At the King's Pleasure (Epic Fantasy BDSM Romance) (2 page)

“
And we weren’t?”

“
It was the Goddesses’ hope
that by having us all depend on each other, it would keep the
peace. That we would seek friendship, not war.”

I snorted. “She underestimated us
then.” The Orlyx to the north had abundant water and had watched
our lands crack from heat without offering us a drop. My father had
said it was because of an old blood feud with our family, one we’d
forgotten but the Orlyx clearly hadn’t. Their army was now poised
at the border, fully capable of destroying Siana. We were so weak
from thirst it would be easy--there wasn’t enough water anymore to
sustain our own army, a fact that kept both my sister and I awake
at night.

The Mother shrugged. “Judge in the
balance, child. We don’t look so bad then. There’s always more love
than war.”

“
The King does not love
me.”

She patted my hand. “Do not worry about
him. You have your own magic, you know.”

“
I do?”

She gave a decisive nod.“He will not
hate you for long, I promise. You have Goddess given charms and
your part in the magic is assured.”

***

After the high priestess
left, I spent my remaining time in prayer to the Goddess. Soon the
barbarian king would come for me, having demanded my presence among
his people before our wedding. Kneeling did not seem sufficient and
I prostrated myself on the floor, tears slipping from my cheeks to
the rug underneath. I cried for my parents and from fear of the
unknown. Despite the High Priestess’ reassurance, I did not know if
I could bear what was to come, yet I knew I must.
Please let me be strong enough to bring the
rain.

When the sun’s light had yielded to
darkness, the castle guards came for me. They escorted me to the
King’s quarters where two Daliki women presented me with another
gauze dress, this one in a blush rose color. They removed the gown
I wore, but, to my surprise, did not move to put on the new one.
Instead, they bowed and made to leave. When I went to put the dress
on myself, they rushed forward and pushed my hands away with primal
grunts. The tongue stone around my neck gleamed as they
spoke.

I was to stay naked.

“
Naked for what?” I asked,
irritated. Unlike me, they wore goat hide trousers and skimpy
halter tops of roughly woven fabric. Why did I have to bare myself
for all to see?

They shrugged and looked at me,
puzzled. I repeated myself, but they only shook their
heads.

“
Nod if you can understand
me,” I said.

Both ladies shrugged again, clearly not
understanding what I said. Apparently the magic of the tongue stone
only worked in one direction. Filing past me, they left and I was
alone.

The King’s quarters were a mirror of my
sister’s and designed for royal guests. A drawing room served as
the center of the suite, which contained several bedrooms of
varying sizes. I was in the largest bedroom, the one for the
highest ranking member of a visiting party. The other rooms were
for servants and lesser nobles accompanying their liege.

Eschewing the bed, I perched on a chair
and waited, tapping my foot when impatience got the best of
me.

After a time, the door opened and I
reflexively put a hand over my breasts with the other going to
cover the nexus between my legs. King Kafele entered the room,
smirking when he saw my attempt at modesty. In one hand he carried
an ink pot and a length of gold chain in the other.

Observing basic courtesy, I stood and
gave an awkward bow as I greeted him. “My King.”

He cocked his head and smiled in
approval. “Princess Liana.”

Striding across the room, his powerful
legs flexing, he came to stand in front of me, his crotch at
eye-level. I gulped at the thought that soon I would be expected to
spread my legs for what was between his.

He followed my gaze and seemed to
intuit my thoughts because he laughed. With gentle strength, he
pulled me back on my feet and directed me to the center of the
room. Swatting my hands away, he forced me to expose myself to his
scrutiny.

My breathing quickened as he examined
me. When he reached to touch my shoulder, I jumped with a gasp. He
found that funny and chuckled. Holding my gaze, he ran a finger
across my collarbone and around the necklace. Arching an eyebrow he
said, “Tongue stone?”

I nodded.

Dark eyes locked with mine, he cupped
my breast, thumb grazing a nipple. “What we do, princess, requires
very few words.”

I shuddered at the electric sensation
he elicited. My eyes widened when he switched breasts, this time
caressing my nipple and then tugging it sharply. I gasped, the
pressure on my breast pulling at pleasure deep inside
me.

No one had touched me like this before.
There had been a prince from Atsline who had attempted to corner me
in the hall once, but my guards stopped him. He hadn’t had a chance
to do more than press his damp lips against mine, hands groping my
body, squeezing me as if shopping for ripe fruit. Much to my
relief, Father had escorted him out of the castle
personally.

I’d never wanted romance, never thought
I’d be standing naked in front of any man, let alone a barbarian
king. Which meant the prince was the sum total of my experience
with men.

With a grunt that sounded satisfied to
my ears, the Koti guided me back to lay back on the bed. I tried to
resist, not wanting to make my marriage bed before the wedding, but
he gave a slow shake of his head and simply shoved me where he
wanted me to go.

Straddling my hips, he pulled a length
of rope from his pocket and fastened my hands to the headboard. I
pulled on my bonds and looked at him, unable to keep fear from
shining in my eyes. He patted me on the thigh and gave me a not
unkind smile as he moved down to spread my legs.

I fought him, kicking my legs and
twisting my hips in an attempt to evade him, but he was too fast
and too strong. Before I knew it, he had fastened an ankle to each
bed post. He sat back on his heels for a moment and just looked at
me.

“
Release me,” I said, my
voice terse. “I am your bride, not a whore to be taken as you wish,
Sir.”

The king put a hand over my mouth and
shushed me. He reached over with his free hand and grabbed the
inkpot off the side table. With one last shush, he released me and
stirred the ink with what turned out to be a paint
brush.

Biting his lip in concentration, he
swirled ink across my stomach. The cool liquid raised goose bumps
and he gave an appreciative nod as my nipples tightened into stiff
nubs. His own hardness rose to press against my pubic mound. He
felt large and I became alarmed at the thought of him inside
me.

Oblivious to my distress, he moved to
my chest, dipping the paint brush in the pot and dabbing Daliki
glyphs on my skin. After my chest, came my arms, then my legs
including the flesh closest to my core. I craned my neck to see
what he had drawn and found a horse racing on my abdomen. The rest
of it was unrecognizable to me, a mish-mash of ancient glyphs that
no one but the barbarians used anymore. My tutors had tried to show
me the outdated language, but it had not held my interest. Now I
wished I had paid better attention.

With every inch of me covered in
glyphs, the Koti took a deep breath and blew his hot breath across
my skin to dry the ink. When he was satisfied it was dry, he untied
me and nudged me to roll over.

I made to protest, but he held up the
ink pot.

“
Oh, fine. Paint me then.” I
lay on my stomach and shivered as the ink hit my warm
skin.

The Koti followed the same general path
as he had on my front. Starting with the small of my back, moving
up along my spine to my neck and down my arms. For my ass, he first
massaged my flesh before applying the ink. He did my legs last,
painting a trail down to my ankles.

Again, he blew on me to dry the ink and
then rolled me back over, securing my hands and feet as
before.

“
Wait, you don’t have to tie
me up.” I tugged my hand out of his only to have him recapture it a
second later. “I’ll lay still, I promise.”

He only shook his head and continued to
fasten my limbs to the bed. I understood his reasoning when,
instead of applying more ink like I had anticipated, he leaned down
and suckled my breasts into stiff points. He lashed me with his
tongue until my breathing came fast and my back arched up to meet
his mouth.

He smiled in approval and reached for
the gold chain he’d had earlier. My eyes widened when I saw the
clips on the end.

“
No.” I kicked my legs
hoping by some miracle to break loose, but the rope
held.

Ignoring my protest, he advanced on me,
warm palms smacking my breasts lightly. I recoiled, afraid, but the
strikes did not hurt, rather they made my nipples ache in a most
pleasant manner. A wet craving moistened my core, threatening to
flood the banks of my innermost lips.

“
Oh,” I sighed. “That feels
good.”

He then fastened a clip to one nipple
and then the other. They bit into me with a sting, tearing a
high-pitched squeal from my throat.

“
Please, oh please, take
them off, Your Grace.” I writhed on the bed, gasping as pain
replaced pleasure.

He watched me with a solemn expression.
Then he tugged on the chain linking the clips and I hissed as sharp
pin-pricks assaulted my breasts, filling them with a swollen
heaviness. With a satisfied nod, he moved down my body, laying the
chain along my midline to my pubic mound. Dark eyes boring into
mine, he parted my folds, peeling back to reveal my innermost
layer. His fingers plucked at my core, caressing me with a rough
touch.

In the beginning, I was so shocked at
the intrusion, I felt nothing, but he kept stroking me with an even
rhythm and my body finally responded with a squirm of the
hips.

I didn’t understand the sensations he
evoked. I burned with desire that left me feeling empty. I needed
him, like a flame needs a wick. Needed him to mate me, to thrust
into me, before the tenterhooks of pain twisted into pleasure
became unbearable.

He seemed to know when the realization
struck me, as he gave a curt nod, his gaze never wavering from my
face. Bending down, he brought his mouth to my folds and kissed me
with a touch so light, a feather would have had more force. His
tongue then wiggled its way into my core.

I gasped, and, despite wanting to keep
still so he wouldn’t stop, my body convulsed under his touch. He
lapped me with his tongue, working the small nub between my legs
until I could think of nothing other than releasing the sweet
tension he had stoked within me.

My hands twisted in their bonds,
grabbing the rope in an effort to brace myself against shattering
sensation. My breath came in shallow pants and my hips bucked like
a wild animal, reaching for him, wanting more.

He stopped and when I looked down to
see why, he showed me a third clip attached to the same
chain.

“
Oh, no. Not there.” I
couldn’t keep myself from begging.

He raised his eyebrows at me, unmoved
by my distress.

“
Please, my Koti.” I used
the Dalik word for king, doing my best to get the accent
right.

He gave me an impatient look and
fastened the clip in a place meant for pleasure. To my surprise it
didn’t hurt, rather it intensified my arousal, rubbing against my
nub, teasing me so that I missed his tongue. When he pulled on the
chain once again, that all changed. I arched up off the bed,
moaning. Pain tinged with pleasure took over my senses. For a brief
moment, I ceased to exist, to even know myself, there was no room
for anything except the knowledge of his touch.

He untied me then, massaging my wrists
and ankles, helping me sit and holding me back from standing too
soon. Blood rushed to my head and pounded my temples in time with
the throbbing at my breasts and between my legs.

My hand trembling in his, I pushed
myself to my feet, wobbling a bit but otherwise steady. The Koti
picked up the dress the Daliki women had presented to me upon my
arrival and put it on me, fluffing it around my body and arranging
the drape.

Leading me with the chain, he walked me
to the other side of the room to stand in front of the mirror. A
strange foreigner stared back at me in the glass. Black spirals
adorned my cheeks and my eyes had been highlighted with thick lines
that extended up and out in a cat-eye slant. My hair was the only
thing I recognized. The dress did nothing to hide the designs the
barbarian had painted on my skin and the chain dangled over the
collar within easy reach of the Koti.

“
You are ready,” he said.
With a firm pull on the chain, he led me away from the
mirror.

He threw the doors open and we walked
into the drawing room where a throng of Daliki turned to look at
us. On some unseen cue, a drum beat sounded a slow, heavy rhythm.
The crowd swayed in time with the drum.

“
What is happening?” I cast
a bewildered look at the Daliki surrounding us, watching us with
impassive eyes.