip of his cock did he realize that she’d picked up the other condom and was smoothing it on him. When he looked down at her, she smiled, nipped his chin, then leaned back out of his embrace. He let her go, watching her sink back into his pillows. She held out her arms. “I want you inside me.”

Eager to comply, he lowered himself over her, settling into the cradle of her hips. Reaching down, he settled his cock at her entrance. In his fantasies, he’d never been quite sure that her tiny body could accommodate him. After seeing her with the dildo, he knew she’d have no problem. Watching her face, watching her watch him, he eased into her in one, slow push. Pleasure flushed her cheeks and shuttered her eyes, but she kept them open, matching his smile as they finally became one.

“You feel so good,” she sighed, wrapping her legs around his waist.

“So do you.”

She wound her arms around his neck, drawing him in. “Make me fly, Patrick.”

Groaning, he had to force aside many memories of when they were kids and he’d swung her around by the arms. That was certainly not what she meant now!

He pulled back and thrust in again, swallowing her squeal and topping it with a groan of his own. Her hands cupped the back of his head, her breasts crushed beneath his chest. He cradled her back with his hands, holding her firmly while pushing his cock to the hilt in her warmth. She met him thrust for thrust, proving all over again that she was stronger and more sturdy than she looked. She growled and clawed, spitting like a cat and throwing her head back when he evidently hit a good spot. “More!” she demanded and he gave her all he could, bracing his legs so he could slam into her like he always wanted. He was grunting like an animal but that was okay because she was growling like one. When she came, she clutched at him with arms, legs and pussy, swallowing him as best her little body could. It was plenty to force his poor helpless cock to burst and spill its load into the condom’s reservoir tip.

He collapsed, panting, atop her, holding himself on his elbows as best he could to avoid smothering her. She made it difficult, though, pulling him down, whimpering until he finally gave in and let her have his weight. Grunting like a happy little piglet, she wiggled and wrapped him in warmth, smoothing her hands over his back.

“Patrick.”

“Huh?”

She giggled. “You’re better than my favorite chair.”

WARNING: graphic sex, lighter non-con and a little bit of m/m

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Ryun led the way back to his rooms, Aiden following with Nera bundled underneath his arm. No one spoke and Nera suspected Ryun’s angry presence was what cut a swath through the people in the corridors.

Miyn was there when they entered but wisely stayed silent and melted aside as Ryun stormed through the door. As he angrily yanked off his jerkin and boots, Aiden led Nera to sit on the wide bed. Aiden remained quiet and wouldn’t meet her gaze as he slid the cloak from her shoulders. He did reach up to smooth her loose hair and gave her a small, sympathetic pat on the shoulder as he rose and turned to face his master.

“Why wasn’t she branded?” In an explosion of movement, Ryun grabbed Miyn by the neck and slammed her against the wall.

Nera’s whimper was louder than Miyn’s and only Aiden’s hand on her shoulder kept her from leaping toward the other woman.

“My lord, I’m sorry.” Miyn’s voice was strangled, her body pliant.

Aiden stepped forward. “Ryun, stop.”

His use of Ryun’s given name startled Nera but not anyone else.

Ryun glared over his shoulder at the other man. “It’s all her fault.”

“No. We should have gotten Nera branded immediately yesterday. Miyn’s only fault is being kind hearted.”

With a growl, Ryun shoved Miyn into the wall to make her cry out, then released her to round on Aiden. “What’s your excuse? It’s your duty to see to my needs.”

Aiden stood his ground and spoke calmly. “And your needs demanded you fuck a virgin girl for hours on end. She was exhausted and worn out. Miyn’s a healer. Naturally she’d think the girl should sleep.”

Miyn knelt, cowering by the wall. Nera sat, speechless. The two men now stood toe to toe, displaying that Aiden was every bit as tall as Ryun if not nearly as wide. He showed no fear when faced with the bigger man. Like day and night they were. Aiden’s loose, shining gold hair and pale skin such a contrast to Ryun’s dark skin and raven hair. Aiden’s calm to Ryun’s flaming passion.

“Not to mention food,” Aiden continued. “Unless I miss my guess, your pet hasn’t eaten since last night.”

Still scowling, Ryun blinked. Nera ducked her head when he turned his head to look at her. “Is that true?”

Pulling her thighs together to guard her sex, she barely managed to keep her arm from rising to cover her breasts, thinking that might anger him further. She nodded.

He growled. Nera glanced up just in time to see him rounding on Miyn and bending to cuff her on the side of the head. “You are going to the guards.”

“No!” Nera cried before she could think better of it. She managed not to cringe when Ryun whirled on her. “Please. M-master.”

His eyes narrowed over her stuttering of the title.

“Please, master. Don’t take Miyn away.”

As, he approached her, she remained on her knees, her face down. His thighs looked very thick and muscular when they came into view.

“Become attached to her, have you?”

Amazed at her own boldness, Nera reached out to lay a hand on his thigh. She managed to meet his gaze although the hard look there made her tremble. “Please.”

He caught her wrist and hauled her to her feet. Startled, she fell against him, her breasts pressing into the soft leather of his jerkin.

“You have caused me a lot of trouble.” He speared his hand in her hair, bringing her face close to his. “You had better be worth it.”

Aiden appeared at their side and lay one hand on her shoulder, the other on his. “My lord, please. I must insist.”

Ryun allowed Aiden to put some distance between them but kept his hand in her hair. “You must insist? That’s rich.”

Aiden worked at Ryun’s fingers through her hair. “If you don’t calm down, you’re going to hurt her and if she’s not yours…”

“Damn it!” Ryun yanked his hand free and strode away.

Aiden met Nera’s wide eyes with a sympathetic look and patted her cheek.

“Damn, Scarn! And damn…” Ryun’s voice trailed off in a mutter. He hovered over Miyn. “Go. Get food for your mistress. And be quick about it.”

Miyn jumped to her feet and fled.

Ryun headed after her with a purposeful stride. “Get her cleaned up and fed, Aiden. I need to arrange for additional guards on these rooms.”

So great was the release of tension once Ryun left the rooms that Nera’s knees gave out. With a small whimper, she collapsed onto the bed and succumbed to a fit of trembling.

“Nera.”

Aiden’s soft voice as he knelt beside her unlocked the tears that shock and disbelief had held at bay. The weight of what had happened to her descended on Nera in a wave and she crumbled beneath it. Murmuring softly, Aiden sat beside her and gathered her close. His body was not the shape and size she was accustomed to for comfort, but she gladly took what was offered.

******

“Pleasure slaves are generally well cared for,” Aiden explained.

They sat at a small table on the balcony beside the bedroom. Miyn had been invited to sit but she insisted on kneeling beside the table after she’d finished setting out the food. Nera noted that she kept one wary eye toward the door, probably for Ryun’s return. A huge purple bruise marked one side of her face.

Nera’s sobbing had ceased before Miyn’s return but she still felt shaky. Aiden’s calm helped. He took a bite of the roll in his hand, surprisingly dainty for a man. “But all slaves are subject to the whims of their master. By not allowing Ryun to brand you, the sharif has afforded you some measure of protection. Any man who permanently damages you will be made to pay. That is if you brought charges and could prove it.”

“Brought charges?”

He waved toward her plate, encouraging her to eat. “If anyone were to harm you, you could go to the magistrate or to the sharif himself and make an accusation.” He shrugged, dusting crumbs from his hands. “Of course, you’d have to prove how you were harmed and that is sometimes difficult. But the sharif seems to have taken an interest in you so the threat of his displeasure should keep you relatively safe.”

She spooned more savory stew into her mouth, trying to digest what he was telling her.

“You are, however, still subject to whomever can hold you. The sharif has nominally given you charge of your body, but you have nothing else and no other protection.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s all right. I doubt the sharif will let things stand for long. There’s no one else who’s likely to take you from Ryun except Scarn and Scarn’s never taken a lasting interest in any slave, let alone a woman. Eventually, the sharif will either let Ryun have you or claim you himself.”

There was too much information being thrown at her. “May I ask…”

“Go ahead.”

“Do you know… why Prince Scarn… did what he did to me?”

“I don’t know for sure, but –” Aiden’s green eyes scanned the distant horizon as the breeze wafted through his loose hair, “– I have what could be considered a good guess.” He took a breath. “As you may have noticed, Ryun and Scarn are not on the best of terms.”

She nodded.

He glanced at her late. “Nera, if you don’t eat, I won’t answer your questions.” His voice was gentle but firm.

Obediently, she bent her head over and scooped up more stew.

“That’s better. I’m afraid they are constantly after whatever the other possesses. We should have realized that you would be a target for Scarn.” He sighed and looked down, plucking at the pristine embroidery at the front of his robes. “Also, Scarn would have guessed that Ryun might not have taken you where he did.”

She flushed, swallowed. “I didn’t know that was possible.”

“I’d imagine not, given your upbringing.” He folded his hands in his lap. “But what was done to you is common for men to do with male pleasure slaves.”

Nera stared in shock. “Men with men?”

“Yes.”

“But… why?”

He smiled. “Did your priestesses never have contact with each other?”

She blinked, blushed. “I’ve… well, but…”

“Ah. So the innocent is not as innocent as we’d thought?”

“No! I mean, it was never… never anything like…”

“It’s all right, Nera. I very much doubt that life in the temple of Buir reached the debauchery of this palace.” He sighed. “Suffice it to say that the men here will fuck both women and men in many and varied ways. You’ll soon grow accustomed to it.”

She ate a few more bites in silence. “Are you a pleasure slave?”

That gained her a look.

“I’m sorry.”

“No. Don’t be sorry. I’m merely surprised you asked.” He smiled. “Yes. I’m Ryun’s chief pleasure slave.”

She still couldn’t imagine two men together, but after what Scarn had done to her… “For… long?”

He reached for the wine carafe to refill his. “How long have I been with Ryun? Nearly seven years now. And, before you ask, yes, he does to me what Scarn did to you.”

She blinked at her empty bowl, not wanting to picture it but fascinated nonetheless.

“I’ll further confuse you by letting you know that I enjoy it.”

Startled, she looked up. “Enjoy…?”

The look he gave her was sad. “It’s a little different for men than it is for women. And what was done to you was forced so naturally it hurt. Believe it or not, he was actually very careful with you.”

She couldn’t believe that. “Doesn’t it hurt you?”

“Not anymore.” He sipped without taking his eyes from her. “In time, you’ll get used to it.”

She felt a tear well at the corner of her eye.

He sat forward, setting down his glass. His voice was sympathetic but he spoke in plain terms. “The fact of the matter is, this is your life now, Nera. The sooner you can get accustomed to it, the better off you’ll be.”

“Why me?”

“At first, because you were a prize, a symbol of a conquest. Now, with the way your body reacts when you’re touched intimately…” He shook his head. “Now you’re an anomaly. Now you’re special. That’s both to your advantage and disadvantage.”

“Am I so different?”

“I’m afraid so. The way your body reacts is far more like a woman at the height of passion rather than a woman being raped. Your protest can be heard clearly but anyone watching or touching you can see your body craving more.”

She widened her eyes, horrified. “Truly?”

“Truly. And the fact you don’t know it just makes you all the more intriguing.” He cocked his head to the side. “Do you think the other priestesses will be able to tell the sharif anything? Are they like you?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t know I was different until I came here.”

Aiden sat forward. “I suspect if the sharif learns anything, we’ll know soon enough. Finished?”

Nera nodded.

Without a word, Miyn rushed forward to begin stacking plates on a tray. Nera reached out to squeeze her arm and received a brief, sad smile in response.

“Nera, you’ll need to get ready,” Aiden said, standing. “Ryun will be back soon and I doubt his mood will have improved.”

She stood and followed him from the sunlit heat of the balcony to the shadowed cool of the bedroom. “What should I do?”

Aiden stood at the foot of the bed, thinking. “Naked on the bed, I think. Be ready for him to fuck you and hope he’s not drunk. Maybe he’ll make it fast then return to his own rooms.”

“His own… Isn’t this…?”

“No. He has his own suite. This is actually yours.”

She froze. “My…?”

“At least for now. He’d intended to make you the first of his harem and these rooms are for his harem.”

She gazed about. “What about you?”

“He chooses to have me sleep in his bed. Besides, I’m not part of his harem.”

“Why?”

“The first members of a man’s harem are expected to bear children.” There was a flash of what looked like sadness that washed over his face, but it was just as quickly gone. He waved toward the privy corner. “Go and see to your needs. Now, while you’ve time. Miyn, hurry.”

******

When darkness fell and Ryun had not yet returned, Aiden left to find him.

Nera lay in the huge expanse of bed, gazing up at the way the candlelight played through the gossamer gold and blue hangings overhead. After a few silent moments, she sat up, holding a sheet to her breasts. “Miyn?”

The other woman’s voice rose from the darkness. “Yes?”

“Could you… come and sit with me?”

The small woman’s silhouette approached. “Are you sure?”

Nera edged toward the side of the bed. “Yes. Please.”

Hesitantly, Miyn sat, just beyond arm’s length away. Her loosely plaited hair hung down her back. “I shouldn’t be here when my lord returns.” She folded her hands primly in her lap, her profile to Nera. “He won’t want to see me.”

Scooting closer, Nera smoothed a hand over Miyn’s shoulder. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

“I’m so sorry you were hurt because of me.”

Miyn shook her head. “No. It was my fault. I made bad decisions. It was me who got you hurt. I’m sorry.”

“No, please, don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.” She slid her hand down Miyn’s arm to find one of the hands in her lap. Lacing their fingers together, she squeezed. “Thank you.”

Miyn finally looked at her, dark eyes wide. She opened her mouth to say something but was cut off when the suite’s outer door clicked open. In a rush, she hurried from the bed and back into the darkness beyond the candlelight.

Ryun strode in, headed straight for the bed. Aiden followed at his heels, catching the jerkin that Ryun ripped off and tossed aside. Nera shrank back into the pillows against the wall, unable to judge the prince’s mood. His face, when she could finally see it, looked calm but he wore an intensity that belied serenity.

He stopped at the foot of the bed and bent to remove his boots. “Aiden, strip.”

Aiden stared at the back of his master’s head for a split second before handing the jerkin to Miyn and reaching for the buttons of his own robe.

Ryun kept his gaze on Nera. “Since you’ve taken to Aiden, I’ll have him join us.”

She clutched the sheet to her chin, astonished gaze going to Aiden’s now bare chest shining pale and luminous in the dim lighting.

“Beautiful, isn’t he?” There was a softness beneath the harsh tone of Ryun’s voice, making Nera believe that he truly did think Aiden was beautiful.

He turned and they both watched as the floor length skirt Aiden wore beneath his robe fell to his feet, leaving him fully naked. Pale all over, the curls at the base of his soft sex just a few shades darker than the gold on his head, he looked like a piece of sunlight made flesh. He tossed his hair behind his shoulder, standing unashamed before them, his eyes locked with Ryun’s.

Ryun gestured to the bed. “Lie down with her.”

Gracefully, Aiden knelt on the bed. His gaze met hers as he crawled toward her. She read assurance there. He couldn’t stop what was about to happen, but she felt better for his presence. Safer. He reached her side and gently tugged the sheet from her. She let it go, let him bare her to the room.

“Nice.” Ryun’s pants dropped to the floor. Unlike Aiden, his organ was mostly erect, dark and flushed red. “I should have thought of this yesterday.”

Aiden lowered to one hip and glanced sidelong at his master. “Yes. You should have.”

“What’s this?” Ryun knelt on the bed and crawled toward them. “Are you jealous?”

“Hardly.” Aiden slid one hand sensuously over his upper thigh.

Ryun chuckled. “Yes. You have treats Nera can’t offer.” He palmed Aiden’s soft sex and squeezed.

Aiden’s head tilted up, his eyes shuttering. But the look that came over his face was anything but pained.

Nera yelped when Ryun’s free hand wrapped around the back of her neck and pulled her to her knees and closer. “What? No shock?” Her forehead met his, nose one nose. She had to span one palm over his heart for balance. His breath fanned her face, heavy with the scent of spirits. He was drunk. “No protests?”

She swallowed. This close, she could sense the anger that simmered beneath his seemingly calm surface. Better to do what he wanted, no matter how it scared her. “N-no, master.”

He purred and tilted his head the better to brush his lips with hers. “I approve. Aiden, you’re a miracle worker.” His lips moved up her jaw to just below her ear.

“Thank you, my lord.”

Nera could glance down to see Ryun’s hand still on Aiden’s organ, massaging it. Aiden saw her watching and nodded encouragement.

After thoroughly exploring her ear with his tongue, Ryun tightened his grip on her hair and used it to force her head to the bend of his neck. “Kiss me here.”

She stared at his skin, so dark and hot. This close, she could see his thudding pulse. Tentatively, she pressed her lips to it.

“Good.” His fingers massaged her scalp, threatening. “More.”

Unsure what she was doing, Nera pressed her lips down the column of his neck, going where his hand guided her. When they reached his nipple within it’s light dusting of hair, he stopped her. “Open your mouth and suck on it.”

Trembling, her hands braced on his chest for balance, she did as he demanded, taking the hard, tiny bud between her lips. An odd feeling that stirred an odd thrill in her belly. Was that part of what Aiden had been taking about? One of her “strange” reactions?

“Hmm, you’ll have to work on that.”

He released her hair and crawled forward. She stayed kneeling as he turned and sat himself beside Aiden, his back supported by the abundance of purple and gold pillows. His organ was fully engorged and jutting upright and out from its nest of curls.”Now –” he beckoned to her with one hand and slid the other arm around Aiden’s shoulders, “– you’ll learn to suck cock.” He spread his knees.

Despite her decision to do what he wanted, she froze. What did he want her to do?

Ryun’s scowl had just started when Aiden scooted down his side. “Lie here, Nera –” he pointed between Ryun’s thighs, “on your belly.”

When she stared at him in shock, he nodded. As she obeyed him, he wrapped the fingers of one hand around the base of Ryun’s organ. He glanced up at Ryun. “You’ll forgive if we don’t try anything fancy?”

The scowl smoothed away as Ryun settled deeper in the pillows. “Just get on with it.” He folded his hands behind his head.

Aiden faced her again, his fist sliding up the stalk of Ryun’s organ, pushing loose skin toward the flared head. “Wrap your hand underneath mine on his cock, Nera.”

Astonished that her hand wasn’t shaking, her did so. The coarse nest of hair tickled the side of her palm.

“Good, now –” Aiden leaned in closer, using his free hand to hook his hair behind his ear and out of the way, “– watch.”

She did, amazed when his pink lips parted and he slid them over smooth skin. He let them sink until lips met his fist, then pulled them back up. The flushed skin he left behind was wet. “Make sure your mouth is wet and be careful of your teeth.” He did it again. “Use your tongue and be sure to suck at least a little. You try.”

She swallowed, meeting his gaze.

He nodded.

She bit her lip as she settled down and couldn’t help a glance up at Ryun. He was watching with slitted eyes. Taking a fortifying breath that filled her head with the musky scent of man, she opened her lips and lowered her head. Soft. Soft and firm over muscle hard.

“That’s it,” Aiden encouraged, “down to my fist.”

She did, which took the head of his thing — his cock? — almost to the back of her tongue. She tasted a burst of salt as she pulled her lips back toward the head.

“Use your tongue.”

For awhile, they followed that pace. Aiden’s soft voice encouraged her and Ryun’s hard cock was not as scary from this vantage. The texture and taste of him was almost intriguing. Then he started to tell her to go faster and harder. He took away his hand and encouraged her to wet more of the shaft with her saliva so she could use her hand as well. Ryun’s hips started to rock and glances up at him showed his eyes closed and his face tilted up, clearly enjoying what was happening.

“Enough.”

With just that warning, Ryun leaned forward and pulled her from his staff. She yelped as he tossed her onto her back and crawled over her. He grabbed her wrist with one hand and devoured her mouth as he lowered his hips between her thighs.

“We’ll work on that more later,” he assured her on a growl just before he shoved his cock inside her.

Shocked, she screamed. But it didn’t hurt. She was wet and the tingling pain she’d felt the night before was gone, leaving behind only the overwhelming, frightening rush of warmth and sizzle. Ryun held her down as he rammed his cock into her again and again. She grabbed onto the sheets beneath her and closed her eyes, determined to ride it out without crying. But the cry did come, even if there were no tears, pushed up and out of her lungs by an explosion in her groin. She shook and moaned as he continued his assault. When it was done, he pushed up to another angle and began it all again. She spotted Aiden lying beside them when once her eyes opened of their own accord. He simply watched, hand busy on his own cock, which was now hard and flushed dark pink.

Then Ryun was done with her. She lay, trying to quietly catch her breath as he braced over her, lost in the final traces of his release. Then, in one move, he pulled out of her and launched himself at Aiden. It looked for all the world as though Aiden caught him, arms sliding around his master as their lips locked. The kiss was hard and passionate and brief. Ryun tore away to slip down Aiden’s body until he could wrap his hand and lips around Aiden’s erect cock. Aiden groaned, one fist at his mouth and the other wrapped in the sheet as Ryun swallowed him down. Nera watched in stunned fascination as Aiden shook, cried. And Ryun swallowed it all down.

Grinning, Ryun pushed to his knees, wiping his mouth. “That’s how it’s done, Nera.” He spoke to her but his eyes were on the pale man lying before him.

Aiden brushed mussed hair from his face and met Ryun’s gaze with his normal calm, marred only a little by his rapid breathing and the pink flush to his face, neck and chest.

“Come.” Ryun patted Aiden’s thigh then turned and crawled from the bed. “Miyn,” he called as he gained his feet.

She appeared at the edge of the candlelight. “My lord?”

“Stay with Nera,” he stepped into his pants. “Make sure she has everything she needs.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Aiden rolled to his knees at Nera’s side.

Ryun continued. “Nera, there are six guards on the door and six more on the ground below the balcony.”

Aiden patted her cheek before crawling past her toward his clothing.

Ryun faced her, tying the laces on his trousers. “It doesn’t matter what my father says. You’re still mine. Do you understand?”

Wincing, she nodded.

“Good. If you obey me, we can have a pleasant time, like tonight.” He glanced at Aiden, who was pulling on his skirt. “But if you let Scarn take you again, I doubt you’ll enjoy the consequences.”

“Y-yes. Master.”

The addition of the title pleased him. “Leave off the robe,” he told Aiden as he started to walk toward the door, “you’ll just take it right off again. Grab my boots.”

Without comment, Aiden bent to grab the rest of his clothing and Ryun’s. “Good night, Nera. Miyn.”

WARNINGS: non-con

*****************************

It was the first time Nera was alone — or, at least, aware of it — since her capture. She pressed her forehead to the raised arm of the couch and clutched her fingers to either side of her head. The tears stopped after only a short time, leaving behind an emptiness. Her body ached in new places but she couldn’t believe it was anything serious. She’d survive, in body if not in soul.

Why was this happening to her? Why had Buir forsaken her? Or had Buir been attacked by the gods of the sharif?

She was still kneeling on the couch when they arrived. Huddled under the cloak, she peeked up to see Miyn rush in followed by Aiden in a great sweep of light gray robes.

Aiden fell to his knees at her side, the sleeves of his robe falling back on his pale forearms as he reached to cup her jaw. She might have flinched but his striking beauty worked as a balm to her nerves. For some reason, he calmed her despite the worry lines that marred the fine arch of her brows. She saw obvious concern in his narrowed green eyes. “Nera, are you all right?”

She opened her mouth but didn’t know how to answer. She would not say she had been “all right” since she’d been taken from the temple.

After studying her face, Aiden didn’t wait for her answer. “Miyn, where did he touch her?” With one hand, he yanked the cloak down her body.

Miyn was at her other side, pulling it away. Nera felt gentle hands smooth over her bottom, gently parting it. “She’s not bleeding. He did take care to prepare her.”

“He took her ass? Gods.” Aiden scowled, shaking his head as his fingers tensed on Nera’s jaw. “I doubt Ryun will appreciate the nicety.” His attention returned to her face. “We need to get you out of here. Can you walk?”

Again she was unable to answer, a dry sob spilling from her lips rather than words.

With a curt nod, he quickly pulled the cloak back over her body. Gesturing for Miyn to step back, he urged Nera back onto her knees then lifted her into his arms, cloak and all. She was shocked at the strength in the slim arms that held her but chose to take comfort as he carried her from the room. His smell reminded her of fresh summer air and fragrant meadow breezes. She wrapped her arms around his neck as instructed and kept her face hidden in the hood of the cloak that Miyn arranged for her.

They returned to Ryun’s rooms without another word. Aiden set her on her feet at the edge of the sunken bath, keeping his hands close to steady her. “Can you stand?”

Eyes downcast, she nodded. Her legs were fine.

“You should bathe,” he instructed, removing the cloak from her person. “If there is pain, let either me or Miyn know and we can help to soothe it.”

She shook her head and kept her voice soft. “I’m all right.” The ache within her buttocks throbbed a little, but it was starting to fade.

He carried the cloak away. Miyn stepped up to release her sweaty hair from its knot atop her head while she untied the rope around her waist.

Aiden returned to stand before them, scowling. “How did this happen, Miyn?”

Nera couldn’t see the shorter woman who was still behind her. “He stopped us on the way to see Yosef.” Her voice was very quiet.

“You were just getting to that?”

“I-I wanted to let her sleep.” She helped Nera lift the green strip of fabric over her head. “She’s had a rough few days…”

“And now, thanks to you, it’s rougher.”

Nera glanced at the other woman as she stepped away but Miyn’s back was turned. “I’m sorry.”

“You can explain to Ryun.” He met Nera’s gaze and the ice in his emerald eyes softened a little. “Please, Nera.” He gestured to the warm water. “You’ll feel better.”

She doubted it, but she stepped into the water. If nothing else, she could wash away the sweat that coated her skin. As well as Scarn’s dried seed. The water felt wonderful, a comforting c

“Where is he?” Miyn asked, keeping her face downturned as she knelt by the bath’s shelf of oils and unguents.

“He went directly to the Sharif.”

Ducking her head under water, Nera gulped, frightened that an incident involving her had been taken to the ruler himself. She doubted any good could come of that.

She missed what Miyn said next, resurfacing to hear the tail end of Aiden’s answer.

“….be angry. How could he not?” Aiden opened the doors of a small armoire. “What, exactly, did Scarn say when he took her?”

Miyn wrung a soft cloth in her hands. “He wanted me to watch. He wanted my lord to know how he took her.”

“Of course he did. And because she wasn’t branded yet, he was within his rights.”

Miyn whimpered. “I’m sorry, my lord. If I had known…”

Aiden stopped her with a wave of his hand. “I know, I know. Your heart was in the right place in letting her sleep. We should have had her branded immediately but he…” He shook his head, pulling a bare white shift from the armoire. “Nevermind. There’s nothing to be done now but wait.”

Nera was washing her hair when Aiden answered a knock in the anteroom beside the bedroom. Miyn knelt quietly beside the side of the pool, waiting on Nera’s needs.

Nera waded close enough to see the tense fear on the other woman’s face. “What will he do?” she asked, keeping her voice low.

With a glance toward the anteroom where Aiden was now speaking in low tones with what sounded like another man, Miyn swallowed. “I’m not sure. I’ll probably go to the guards.”

Nera recalled Scarn making that threat. “What does that mean?”

Miyn’s lips pressed together. “I’ll be given to a group of guardsmen for a time for them to do what they will with me.”

The gold around Nera’s wrist clacked softly against the bath tiles as she startled. “A group of them?”

“Yes.”

“Will they…?” How could she say? Everything in this place seemed to be based on or around sex. If what Ryun and Scarn had done to her was considered pleasure, what would a punishment consist of?

Miyn almost met her eyes. Her gaze traveled most of the way toward Nera but halted at her shoulder. “Fuck me? Oh yes. Repeatedly and in many different ways. Depending on the group of men, a woman may never be the same again.”

Driven to console, Nera lay a wet hand on a knee bared by the short hem of Miyn’s dress. Miyn smiled sadly and covered the hand with hers.

Aiden returned in a soft rustle of robes, again frowning. “Nera, time to get out.”

Miyn stood to retrieve a drying cloth. “Is my lord returning?”

Nostrils flaring, Aiden stared at Nera as she started up the steps out of the pool. “No. We’re to take her to him. And the sharif.”

Nera froze, one foot dripping on the rim of the pool. “The Sharif?”

“Yes.” He bustled forward, clapping his hands. “Hurry, now. We can’t keep them waiting.”

* * * *

Aiden escorted Nera into the same or similar room to the one in which Nera had first seen the Sharif. Again she was led by a leash and covered with a floor-length cloak, but Aiden’s hand was not as heavy as Marken’s had been. Also, he walked beside instead of in front of her, guiding rather than leading.

The room was dimly lit, a number of candles burning in wall sconces around them. The men sat on pillows that surrounded the clear area where the glass contraption sat. Soft string music filled the air, played by musicians that were probably hidden behind the copious drapery that hid the walls. The sharif sat farthest from the door, holding a hose that extended from the center, smoke billowing around his head. He watched her approach, his rotund body draped in bright yellow silk that gaped open to reveal his bare chest. Fleshy bare legs crossed casually in front of him.

Only Scarn and Ryun were in the room with him. At least, they were all who could be seen. There could be others behind the thick hanging veils. Scarn sat not far from his father, at his leisure among the pillows. He was now bare from the waist up, a thick mat of hair making his chest one large shadow. His legs were stretched before him, his hands folded underneath his bald head. He turned to smile in her direction as she was led inside. Ryun was standing. Or, rather, pacing nearest the door. He wore a blue jerkin, tied loosely over his bare chest, above snug black trousers and shining black boots. His hair pulled back in a tail although many tendrils escaped, as though he’d pushed his hands through it. The red in his cheeks and the tension in his expression clearly showed his emotions.

As soon as they entered, he rushed toward them. Taking hold of Nera’s shoulders and standing in front of her to block her view of the room, he looked to Aiden. “Is she all right?”

“As far as I can tell, she’s unharmed, my lord.”

“Ha!” Scarn barked as Ryun held her head by the back of her neck and tilted it to get a better look. “I told you I didn’t break your new doll.”

Ryun scowled as he looked at her. In the bad lighting, his eyes were as black as Scarn’s and she finally saw the resemblance between them. She flinched, but that made his scowl deepen.

“You see, Ryun,” came the sharif’s rumbling baritone, “all has ended well.”

Snarling, Ryun snatched his hand away and spun about. “All is not right.” He stepped toward the center of the room. “He made free use of what is mine.”

Peeking up, Nera could clearly see Scarn’s evil smile. “Perhaps you should mark what’s yours.”

Ryun took a menacing step toward his brother. “You fucking bull sucker! I’m not having this stupid argument again.”

“Indeed, let’s not rehash this,” interrupted the sharif. A pile of pillows toppled as he shifted. “Bring the girl here.”

Ryun’s spine shot straight. “What?”

Nera could just see the gold rings flash on pudgy fingers as the sharif beckoned. “I said to bring the girl here.”

“Why?”

“I wish to see what prize puts my sons at each others’ throats.”

Ryun took a step back, obscuring much of Nera’s view of the room. “What’s put us at each others’ throats is that he seeks to take what is mine.”

“Wrong.” Scarn sat forward, elbows on his knees. “If I sought to take her, she would be in my rooms now. I only sampled her.”

“Without permission.”

“Enough.” Fat fingers snapped. “Here, Ryun. Don’t make me say it again.”

Nera clearly heard the echo of Scarn in his father’s words and swallowed. She couldn’t move and Ryun did not seem inclined. She didn’t expect Aiden to take her arm, lay a hand on her back and gently lead her forward. As they came abreast of Ryun, Aiden paused. The two men exchanged a glance over her head, then Aiden led her forward again.

Nera dropped her gaze but couldn’t help sneaking glances at the man they approached. He was bald but, unlike Scarn, he had a neatly trimmed black beard that lined the curve of his jaw and emphasized fleshy lips. His dark eyes matched Scarn’s exactly, making Nera wonder about Ryun’s mother, the source of his blue eyes. Aiden stopped a few feet in front of the sharif and dropped to his knees, taking her down with him. She descended gratefully to the carpet, ducking her head so the floor length cloak covered her.

“That is sufficient, boy. Up and take the leash and cloak with you.”

Since he’d not instructed her to rise, Nera remained on her knees, trembling despite the choking warmth of the room when Aiden removed the cloak from her back. She could feel three pairs of eyes on the bare skin of her back and mostly exposed buttocks. Aiden and Miyn had clad her in near worthless scraps of cloth similar to what she’d worn the previous day so much of her skin was on display. She could see her own breasts quivering as she shook.

“On your feet, girl.”

She rose as gracefully as she could, keeping her face downturned.

She saw the sharif shift closer, highly uncomfortable that the ruler of the land sat at her feet. “Lovely,” he mused. A rounded hand reached out to stroke her bare calf. “She is well formed but I see nothing particularly special about her.”

“Father,” Ryun barked, boots scuffing as he stepped forward, “this isn’t necessary.”

Nera cast her eyes sideways as the sharif edged yet closer. His fingers closed on one tie of the fabric that barely covered her sex. “But it is necessary,” he purred. A tug and the fabric fell away, exposing the curls of her mound to him, just about level with his face. She whimpered, clutching her hands behind her back as he extended a finger to trace the crease of her thigh where it met those curls.

“Father!”

Nera jumped as four men materialized from behind the hangings spread out along the back walls. None of the men were armed, but all were bare chested with muscles upon muscles. Nera would not have been surprised if they were giants of lore that she heard when she was a child.

“Be still, Ryun.” The sharif caught her shin, preventing her from moving away. “Behave yourself and I might let you have her.”

“You already let me have her.”

“And you were careless.” The sharif patted the outside of her thigh. “Come, girl.” He sat back in his pillows and patted a stone ledge behind them. “Come sit here.”

“Father, I won’t stand for this.”

The sharif’s attention focused on his son as Nera took the trembling steps necessary to obey. “I don’t see that you have a choice in the matter.”

As she sat on a sumptuous red and gold pillow, Nera chanced a glance at Ryun. He stood at the opposite side of the circle, steaming, fists at his sides. Aiden stood just behind him, eyes averted, a sad look on his delicate features.

“You just expect me to watch?”

The sharif turned his back to his son. “I don’t much care what you do.” He smiled at Nera as he lay soft hands on her trembling knees. “Open up, my dear.”

“Please.” She heard the whisper spill from her lips before she could stop it.

It made him pause. “Please?” he asked with an indulgent smile. “My dear girl, you needn’t beg.” He chuckled as he gently pushed her legs apart. “Not yet.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Scarn scoot toward them, positioning himself for a better view. She bit her lip and leaned on her elbows when the sharif’s pudgy hand pushed her back. One of the hulking men remained just behind her, a menacing shadow just out of sight.

The sharif leaned toward her sex and drew in a deep, loud breath. “Oh, yes. An intoxicating scent, no doubt.” He slid one hand up the inside of her thigh and made her gasp when he drew that thumb through her wet folds. “And wet already?”

Scarn chuckled. “I believe she’s like that, father. She creamed when I took her ass too.”

“You took her…!” Ryun’s cry was cut off as Aiden grabbed his arm.

The sharif’s attention remained on Scarn, one brow raised. “Oh? It was her first time?”

“Must have been.”

His thumb still resting at her core, the sharif turned his torso enough to look at his younger son. “Was she wet when you first forced her?”

Ryun cut off a heated exchange with Aiden. “Forced her?”

“Let’s not mince words, Ryun. You couldn’t have taken her with consent. She wouldn’t have given it. Besides, her screams were heard.”

Nera winced, feeling a flush of shame redden her face and neck.

Ryun growled and started to move forward but Aiden caught his arm. The prince and his man exchanged more angry, hissing words that Nera couldn’t make out.

“Ryun,” the sharif snapped. “Answer me.”

Their heated exchange clipped short, Ryun faced his father, fists at his sides. “Yes. She was wet. And she came like a storm, despite her protests.”

The sharif turned back around, interest lighting his pudgy face. “Interesting.” His thumb pressed inside Nera and she couldn’t help the tremor that took her over nor the way her eyelids dropped low over her eyes. “Very interesting.” Without removing his finger, he settled lower, bringing his face closer to her core. “And we have more of these priestesses below?”

“No,” she cried, disturbed by the low rasp to her voice. “Please, my lord, please don’t do… this to them.”

The sharif smiled as Scarn leaned closer, intrigued.

“Are they like you, my dear?” the sharif asked.

She gasped as he shoved more of his thumb inside her. Even she could smell the rich scent that wafted up from her folds. “I-I don’t know what you mean.”

“Highly sexed.” He brought his other hand into play, pinching that tiny bud of trapped fire that lived between her thighs.

She cried out when her hips bucked.

He kept rubbing that spot, also rubbing her with his thumb from the inside. “Are they?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“You know that for sure? You’re different?”

It was difficult to think with him massaging her like that. “I-I’m not different.”

“Then they are like you.”

“I don’t know,” she whispered, clutching desperately at the pillows beneath her as growing familiar fire burst low in her belly.

“Hmm.” Watching her face, he picked up the pace with his hands, rubbing her furiously, fanning that flame.

She cried out to the ceiling when that wash of feeling spread through her limbs.

“So very responsive,” the sharif mused calmly, withdrawing his hands. She looked down to see him lapping at the wet on his fingers. “Rich and delicious. Oh yes, I see what it is now. Tazim!”

He held her knees as another man stepped out of the darkness. This one was fully dressed in pale yellow and rich gold. He stopped at the lip of the sunken center of the room and bowed. “My lord?”

“Find every priestess from the temple this one came from. What god was it?”

She only briefly considered giving him an incorrect answer, but instantly judged that folly. “Buir.”

“Yes, Buir. Find every priestess from that temple and have them cleaned up and isolated. I wish to personally inspect each one. Understood?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Go.”

“Father,” Scarn was sitting now just two arm lengths away, “I’d be happy to help with that inspection.”

The sharif’s attention was on Nera’s sex as he used two thumbs to spread her open. “I’m sure you would. We’ll have to see about that.”

“Father, no!” Ryun cried as the sharif bent forward.

But father ignored son. Nera whimpered, biting her lip when his tongue dragged through her folds. Unintentionally, she met Ryun’s gaze and the angry accusation she saw there scared her enough to look away. But the hungry lust she saw in Scarn’s eyes was not any better. Nor was the barely concealed lust she saw in the guards who ranged behind him. She recalled what Miyn had said about being sent to guards as punishment. She could well believe a night with such men could ruin a women. With nowhere to look, she closed her eyes and tried to tamp the fire that raced in her blood.

But she couldn’t. The sharif’s lips and tongue allowed her no quarter. He held her and speared her and ate at her and she cried and shook under the terrible heat. At one point, she fell back, clutching pillows, her back arching as wave upon wave of dark lightning seared through every muscle in her body, seizing them and rocking her. Even once she’d collapsed in a breathless, boneless heap, the sharif continued to lap at her, suckling and lapping until her body simply would no longer move.

At long last, the sharif pushed away from her. Since her eyes were closed and would not open, she only felt the retreat of the heat between her legs. A pat on her thigh. “Ah!” His satisfied sigh would have made her wince. “Yes. That was quite delicious.”

She wanted to move. She wanted to close her legs, all to aware that with him gone she was blatantly on display to the room.

“Father.” Ryun’s voice was strained. “May I take my possession back now?”

“Mmmm. Yes.”

A flurry of movement. Nera managed to pull her legs together and rise to her elbows by the time Aiden reached her. She was profoundly glad it was him and not Ryun. He took care with the cloak and was gentle as he helped her to sit.

“However.” All movement paused and everyone’s attention turned to the sharif. The fat man sat back in his pillows again, one of the mouthpieces of the room’s central glass ornament at his mouth. He inhaled then exhaled a cloud of fragrant smoke before continuing. “You may not brand her.”

Ryun, still on the opposite side of the room, straightened. “What?”

Scarn sat forward, interested.

The sharif smiled. “You may take her but you may not mark her as yours.”

“But she is mine.” The words leaned more toward question than statement.

“No. You may have her as long as you can keep her.”

“Father, that’s unacceptable.”

The sharif took another puff of the strange pipe. “I could take her from your possession altogether. I’m sure Scarn would agree to my terms.”

Scarn chuckled.

Ryun’s hands fisted as Aiden helped Nera to her feet. Blue eyes fixed on her. “Fine.”

The sharif chuckled, then held out a hand as Aiden began to lead Nera past him. “Girl, what is your name?”

She couldn’t help how she huddled close under Aiden’s arm. “N-Nera.”

“Nera. We shall meet again, you and I. Meantime, I want you to be aware of your status.”

She felt Aiden tense.

The sharif continued. “The bonds you wear on your feet, ankles and neck mark you as a pleasure slave of the highest order. You command the obedience of women who wear only a leather collar.”

Like Miyn, she thought.

“The lack of a nobleman’s brand, however, makes you fair game to any man.” He cocked his head to the side, dark eyes bright as he held her gaze. “Any man in the palace. Understood?”

Her eyes went wide and she just managed to nod.

He smiled. “Good.” He sat back. “Choose wisely where you can.”

Still keeping the non-con warning on this one. Because it gets worse.

Also, still no one editing this one but me so any mistakes you see I can only ask you to overlook.

WARNINGS: non-consensual sex, f/f interaction, anal sex.

*************************

Nera woke alone. The heated male presence that had exhausted her the day and night previous was gone. She could not pretend it was just a dream because the gold silk sheets and plush, soft pillows that she saw when she opened her eyes could not have been in her cell a the temple.

She closed her eyes and buried her face in the pillow, willing herself to be elsewhere or, if that were impossible, to die. The attack on the temple had come in the wee hours of the morning. The men hired to defend the sacred temple of Buir had fallen quickly to the attackers. By mid-morning, Nera and her sister priestesses had all been trussed up and hauled off to the neighboring country. It had taken two days of travel, during which she and her fellow prisoners were released once in the early afternoon and once just after dusk for eating and calls of nature. They had arrived at the sumptuous palace and they’d known a life of slavery was ahead of them.

Nera had never expected to become a pleasure slave.

A noise pulled her from her misery. Her eyes popped open and she remained still, feigning sleep in a feeble hope to avoid further attention from her new master. But the sounds she heard could not be him, far too soft and light. Curious, Nera twisted her neck enough to peep from underneath the ragged fall of her tousled black hair to see who it was.

The woman from the previous day stood at the end of the bed, her dark hair pulled back into a simple tail. She was wearing a bright orange short dress, similar to the one she’d been wearing before and a simple leather collar encircled her neck.

She noted Nera’s attention and smiled. “Good morning.”

Caught, Nera slowly pushed herself to an elbow, pushing her hair from her face. The light sheet that draped her slipped down her shoulder but she caught it against her breasts. “H-hello.”

Miyn was her name, Nera recalled. She held up a small bundle of green fabric. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’ve orders to take you for branding.”

Nera’s eyes went wide.

Miyn ducked her head. “I’m sorry. But we must. It won’t hurt much, I promise.” She turned and plucked up the hem of her dress to display a complicated black knot design on the outside of her right hip, almost tucked under her bare buttock. “That’s all it is. See?”

Horrified but curious, Nera sat up, still clutching the sheet. “Why?”

Miyn let her hem fall and faced forward again. “It’s to mark you as Prince Ryun’s possession. It’s really for the best, believe me.”

“Why?”

“Without it, you’re fair game for any man in the palace.”

“What?”

“It’s the truth.” She shook the green fabric. “So we should hurry. Really, it’s important.”

“But I don’t want…”

“Please.” The tone of Miyn’s voice and the plea in her eyes stopped Nera. “I’ve already let you sleep too long. If we don’t get to the studio soon, Yosef will have stopped for the day and the Prince will be mad.”

Nera had been raised to ease the suffering of others. She had crawled forward before she realized she’d done so. “I don’t belong here,” she whispered.

“I know,” Miyn said kindly, tugging at the sheet Nera still clutched to her breasts, “but this is your life now. It’s easier to just do as you’re told.”

Miyn’s hands were gentle as she helped Nera to stand. She shook out the green fabric which turned out to be a long, slender rectangle of green silk. A hemmed hole in the center went over Nera’s head and Miyn produced a soft rope to belt at Nera’s waist. “We should have had you bathe,” she fussed, tying the belt, “but you looked so peaceful sleeping.”

Nera glanced down. The fabric must be silk for it hardly weighed anything at all, the embroidered edge falling almost to her ankles. The rectangle was slender so her breasts and privates were covered, but her sides were completely bare. It was better than the tiny slips of fabric she’d been made to wear the previous day, but not by much.

“Where…?” She cleared her throat. “Where is…?”

“Prince Ryun? He has a daily routine with his men. He won’t be done until later this afternoon.” Miyn fussed at the heavy fall of Nera’s hair, quickly and efficiently smoothing it and looping it into a loose knot. She took hold of Nera’s wrist, just below the gold band. “Come, we must hurry.” They paused only long enough for Nera to don soft slippers of the same green silk and for Miyn to drape her with a floor length, hooded cape, then left the room. “There are people curious about you,” she murmured as she led Nera down a deserted corridor. Sunlight streamed over them from the open panels in the wall to their left. “I would have brought Yosef to you but he’s not allowed in this part of the palace.”

“Are you a slave like me?” it seemed a silly question given the bonds Miyn wore.”

“I’m a slave, but not like you.” Miyn opened a door for Nera. “I’m just a servant. The Prince has never fucked me.”

“I’m sorry? That word…?” Nera had a feeling she knew the meaning but she didn’t want to assume.

Miyn glanced at her, startled. “Oh, I’m sorry. I meant he hasn’t taken me to his bed, like he’s done with you.”

“Oh.” Embarrassed, Nera ducked her head, shielding her face with the hood of the cloak. She certainly could not see why the prince had not taken Miyn. She was very pretty and her gold eyes were quite stunning. Why did the prince focus on Nera when he had Miyn and, undoubtedly, countless others to choose from? Was it because of where she was from? Her upbringing? He seemed both disdainful and fascinated with her life at the temple.

They passed into an interior corridor with more people about. Miyn stayed close with a hand on Nera’s arm to guide her. Self conscious, Nera kept her head down, allowing the hood to hide her face. It kept her from seeing where they were going, but also kept others from seeing her. Miyn rushed them through a few more doors and down two flights of stairs. Nera could almost feel her relief as they rounded a corridor.

Then Miyn stopped. Gasped. “My lord.”

Startled, Nera glanced up, expecting Prince Ryun. It wasn’t him. Instead, it was the bald man who had been with Ryun when he’d claimed Nera. Tall, armed and dressed all in black, he stood blocking their path. The band that held the patch over his left eye cut over his head and just below his ear, as black as the glittering right eye that fixed on her. The smile he gave her made her toes curl inside the soft slippers. “Ah.”

Nera gasped and dropped her head. Was she in trouble for meeting his eyes?

Boots thumped the tiles of the floor ahead of them, the metal of his weapons jangling against the plates of his tunic. Nera gladly fell back at Miyn’s discreet pull.

“My lord.” Miyn took a step toward him, putting herself in his way. “If we may pass…”

“You may not.”

Nera couldn’t help the small shriek that escaped her throat when a strong hand closed on her arm, cloak and all.

“My lord?” Miyn cried.

“Come with me. Both of you.”

Nera stumbled in his wake, the strength of his hold the only thing that kept her on her feet and propelled her with him.

“But, my lord,” Miyn protested, “we’re under direct orders from Prince Ryun to…”

“Yes, I know. I choose to delay you.”

“But…”

“Silence.” Softly spoken but the growl must have cowed Miyn as effectively as it did Nera.

He pulled them up a dark flight of stairs and down a short hall to a door. Nera heard at least a dozen people scurry from their path but didn’t dare raise her head. She kept a tight grip on the cloak to keep it closed and wondered what fresh atrocity they hurried toward.

Once past the door, Nera heard Miyn gasp and stumble as it closed but couldn’t look because the large man spun her around and yanked open the cloak.

His smile as he let the heavy garment fall was anything but warm. “Yes.” Thick, calloused fingers cupped her chin to force her to look at him. “Do you know who I am?”

She couldn’t look away from his face, from the scars that made him terribly frightening, from the black eye that pierced deep into her. “N-no.”

“Tell her.”

Miyn was clearly familiar with the man. “Nera, this is Prince Scarn, eldest son of Sharif Moesel.”

Nera swallowed. The Sharif she’d heard of. He was ruler of the country to which she’d been abducted. She gathered that he was the fat man to whom Prince Ryun had deferred to the previous night and called ‘father’. If this Prince Scarn was the eldest, that would should make him Ryun’s elder brother. Common laws made him the more powerful and Nera could not doubt that looking at him now.

Scarn watched her face as she recognized his identity. Without breaking his gaze, his free hand found her breast and squeezed. “Yes. You understand that you will do as I say.”

She flinched and swallowed. His grip on her chin kept her from nodding.

He spun her around again and propelled her forward. She stumbled and caught herself on a strangely fashioned couch near the center of the small, dark parlor. The rug underneath her feet was soft and thick, the red in its pattern matching the upholstery on the backless couch. It only had one arm and that was larger than normal, rising up to the height that the back might be. Plush padding gave under her knee.

She glanced over her shoulder to see him looking at Miyn and pointing to a spot on the rug just a few yards from Nera. “Kneel.”

The other woman obeyed, casting a worried glance at the door.

“Don’t worry, pet. I’ll let you warn your master.” The sheathed weapons at his belt jangled as he put his hands to the buckle. “But first, you need something to tell him.”

Miyn fell forward on one hand, holding the other out to him in entreaty. “My lord, no, please.”

Nera’s heart raced. Miyn’s tone scaring her.

The belt and weapons dropped to the floor. “Silence.” He yanked aside one of the plates at the front of his tunic then started on the laces over the bulge between his thighs.

Nera scrambled back over the couch, putting it between them. Hopeless, she knew, since Scarn stood between her and the door, but her body would not listen to reason. “M-my lord, please…”

A sharp laugh burst from his lips. “Please? Do you hear, pet, she wants this.”

Frantically, Nera shook her head. “No, no, that’s not…” She gulped when she realized his attention was on her breasts, exposed since her stumbling had wedged the fabric of her shift between them. Desperate, she raised her arm in an attempt to cover them. “Don’t, please.”

Scarn shook his head as he pulled the last of the laces loose. He pulled out his thick, hard thing as he approached. With the other hand, he pointed at the couch. “Get back up here.”

“My lord…”

“Don’t make me tell you again.”

The threat was worse for remaining unspoken. Shaking, Nera tried to discreetly tuck at least one breast back into relative shelter as she put first one knee then the other on the padded couch.

He knelt and used his free hand to force her around, positioning her with her belly against the hard bolster pillow that was wedged against the tall arm of the couch and her lower chest against the arm itself. She felt the rough warmth his trousers against the bare backs of her thighs. “Hand me that bottle.”

Miyn gasped. “My lord…”

“Another word from you and you go to the guards.” He snapped his fingers near Nera’s ear. “That bottle. Now.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his finger pointing. She also saw the fear in Miyn’s face. Shaking, she raised her hand to retrieve a small, ornate bottle from the small covered table in front of her.

He snatched it from her hand but she kept her eyes forward, focusing on an intricate design of circles and squares on the wall before her rather than look at what he was doing. Her fingers dug into the padding just underneath her breasts. She expected more of what Ryun had done to her the previous day. She doubted he would appreciate what was happening now. Why was Scarn doing this? What did he want with her?

He flipped aside the flimsy green fabric that covered her rear end and she managed to suppress her flinch as he ran a hand over her exposed buttocks. “Spread your knees.”

Ducking her head, she obeyed.

The glass of the little bottle scraped as he unstoppered it. This time Nera did gasp, raising her head as he used the finger and thumb of one hand to spread her buttocks apart. What was he doing? That wasn’t the right place!

She twisted her neck partially, not quite brave enough to look at him fully. “M-my lord, that’s not…”

He chuckled as her words died off. “So, he didn’t take you here.” The end of one dry digit caressed her anus. “Just as I’d hoped.”

Nera’s eyes met Miyn’s and saw the confirmation there. He intended to take her there? Fear propelled her forward but she had no place to go. The couch proved to be surprisingly solid and the man behind her just as unmovable.

Strong fingers dug in her hair and yanked her backward, effectively stopping her struggles. “It’ll hurt,” he assured her, lips beside her ear. “But it’ll hurt more if you struggle.” He shook her head. “Do you hear me?”

Tears stung her eyes. “My lord, please.”

“Yes, beg me. Very pretty.” His free hand gripped her hip, yanking her back so that the stalk of his thing pressed into the space of her bottom. “I will fuck you how I choose, pretty thing, and you will take it. If you don’t struggle, it’ll hurt less. Makes no difference to me.”

He shoved her forward, releasing her hair. She caught herself on the arm of the couch, pressing against it. Warm tears streamed down her cheeks. “Don’t, please.”

He ignored her. Again her buttocks were spread, again the fingers appeared. Cool liquid poured on her skin and the fingers spread it around. Nera wanted to fight but she absolutely believed what he had told her. A whimper bled from her throat as one of his fingers pressed inside and a strange pain blossomed around it.

A soft hand covered hers and she looked up to see that Miyn had crept closer and now stood beside her. Sympathetic gold eyes met hers and Miyn twisted her hand so their fingers twined. “Try to relax,” she murmured. When Nera gave her wide eyes, she nodded and smoothed the tendrils of hair at the side of Nera’s face. “I know. Try.”

The man behind Nera laughed and the finger continued probing. The first pain subsided, leaving behind a strange, stretching feeling. Nera closed her eyes, then felt Miyn lean in to press her forehead to Nera’s.

“Very pretty,” purred Scarn as he pushed a second finger inside of Nera.

She gasped as the pain worsened, an unfamiliar stretching. She clung to Miyn’s hand. She didn’t open her eyes when Miyn lifted her face to start nuzzling by Nera’s ear and took comfort when the other woman’s lips brushed her cheek. This was more familiar. Innocent embraces between sister priestesses had often involved kisses. Comfort given, comfort offered. Nera took it as a lifeline as Scarn inserted another finger. Now Miyn cupped her chin, turning Nera’s face so she could kiss away the tears. Lips met lips in an extended, chaste kiss.

Nera gasped when Scarn pulled out his fingers. Miyn used both hands to hold her face, opening lips on lips to push her tongue past Nera’s teeth. Surprise made Nera helpless to the onslaught but the first push of Scarn’s thing into her body won out. She cried, arching her back. Miyn wrapped fingers around her neck to try and hold her, murmuring comfort as the huge man pushed himself inside. Pain like none Nera had known before blinded her to anything else and she scrambled for escape. Soft hands caught and held one of her hands while rough fingers found and pinned her other hand to the couch. He stopped. He was in her. She was spitted.

She screamed.

“No, no, no,” Miyn murmured, holding Nera’s hand to her chest and using the other to smooth over her cheek. “Relax, please, relax. Fighting makes it hurt more.”

The man inside Nera grunted and began to pull out slowly, muttering to himself.

“Nera,” Miyn whispered, lips against Nera’s, “sweet Nera.”

Crying, Nera could not respond to the kiss. Miyn released her hand and tucked Nera’s face into the bend of her neck. Her free hand roamed over Nera’s back as Scarn pushed back in. Miyn’s hand slid along her side, slid under the fabric that failed to cover her, found a breast and squeezed. Nera cried as a horrible tremble took her body. She felt both of them pause, then Scarn laughed and spread both hands on either side of Nera’s buttocks. Before she could draw a proper breath, he pulled out and shoved back in.

Again she screamed, clutching the couch. Miyn’s scent covered her as her body rocked, shuddered. Gentle fingers pinched the hard bud of her nipple.

“Nera?” Miyn whispered.

Nera could not answer her, too distraught with the fire in her veins. Her hips would not stay still.

Fingers left her breast only to reappear at her thigh, slipping within, between, to find…

Nera groaned, switching her hands from the couch to Miyn, clutching the woman to her as nimble fingers slid between her folds to find that aching, single point of searing heat.

“Nera,” Miyn sighed, kissing her shoulder, holding her head while she also probed into her core.

Nera writhed, caught between them as the man split her in two from behind and the woman stoked the fire low in her belly.

“Enough.” Scarn pushed forward, shoving Miyn off balance and out of Nera’s arms. Nera gasped when he pulled her up and back until she was pressed against the cold leather of the tunic he still wore. Holding her with one hand encircling her neck, he pointed the other at Miyn, who lay sprawled on the rug. “You, go tell your master what you see here.” He jounced Nera on his cock, making her cry out at the confusing combination of pain and melting heat. When Miyn didn’t move, transfixed by what she saw, he did it again. “Go, now.”

Miyn shook herself then scrambled to her feet. With a last look — full of both apology and heat — at Nera, she raced for the door.

“I want him to know,” Scarn said into her ear, jostling her again. He pulled back so her knees came off of the padding, his thing inside her and the hand at the base of her neck the only things holding her aloft. He squeezed her breast with his free hand. “I want him to know that I took you where he didn’t. Claimed you where he wouldn’t go.” He laughed as he bounced her again.

She screamed, grabbing at his arms as the only solid things within reach. The pain was barely tolerable and she cried for the ruin she was sure he made of her body.

With a triumphant grunt, he fell forward, pressing her down against the padding beneath them. His hips pulled his thing into and out of her, sliding easily now. “You like it too,” he growled, the hand moving from her breast to the wet between her legs. He bypassed the point of pleasure to simply sink at least three if not four fingers into her core. “How is a virginal priestess more of a slut than a harem-born slave?”

She couldn’t answer and he didn’t demand an answer. Tears streamed down her face as he shoved out cries from the pit of her belly. She shuddered and moaned, hardly able to move or breathe underneath his weight. The metal rings in his tunic bit into the tender flesh of her back and buttocks as he worked her. She cried for mercy he refused to give until finally his thrusting grew ragged and he shuddered over her.

Only by the cessation of his movements did she know he’d found release. Letting out a slightly breathless chuckle, he pushed away from her, leaving her draped over the arm of the couch. His thing slid from her body and she felt the spill of his release trickle to her thigh. Tears soaked the padding where she pressed her face as she labored to catch her breath.

She didn’t look up when he stood. She curled her knees underneath her, wincing as she listened to him dress. Thoughts of covering herself wilted under the sheer relief of the end of the pain, if not the burning heat in her groin. She only flinched when he patted her bare bottom.

“If your master discards you, I’ll be sure to add you to my harem.” He didn’t demand his due. Even covered her with her discarded cloak before he left the room.

Pairing: m/f; m/m; m/m/f; f/f; m/m/m/f

Available in ebook  from Loose Id

Available in ebook from ARe

Available for Kindle from Amazon

Available in ebook from Fictionwise

So here it is, the last book of the main arc started in Dark Elves I: Taken. The children conceived in the first three books are now grown and ready to cause trouble. As a quick primer, Brevin is Salin and Diana’s son, Lanthan is Krael and Suza’s son, Tykir is Hyle and Gala’s son, and Eryhaen is Savous and Irin’s daughter. Not to mention there’s this guy… from book three… who showed up in book five… yeah, we’re dealing with him too.

BLURB:

As the first girl child born to the dark elves, Eryhaen is rhaejena—princess—and desired by all of the men around her. Born with magical gifts that challenge even the most experienced sorcerers among her people, she has the awe of her people and the devotion of her three best friends and lovers. Brevin, Lanthan and Tykir have been at her side their whole lives and each of the three young men would do anything for her and each other.

But Eryhaen needs more than untutored if eager lovers. She is out of control, and she knows it. Her magic is raw and wild, and she is not the only one who’s started to see her as a danger.

She needs help.

The only possibility is Radin, a legendary sorcerer, returned from the dead but magically unconscious for a quarter of a century. Dreams and undeniable instincts tell her that he’s the solution to her problems, if she can only wake him up.

Once she does, what then? He may be the answer to her problems, but is the legendary lover the man for her? Or is he meant for someone else?

****************************

©2009 Jet Mykles, all rights reserved

Brevin’s left arm flew up, the long, slim dagger in reverse grip along his forearm to deflect Lanthan’s blade. As Lanthan began to twist away, Brevin brought up a fist, aiming for his gut. Lanthan was better than that, having spun into Brevin, catching him off guard enough so that when the smaller man’s ass rammed into his hips, he stumbled enough for Lanthan to grip his left arm and flip him head over heels. He ended flat on his back in the sand, stunned for those few precious seconds it took for Lanthan to drop to his knees and straddle Brevin’s chest, his blade at Brevin’s throat.

Lanthan’s grin was barely sane underneath the long fall of fringe that spilled over the wide band tied about his skull. “Got ya.”

Brevin snarled, fingers digging into the sand. But Lanthan’s knees pinned Brevin’s arms to the ground.

“Only because it’s left-handed.”

“No excuse,” said a deep voice overhead. “A skilled warrior fights equally well with both hands.”

Brevin closed his eyes. Lanthan’s father, Krael, was a cruel taskmaster, even in training. Especially in training. He wouldn’t accept any less than Brevin’s or Lanthan’s best even if they had just come back from battle. He wouldn’t let them have fun and just blow off steam as Brevin had hoped to do. Can’t he pay attention to the others? There were plenty of other trainees in the practice grounds for Krael to torture.

Lanthan laughed, easing up on Brevin’s throat. “Try again?”

Brevin had wondered if it was a good idea to spar so soon after their return, but after they’d left Tykir with the healers, he and Lanthan had been much too keyed up to stay in the dining hall or go to the pools. Tykir would be all right, but neither of them had truly believed it until the healer had said it himself.

“Yes.” Brevin snatched his right arm up from under Lanthan’s left knee and swung it in a roundhouse toward his friend’s head. As he’d fully expected, Lanthan shied right and back so the punch missed. Weapons dropped in the sand, they tussled, the two of them grappling until Brevin’s greater bulk won out and he had Lanthan pinned underneath him. Lanthan could barely catch his breath for laughing, his cheek pressed to the sand with one arm trapped underneath him and the other held between them by Brevin. Glistening black skin stretched over the taut muscles as Lanthan struggled underneath his weight. Brevin breathed over the closely shorn hair on his friend’s neck.

Then Lanthan stopped laughing. His ice blue eyes hooded. Clearly, he felt Brevin’s cock in the crack of his ass, rock hard. Only the dual layers of their clothing kept Brevin from pushing in immediately. Lanthan smelled divine. No. That wasn’t right. Lanthan didn’t smell like that, a scent of earth and sweet and sex. Not even fighting with his friend could get Brevin that instantly hard.

But there was one person who smelled like that, and one person who could get him instantly hard.

Lanthan blinked, his eyes shifting so he could look up at Brevin. The same thought occurred to him. And not just them. All around the practice arena, sounds of fighting stopped.

Barely rising from Lanthan, Brevin tilted his head and swiveled toward the entrance. There she was, alone and achingly stunning in one of those long, teasing shifts she preferred. Teasing because, although it was ankle-length, it was completely open at each side, held to her body only by the silk rope tied at her waist. When she walked, hungry eyes could catch tantalizing glimpses of the spare panties she wore to guard her sex. Eyrhaen. Her thigh-length hair was loose, much of it draping her slim shoulders as she calmly surveyed the cavern full of men. The men, young and older, barely moved, watching her, as aware of her heightened arousal as though she had announced it.

Then she found them, Brevin and Lanthan, and she smiled. Brevin couldn’t contain a shiver as she stepped onto the sand and began walking toward them.

Just before he shifted his weight off his friend, he glanced down at Lanthan. Ice blue eyes were closed, and white fringe almost hid his resigned look. Brevin could feel the sexual heat shimmering off him and knew that his own need was building to match it.

She had that effect on them. She had that effect on all of them.

He’d just gained his knees when two other youths raced toward Eyrhaen from behind. Brevin would have shot up to her defense, but Lanthan’s quick grip on his arm intercepted instinct and kept him on his knees. With one brief, curt nod, he showed Lanthan he was in control again, and they both remained where they were to watch.

Despite his instincts, he knew she didn’t need his help.

The boys were younger, maybe one hundred forty or fifty cycles at the most. They’d probably just come into sexual awareness. It was the only excuse for their behavior. Older males had learned their lesson with Eyrhaen. It was time for these to learn theirs.

They fell to their knees in front of her, stopping her progress. Desperate energy radiated from them, vibrating in the dry heat of the arena and spilling off the fresh bare skin of their shoulders and torsos.

“Rhajena,” one breathed, reaching for the thigh that was exposed by the nonexistent side of her shift.

The other just whimpered helplessly, hands up toward her, imploring.

She stopped, staring down at them. She could not have looked at a bug with any less interest. When the one touched her leg, she slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me.”

He gasped, and Brevin managed not to wince in sympathy. He knew that slap. Knew that she put something extra behind it. Her touch could be bliss or torture or an agonizing combination of the two.

“Please.” The other one found his voice. Brevin knew that strangled tone too. He’d used it on a number of occasions, although he liked to think he’d never looked this pathetic in front of her. Few things would make a raedjour warrior beg, and the last few cycles had taught them that Eyrhaen was one.

“Go back to your lessons,” she chided, “both of you.” Like they were boys and not youths perhaps only thirty cycles younger than she. She stepped around them and resumed her path toward Brevin and Lanthan. At least she smiled as she approached, although he’d come to dread the smile almost as much as the frown. Her arousal beat at him, and he could only wonder what had gotten her to such a state. Her effect was far more pronounced than normal, the pleasure of it caressing him in hidden places she had yet to touch. What does she do when we’re not around? No, he’d rather not think about that.

She stopped a pace in front of them, fine sand sifting in between the toes on her pretty feet. She reached out to card her fingers through Brevin’s short locks. “I’m glad you’re back. I need you.”

Brevin closed his eyes. It was that simple. No matter what he was doing, if she spoke those words to him, he would follow her.

“Lanthan.”

He opened his eyes to see her other hand caressing Lanthan’s cheek. Excitement buzzed below his heart. Time with Eyrhaen was special, but sharing her with his friend was exquisite.

Without speaking, both he and Lanthan gathered their knives and rose to their feet. By that time, she’d turned and started out of the arena. They followed like cubs after a mother bear. Brevin felt the envious stares, but they didn’t bother him. He was one of the lucky ones, or so they thought. He and Lanthan — and Tykir — were lucky enough to be around her age, just enough older that they’d been close friends with her before her sexual needs had started to blossom. Very few of those whom she didn’t bless with her attentions understood that the luck had an evil twist.

Krael patted his shoulder as they passed, but said nothing more. He knew. He understood. As a truemated male, he didn’t feel her pull as strongly. He wasn’t immune, and as Lanthan’s father, he knew what they were to her.

She led them down a short corridor to the bathing pools. No surprise. She liked hot water. She liked being wet and clean and preferred it for her lovers. Lovers. That’s what she called them. Not for the first time he toyed with the idea of arguing with her about the meaning of that word.

“Where’s Tykir?”

Brevin and Lanthan flanked her as they walked, staring down the stray males who showed interest in delaying them. “We took him to the healers.”

She grabbed his arm, distracting him. “Is he all right?”

“He will be,” Lanthan answered, carrying the sheathed knives that were usually strapped to his forearms. He’d be taking them off again soon anyway. “They put him under so he could sleep.”

“How did he get hurt?”

“Rogues.” Both he and Lanthan spoke together, the same note of disdain in their voices.

Eyrhaen said no more on the subject.

There was a hot pool in a relatively secluded corner of the main cavern she preferred. Brevin wondered if anyone else ever used it without her presence anymore. He doubted it. The serving boys kept a fresh pile of drying cloths and vials of her favorite oils and scents on the natural stone bench that had been carved into the rock wall beside the pool.

Brevin dropped to one knee beside the small brazier to stir up the banked flame kept there. It wasn’t a bright light and didn’t provide much warmth, but they didn’t really need either. She liked to be warm, though, and she claimed to like the dim firelight. Her wishes were the rule.

Beside him, she had untied her silk belt, and Lanthan was helping her to lift the flimsy shift up and off her head. Brevin’s eyes took in the slim, lovely curves of her hips and buttocks. She shifted her stance, turned toward him just right that he could get a glimpse between her firm thighs at the rich, juicy red folds of her sex. A pang of need twisted painfully in his gut at the sight, the scent of it wafting into his nostrils to make him dizzy. He caught himself leaning toward her, mouth watering. Goddess!

When she was free of the shift, she leaned back into Lanthan. He froze, shift still in one fist, his other hand automatically sliding around her slim waist to pull her flush against him. Shorter than Brevin, Lanthan was just a little taller than Eyrhaen, allowing a snug fit when they stood close. Her eyes shut in bliss. The shift slithered out of his grip as she snuggled into the curve of his body. Lanthan bent his head, his short hair tickling the point of her ear. Nibbling at her throat, Lanthan brought his palms up to cup her breasts, squeezing them just the way they knew she liked. She moaned a reward for him.

Brevin shook himself, shifting to sit on his butt so he could pull off his boots. He knew his role in this wasn’t just voyeur. Things worked best if he anticipated. Boots off, he shuffled out of his trousers, careful with the painfully tight, hard cock that sprang free to slap his belly. He discarded the idea of tugging it. Wouldn’t give him much relief. She wouldn’t allow him to come yet anyway.

Once naked, he eased into the burbling heat of the pool. A quick dunk underwater wet his skin and let him slick his unruly hair back from his face. Minerals and natural bubbles caressed him as the water further warmed his blood.

Lights from the more public pools behind them limned Eyrhaen and Lanthan in soft white, the long locks of her hair draped across her breasts and shoulders. She had twisted her neck so she could capture Lanthan’s mouth with her own. Their black tongues played between open lips, white teeth flashing in the shadows. One of Lanthan’s hands still massaged one breast, pinching the nipple, but his other hand had slid down, fingers now cupping into her sex.

Humming happily, she pulled her lips from Lanthan and glanced down to check on Brevin. Seeing him in the water, she grinned and merrily turned out of Lanthan’s embrace. Lanthan’s fingers slid from her as she let herself fall backward toward the water.

Brevin caught her, his heartbeat speeding up when he had her delectably naked body in the cradle of his arms. Her long hair trailed like moonlight across the surface of the water as she wound her arms around his neck.

“Kiss me,” she demanded, and he obeyed instantly. Her lips opened under his, and a moan oozed from his throat into hers. She tasted of cool silver, earth, and sweet, savory sauce over fresh meat cooked just so it melted in his mouth. He released her legs so his arm was free to wrap around her back, pinning her to him. Arms fastened around his neck, she pulled her legs up to wind them around his hips. His cock throbbed between them, pressing her belly, and he slid both hands down to palm her ass, the better to press her even closer.

Lanthan was there, behind her. His scent mingled with hers, driving Brevin to suck more deeply at Eyrhaen’s mouth. His hands slid over Brevin’s, encouraging him to spread the cheeks of her ass farther apart. Brevin did and shared what he knew would be a frustration for his friend. Lanthan would want to drive home, slide his cock into either opening exposed by the spread, but he couldn’t. If he so much as tried, the magic that was Eyrhaen would shrivel his erection painfully, so much so that he would not be able to get it up again for at least a moon.

Instead, Lanthan braced his hands beside Brevin’s and knelt in the water. Brevin raised her higher at Lanthan’s nudge, then swallowed her squeal of delight when Lanthan must have started to lick her. It was a good thing she didn’t weigh much — to Brevin, at least — because if she did, he wouldn’t have been able to hold her. It was hard enough to do when his wicked friend, while laving at Eyrhaen’s anus and sex, reached between Brevin’s legs to fondle his balls.

Good thing for him when Eyrhaen ripped her mouth from his and declared, “Enough. Put me down.”

*****************

Click here for the site’s main page for Dark Elves VI: Awakening

I hope that every has/had a happy and healthy Christmas for those who celebrate and a nice day off (I hope) for those who don’t.

Do Not Open Until Christmas

She’d given him a lot of toys as presents, but wouldn’t let him play with himself until Christmas day.

Buy it at Loose Id

BLURB

To Kinig, the dark elves represented everything wonderful and mysterious in the world. If he could become the expert about the elves, his bardic career would be set. It would be dangerous. The elves were known for their dislike of human males. But times had changed and his request to live among the elves for a time was granted, and Kinig was given into the care of Fallil, a bard among the elves.

Fallil didn’t expect to fall in love, but he did. What began as friendship grew into love, and abiding passion. But Fallil knew he had to let Kinig go fulfill his dreams if the two were ever to be truly happy.

Nine cycles of seasons later, Kinig has realized his dreams of fame and is known over two continents as Kinig of the Dark Elves, the one human who knows as much as the raedjour themselves. Now, his thoughts stray back to the man he loves and it is time to return to the Dark Forest.

It’s Kinig’s knowledge that brings him to the attention of a solitary mage who holds the last red elf in his thrall. The red elf, Nialdlye comes to care for Kinig and sees in his stories a possible solution for her own problems. Can the two together break free of the mage’s power and make their way back to Fallil?

Read an excerpt

Pairing: m/m, m/f

Available in ebook at Loose Id

Available in ebook at ARe

Available in ebook at Fictionwise

Available in print at Amazon

Available in print at Barnes & Noble

Available in ebook from Barnes & Noble

For those who’ve been waiting for an m/m relationship in the elves’ world, your wait is over. It’s not ALL m/m, but Kinig, the main character, is gay. It’s not ALL m/m, but there’s a healthy portion of it.

BLURB:

To Kinig, the dark elves represented everything wonderful and mysterious in the world. If he could become the expert about the elves, his bardic career would be set. It would be dangerous. The elves were known for their dislike of human males. But times had changed and his request to live among the elves for a time was granted, and Kinig was given into the care of Fallil, a bard among the elves.

Fallil didn’t expect to fall in love, but he did. What began as friendship grew into love, and abiding passion. But Fallil knew he had to let Kinig go fulfill his dreams if the two were ever to be truly happy.

Nine cycles of seasons later, Kinig has realized his dreams of fame and is known over two continents as Kinig of the Dark Elves, the one human who knows as much as the raedjour themselves. Now, his thoughts stray back to the man he loves and it is time to return to the Dark Forest.

It’s Kinig’s knowledge that brings him to the attention of a solitary mage who holds the last red elf in his thrall. The red elf, Nialdlye comes to care for Kinig and sees in his stories a possible solution for her own problems. Can the two together break free of the mage’s power and make their way back to Fallil?

*******************************
©2008 Jet Mykles, all rights reserved

Rhicard knocked, and the door was opened by a youth. Kinig caught his breath. Yes, all of the elves were stunning, but this one… He stood perhaps a hand shorter than Kinig, with a rounder face than any of the others Kinig had encountered. Not round by human standards, but a softness of curves that gave him a young, vaguely feminine look. Expressive silver eyes twinkled under finely arched white brows, assessing Kinig even as he was assessed. The frank look forced Kinig to reevaluate his initial impression of youth. The thick white silk of his hair was unbound, falling heavily down his bare back and over one shoulder, tucked behind delicately pointed ears, both of which were pierced with silver all along the edge to the tip. Short white trousers were gathered just below his knees and tied low at his hips. No footwear to hide at least three sparkling silver rings around delicate toes. Kinig had never beheld another male wearing so much jewelry.

“You would be Kinig,” he said in a marvelously musical tenor. He stepped back and drew his free arm back in a dramatic sweep. “Please, enter.”

Kinig glanced at Rhicard, who nodded. Kinig obeyed. The room was sparsely furnished, with everything from the narrow tables to the two couches and chairs hugging the walls. This left the bare floor of the center of the room completely empty. As the door was closed behind him, Kinig noted drums of various sizes sitting on the floor, a lute on the table, a strange-looking stringed instrument on one couch, and a number of wind instruments hanging within a cabinet fastened to the wall.

Rhicard spoke from just behind his left shoulder. “Kinig, this is Fallil. Fallil, as you may have guessed, is an entertainer.”

His gaze was drawn to the smaller man. “Entertainer?” Not bard?

The delightful burble of Fallil’s laughter settled over them as he waved them further into the room. “Bard, dancer, actor — I do it all. I’ve sought to fascinate and entertain most of my life.”

And succeeded marvelously, for all Kinig could see. Certainly his own attention was captivated by the slim man who busily rearranged the instruments lying about, clearing the couch. Although somewhat androgynous, there was no doubting he was male. His chest was slim, but the muscles were well defined, tapering in to a narrow waist and a sweet, round little bottom that seemed to defy gravity within his trousers.

Rhicard tapped Kinig’s shoulder, regaining his attention. “This is where I leave you.” Grinning, he nodded toward Fallil. “Fallil is your sponsor. Savous thought, since you are both musicians, you’d have some basis in common. Also, other than perhaps two or three others alive, Fallil knows more about our history than anyone. And his manner of relating what he knows is a lot more fun than most of the rest of us.”

Kinig laughed at the teasing note in Rhicard’s voice.

Fallil appeared beside them to smile up at Rhicard. “You flatter me.”

Rhicard brushed a fond, familiar hand down the other man’s bare shoulder. “Not a bit.”

Kinig blinked, wondering what, if anything, he should read into that touch. Most likely, nothing. He had to remember that the raedjour were very sensual, tactile beings. He’d seen this watching them during the talks with the baron, knowing they restrained themselves due to the situation. Here, there was no reason for restraint. He was in a different world.

Rhicard’s attention was on him again. “I’ll see you soon, Kinig.” Then to Fallil, “Send word if you need me.”

“Only then?” Fallil called after him as he closed the door, smiling. That same smile turned to Kinig. “Are you hungry? Thirsty? You’ve had a long trip.”

He knew that he should be, but he was far too excited to think of something like food. “I’m a little thirsty.”

“Of course you are.” Elegant black hands reached for Kinig’s lute. “May I?”

Enchanted by this gorgeous, very polite creature, Kinig handed over his prized possession.

Fallil handled it with appropriate care. “Set your bag down and, please, sit.”

Kinig did as he was told, settling on a couch as Fallil laid the lute case on the table and opened it. He drew out the instrument and studied it with a critical eye. Kinig watched closely. The lute had been his grandfather’s. It was old but had been lovingly taken care of both by him and his mother’s father. Fallil stroked the neck, inspected the belly and frets, and carefully plucked each string to hear its sound.

Finally, he nodded, laying the instrument down atop its case. “It’s lovely.”

“Thank you.”

He turned toward a side cabinet that held a tray with a pitcher and matching goblets. “Do you play anything else?”

“I play a little harp, but I’m not much practiced.”

Pouring a cup, Fallil glanced at a medium-sized harp in the corner. “Perhaps we can change that.” He tossed a blinding smile over his shoulder. “Eh?”

Was he blushing? Kinig wouldn’t have thought he was capable anymore, not since losing his innocence to a young guardsman many cycles ago. “I’d like that.”

Fallil crossed the room to hold out the small goblet to Kinig. “Now, what has Rhicard told you?”

“That you’re to be my sponsor.”

“Is that all?”

“He explained that it was necessary because not all of the raedjour agree with my presence.”

Fallil nodded, folding gracefully onto the couch beside Kinig. “Yes. But there’s more to it than that.” He rested his arm on the back of the couch, bent at the elbow to prop his temple on his palm. “How much do you know about our society, in relation to humans?”

Kinig sipped the light, fruity wine rather than drink in the shimmer of candlelight on bare onyx skin. “I know that you welcome human women to join you. That you have a spell you can cast to change them into one of you. I know you’re fertile with only one woman ever and that that match is called a truematch. In the past, you kidnapped human women and kept them against their will, but the rhaeja has banned this practice.”

“You know much.” A heavy cascade of smooth, snowy hair bisected Fallil’s chest, a few shining strands hooking around an erect nipple. “Please continue.”

Kinig swallowed a large gulp of wine. “It’s said that there are no other women among you but the humans you converted, but people don’t know whether to believe that or not.”

“No?”

“No.” Kinig shifted, all too aware of the bright silver eyes fastened on him.

“What about human men?”

Kinig shifted in his seat, the soft shirt underneath his jacket suddenly chafing the skin of his chest. “In your history, you killed human men for sport. You allowed very few to pass through the Dark Forest ever, and those only if they stayed on the known roads. Even now, it’s dangerous for a man to travel the forest, even with a sanctioned caravan.”

Through this, Fallil continued to study him, a small smile curving generous lips. Long black fingers toyed with a frayed seam on his trousers. “Yet you asked to come here.”

Kinig’s cock pulsed in time with his heart. He could rarely contain himself in the presence of handsome human men. Seated in private with this exotically beautiful creature, he had no prayer of controlling himself. “I did.”

“May I ask why?”

“I want to learn more about you.”

“So you can write songs about us and become famous?”

Kinig smiled, nervous. “Well, that too. But I am curious.”

“And you realized coming here might be dangerous.”

“I was willing to take that chance.”

Fallil lifted his head, freeing his arm to straighten across the back of the couch. His fingertips feathered over Kinig’s shoulder, barely felt through the thick wool. “And if we never let you go?”

Kinig blinked, then stared at the empty floor in the center of the room. “I…”

“You hadn’t thought of that possibility?”

“No.” He’d thought of death, he’d thought of denial, but it had not occurred to him that the elves would keep him. “I…why?”

Fallil leaned toward him slightly. A lock of white hair dislodged from behind his ear to spill over his smooth cheek. “Let me tell you a truth. We have kept human men in the past. Many, in fact. But only a few survive.” Fallil’s fingertips traced Kinig’s collar, so close to the bare skin of his neck. “Unlike for women, there is no spell to convert a human male. It’s been tried, and it has failed, killing the subject.”

Distracted by the almost touch, Kinig swallowed again. “What do you do with the men that you keep?” He’d heard of such things in other lands, but only in whispered tales of dubious origin.

Fallil edged a little closer to Kinig’s side. “We keep them. We toy with them.” A delicate stroke of warm fingers over his rapidly beating pulse. “We have enormous sexual appetites. Our goddess bred us that way.” One finger traced the hinge of Kinig’s jaw just below his ear. “Since there are so few women, there isn’t a man among us who doesn’t know the pleasures of another man.” Fingertips brushed along his neatly trimmed beard toward his chin, those silver eyes tracking the progress. “Some of us prefer it.”

Kinig shuddered, giving up resistance by leaning into the touch. Fallil closed the distance between them, nimbly catching the goblet about to fall from Kinig’s slack fingers. “Was Savous right about you, Kinig?” His fingers carded back into Kinig’s hair, taking hold and turning the bard’s head so they were face to face. Kinig’s lips sighed open as the other man’s obsidian lips came closer. “Kinig?”

“Yes?”

“Are you a lover of men?”

“Yes.”

Those gorgeous lips curled into a smile, revealing small teeth of a white to rival his hair, brows, and ridiculously long lashes.

Kinig moaned as the slightly smaller man used his grip on Kinig’s neck to brace himself as he gracefully swung one leg over Kinig’s thighs to straddle his lap. Keeping control of the bard’s head, he leaned to the side to place Kinig’s cup on the table beside the couch.

“This isn’t something most human men find pleasant,” Fallil continued as he settled his firm rump on Kinig’s thighs. “Or, rather, allow themselves to enjoy.” With his other hand, he parted the front of Kinig’s jacket, drawing on the string that kept his undershirt closed. Kinig glanced down, gratified to see a bulge that stood testament to Fallil’s arousal. At least they were both sporting erections. “In fact, it drives most men who prefer women to insanity. It bothers them when they feel the attraction toward us, when they can’t help but want to suck cock and feel another tunnel deep into their ass.”

Kinig couldn’t breathe. His heart raced. Unable to help himself, he slid his hands up the firm muscles of Fallil’s thighs until he could sink his fingertips into the meat of the other’s ass. Firm, tight, demanding to be worshipped.

Fallil smiled, sliding his hand within Kinig’s shirt to find the bare skin of his chest. “I can tell that this won’t be a problem for you.”

********************************

Click here to visit the site’s main page on Dark Elves V: Discovery

My silly romp story is now available. Hope you enjoy!

BLURB:

Alex dumped her and Jen’s not sure why. Okay, he’d been her first, but she thought she’d done rather well, sexually speaking. Why did he all of a sudden tell her that it wasn’t working out? What was wrong with her?

Ken, Bart, Davey and Jason—her best friends—all try to convince her there’s nothing wrong with her. In fact they seek to prove it to her… by first-hand example. That’s all well and good until Jen starts freaking out. She’s sleeping with her best friends. All of them.

What’s up with that?

Read an excerpt

Pairing: m/f, m/f/m+

Available in ebook from Loose Id

Available in ebook from ARe

Available in ebook from Fictionwise

Available in ebook from Barnes & Noble

This one is a fun (I hope) romp, pure and simple. I had the idea and much of it written pre-Dark Elves I: Taken and thought it was a neat enough idea to resurrect.

Sorry, no m/m in this one. But… the cps saw a possible connection so maybe there’ll be a follow up story.

BLURB:

Alex dumped her and Jen’s not sure why. Okay, he’d been her first, but she thought she’d done rather well, sexually speaking. Why did he all of a sudden tell her that it wasn’t working out? What was wrong with her?

Ken, Bart, Davey and Jason—her best friends—all try to convince her there’s nothing wrong with her. In fact they seek to prove it to her… by first-hand example. That’s all well and good until Jen starts to freak about that. She’s sleeping with her best friends.

What’s up with that?

****************************

© 2008 Jet Mykles, all rights reserved

“He always was a cocksucker,” announced Jason, pouring the last of the beer from the pitcher into his thick plastic mug. His spiky blond hair glowed orange in the dark parlor lights around us. “I’m sorry I ever introduced you to him, Jen.”

“Yeah.” Bart sat up straight, raised two fingers to his lips, and whistled. When the bartender looked our way, he pointed at the empty pitcher, then held up two fingers. He reached out with one long arm and snatched up the last slice of sausage and olives. “Pussy too. Throws like a girl.”

That got a chuckle from me. “Alex is not the athletic type,” I explained with exaggerated patience, picking apart the wet cardboard coaster that had been soaked under my latest drink. “He’s the workout type.” And, boy, was he! Nice, tight abs; firm, strong arms; a chest that just had to be admired; and a butt so round and perfect that it didn’t look real sometimes. But all from working out at the gym. I think a bit too much on the upper body work had caused his arms to do the thing where he just couldn’t throw a softball right. Wasn’t true of all men, I knew, but it was true of Alex. Sad, really. To see such a marvelous specimen of manhood look so ridiculous on the playing field.

“Muscle-bound pretty boy.” Bart lowered sculpted black brows at me, his look as serious as it could be after we’d finished about a pitcher each. “Truth, Jen. He was a lousy lay, wasn’t he?”

I glared at him. “He did just fine.”

“Do tell!” Bart waggled those same brows. Grinning, he reached up to turn his cap so that the bill covered the back of his neck, and leaned toward me. “Did you test to see if you could bounce on his abs like a quarter? C’mon, spill. He was built like a hamster, right?” His teeth were surprisingly white against the dark background his skin presented. A big, tawny black man with a deep voice and soulful brown eyes, Bart got more chances for sex than any of the rest of us at the table, but he never passed up an opportunity to hear about it.

Ken kicked him underneath the table. “Yeah, jackass, that’s just what she wants to talk about after the asshole dumped her.”

“Oh, fuck you.” Bart threw a wadded-up napkin at him. “I’m just trying to lighten the mood.” He raised his mug over his head. “Good riddance to him anyway.”

Jason, Ken, and quiet, amused Davey all raised their mugs over my head, saluting Bart’s words.

I twisted my mouth into a weak parody of a smile. Actually, I did wish that Bart hadn’t mentioned it. Sex with Alex had been fabulous, to say the least. Alex had been into long, slow fucking with lots of foreplay. Long, slow fucking and foreplay that I would now not get to experience again. It had taken me twenty-five years to find a man to have sex with in the first place — now what was I going to do?

Ken poked my arm. “Quit it,” he said when I glared at him.

I wrinkled my nose at him, but he just rolled his eyes. Ken knew me better than anyone, and he knew I was remembering. My best friend through college and beyond, Ken had heard all of my bitching and whining for the past week since Alex had lowered the boom. He might have been more anxious for me to get over it than I was.

“Now, now, kiddies.” Bart spread his big hands on the pockmarked table before him. He paused while the waitress leaned over him to set down the two new pitchers of beer, admiring the cleavage she displayed for him with a smile. He didn’t go looking for women — they fell at his feet. Which was one of the reasons he and I got along. He saw me as one of the guys, despite the fact that I had tits. It had been that way since we’d met, and we were both very happy with the arrangement. Giving the waitress — who had to be new, since I, a regular, hadn’t ever seen her before — an encouraging smile just before she left, he picked up my mug in one hand and the fresh, frothing pitcher in the other. “Let’s not fight. Let’s just get drunk.” He poured.

Drunk. Yeah. That’s what I needed. I was already on my way, as were we all. Still in our uniforms from the softball game we’d won a few hours ago, we knew we were safe to drink since Bart would send us all home in taxis in a little while anyway. Discussion of the baseball game playing on one of the televisions mounted overhead replaced the dissection of my now nonexistent love life.

Unfortunately, my thoughts would not stray far from Alex. He was the first real boyfriend I’d had in my life, even if the relationship had only been for three months, with him out of town a few weeks during that. The fact that it had ended so abruptly stuck in my craw. I hadn’t done anything wrong. I hadn’t smothered him. I hadn’t done the typical girl things. I’d given him freedom. I’d never denied sex. In my own humble opinion, I’d been a damn fine girlfriend. Discussions with Ken and Bart had both backed me up on this fact. So why…?

“Okay, damn it!” I slapped the table to get their attention. “What’s wrong with me?”

Four pairs of eyes in varying degrees of bleariness looked to me. I’d interrupted some heated conversation that I hadn’t been following.

“Wrong?” Jason blinked half-focused blue eyes at me, perplexed.

“I know, I’m too fucking butch, right? Or am I too plain?” I scraped a hand through the bangs falling in my face. At the moment the hair was certainly a mess, the length of it drawn into a sweaty ponytail down my back, but when it was clean, it fell in gentle waves halfway to my waist. Alex had loved my hair. Or at least, that’s what he’d told me when we’d been sleeping together. I’d never thought the rest of me was all that impressive, but he’d seemed to enjoy me for a time. “What’d I do?”

“Jeez, Jen, give it a rest,” Davey grumbled, attention fixed on the television above.

Jason gave me a commiserating smile. “Yeah, you just forget about him. Ain’t nothing wrong with you.”

“No, Jason.” I jabbed my finger on the table. “Alex left me, and all he’d say was, ‘It wasn’t working out.’ That’s bullshit. I wanna know why. I don’t wear dresses and shit. Is that it? I’m not all that ‘feminine’? Should I start wearing makeup and high heels?”

Ken slapped the back of my head, almost making me knock my forehead on the mug sitting in front of me. “Now you’re being stupid.”

Scowling, I backhanded his shoulder. “Then what?”

Ken fixed big brown eyes on me. He was drunk, but he handled it well. “Alex was a first-class idiot. I told you that when you started dating him.”

“He couldn’t handle a woman like you.” I turned to blink at Davey, thrown for a second by the light sheening his glasses so he looked like one of those cartoon characters with no eyes. “Not a lot of men can.”

“And most of us know it.” Bart picked up a cold slice of pepperoni, then shook his head and put it down carefully. “Some of us’ll try, then run for the hills.”

“Bastards, all of you,” I grumbled.

“No doubt, no doubt.”

“Why don’t you sleep with one of us?” The table went silent as the weight of Davey’s soft-spoken words hit us. I wasn’t the only one staring at him with my mouth open.

He rolled his eyes and looked at us all. “What? Am I the only one who thought about it?”

I said, “Yeah,” but I heard the noes, which just made me turn my unhinged-jaw stare around the table. “What?!”

More rolled eyes from different heads.

“Oh, come on, Jen,” Bart scoffed. “You didn’t think we hadn’t thought about sleeping with you?”

He had? Mr. Snap-my-fingers-and-pussy-comes-running? “No.”

The back of my head got slapped again, Ken muttering, “Stupid.”

“You too?” I cried, too stunned to even grumble about being hit. Ken and I were friends. I’d heard him talk about his various girlfriends. We weren’t like that.

Because his black hair was cut short around the ears and neck, I clearly saw the flush that turned his skin a few shades darker, even if he tried to ignore it. “Jesus, Jen, how blind are you?”

“But…” I spread my hands on the table before me, looking around at them. Mostly I looked at necks and chests because, all of a sudden, I wasn’t comfortable looking at their faces.

Jason laughed. “Don’t worry, Jen. It’s not like any of us were going to do it.” He scowled. “Wait, that came out bad.”

Bart chuckled. “Jen, we’re all very aware that you don’t look at us that way.” He gave my hand a brotherly pat. “We’re your friends. That’s okay.”

“Although” — Davey held up a long finger — “if you really wanted casual sex, you’ve got four outlets right here.”

Ken’s blow to Davey’s upper arm was harder than what he’d dealt me. “Shut up, asshole. You’re making her uncomfortable.”

“I’m just saying…”

“She heard what you said.” Ken picked up his mug, and I barely heard the next mumble. “And hopefully she’ll be too drunk to remember this conversation.”

But it was out there, and I’d had way too much beer to censor myself. “I can’t sleep with any of you!” Judging from the nervous glances at the mostly empty tables around us, my voice was just a touch high. I tried to tone it down. “You’re my friends. I can’t…”

Bart patted my back. “Don’t think about it, honey. Just write it off as Davey being an asshole.”

“He is an asshole.” Jason glared at Davey.

Davey glared back. “Bite me, redneck.”

“You know what, when was the last time you even had a girlfriend?” Jason bristled, puffing his chest out toward Davey.

Who was not impressed. He tipped his head, scoffing. “I am not going to justify myself to you.”

“That hard up, are you? The porn you look at all day getting to you?”

“Yeah, keep it up. You wish you had the brains to do my job.”

“Brains? It doesn’t take brains…”

The conversation, such as it was, deteriorated. I tuned it out, glancing surreptitiously at the others, only to find them quite studiously not looking my way. We were going to let Davey’s unexpected offer go, then, were we? Okay, that was good. Fine by me.

I think.

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