Storm of Pleasure

by Eve Bradley

  Sarth was granted a few sneaky looks and curious greetings, but he smiled and continued on his way. It was now obvious he was taking them towards the pillars.

  As they went through, she was astounded to see a beautiful oasis. It was lit with the same trees with their orbs overhanging. There were small trails of rippling blue water leading to a central pool. At the side of the cave was a strange-looking hut, woven with dark reeds and flared with mopey bits of weeping willow. There was a circle of rocks outside of it and a few ornate lamps.

  “Aisha?” Sarth called. “Mother?”

  From inside the hut, there was a groaning, and then a swirl of purple poured out of the shelter, arriving in a combined form before them all. She wore thin robes that sheerly concealed her form, similar in shapeliness to Mela. Her skin was a light purple, her hair a deep violet chaos that fell down to the backs of her knees. There were parts that were swept into tresses, but her hair, like theirs, seemed to consist partly of smoke and flame, and was ever moving.

  “The Daughter of Fire,” Sarth’s voice was pompous. “Peacequeen of these years.”

  The female fixated his violet eyes onto Cat, and when their eyes met, Cat could feel how old the woman’s soul was. She was something born of the original magic that flooded the realm. Flashes of formation and the primitive years of their earth flashed across her mind, but they slipped through the cracks in her mind as quickly as they came.

  “Darkness lives within you,” she came forward, lush lips parted. Her voice was strong and poised, built of nature and judgment. “But how?”

  “The Sultan’s mage called it a block...” Catryn supplied, discomfort wriggling in her gut. She hardly noticed when Maru grabbed hold of her wrist.

  “Impossible,” Sarth debated. “The Peacequeen cursed by darkness?”

  “You come for answers. Answers that only we can give you, if you only knew,” the purple woman’s head tilted, and she seemed nearly softened to her predicament. But she didn’t need pity.

  “I do need answers. I want to be able to keep those I love safe.”

  “You are unable right now?” she smiled dangerously. “Fiery love, perhaps I can help.”

  “You stand before Aisha, the oldest of our kind. Our leader. Keeper of the Djinn.”

  “Then what are the creatures out possessing humanity? The Djinn who are out there attacking mortals?” Catryn begged for an answer.

  “The shells of us...overridden by Vulzos?” the Sarth’s blue lip curled on one side. “We ourselves don’t know much about them. But truly, you didn’t think that was it? That the magic wielders of the east would be shriveled and void of souls, only hungry for humans?”

  “Magic wielders of the east?” Catryn repeated it, a completely new prospect. “That’s one I’ve never heard before.”

  They both hissed.

  “We live in secrecy as to not bear the detriment of humanity. Peaceking Greguene created this safe haven for us after defeating a form of Vulzon’s endless endeavors to take humanity.”

  “Greguene. His name,” Catryn let out a sigh of relief. “Why did he do that?”

  “He was the reason that magic dwindled in our world,” Aisha spoke as if peering through her. “With his choice to defeat the darkness, all magic beings, the original owners of the earth, were stifled. But we exist still, waiting for our chance to repopulate.”

  “Greguene felt extreme guilt for what he’d done. He built havens for every non-human all across the world,” Mela explained.

  “I have heard stories of the non-human’s still existing. No one ever thought it to be true,” Maru contributed quietly.

  Catryn’s head spun, and she felt a hallowed and pure atmosphere around them. She’d come from whoring in the slums of Athos to speaking with an ancient Djinn. Intrigued and insatiable, she could hardly keep the questions from flying off her tongue disrespectfully.

  “Vulzon...who is this?”

  “The god of death and destruction,” Aisha’s voice felt like a stab of haunting that ran like wildfire through her veins.

  “I didn’t know the gods had names,” she admitted.

  “Of course they do. There are hundreds of gods, the main forming the top elements of this world. But they are entities unlike anything mortals can imagine. They are the cores of the elements that make up all of humanity. Down to the last spider...some of their essence lives on. But they are also sentient. The gods and goddesses naturally work in harmony. Without them, there is no balance. But there are the unruly. Vulzon, in his nature, being the essence of chaos, cannot help himself. It was easier before when the ancients communed directly with them. When mortals were created by a bored god...everything changed. The balance was thrown. But although mortals have proven fickle and foolish, their ability to learn and overcome has kept them stable. Slowly the disconnect between magic and mortals began. Thus the gods ordained the Peaceking and now queen. It’s their last connection to the earth, the best chance they have of keeping the precious humans alive. You are their Champion.”

  Cat bit her lip, utterly crushed by the weight of the words.

  “Vulzon has come now because he feels that this is his best chance of taking the reigns from the other gods,” Aisha added. “He cursed the daughter of fire and gave her limited power. Though you were meant to be the most powerful Peacequeen ever to exist. A daughter of Celosia.”

  “You mean...” Catryn needed to know. Her heart pounded in rapid heaves.

  “You are a demi-goddess, fiery love. Celosia offered to pour herself into you to thwart Vulzon’s plans. But he must have gotten word and somehow cursed you because the darkness on you stinks.”

  It was impossible, wasn’t it? To be born of a goddess? Fate had a funny way of placing her in positions where she had to manage not desiring unlimited power and wealth. But fate also had placed her into a household filled with degradation and sorrow. Every fiber of her being had been suppressed beneath her father’s hand of abuse. The years of feeling like a wicked, disgusting person, holding onto that as her identity, had formed her into a cutthroat whore whose only desire was to live. She’d chased life like a wolf chased a rabbit. Life for her had always been elusive, the temptation of a better one always dangled in her dreams. Now she was supposedly a demi-goddess? And, from what she’d just heard, it was her responsibility to take on a god?

  “Help me,” Catryn’s voice was a breath. “Help me defeat them.”

  “We do not meddle in the affairs of humans,” Sarth said a bit more harshly than was needed.

  “If you don’t, do you not think Vulzon will find your haven as well? Do you think he’ll stop taking your people and stripping them into hollow flaming beasts? He wants you because you can possess people, and if he can take over people, he will starts wars. Humans will kill each other. There will be nothing left. Humans are unable to fight against the demon Djinn without magic,” Cat grew angry. “And I cannot do much without breaking the block. Please. You can’t abandon humanity.”

  “Our part is to play no part in these wars,” Aisha responded, the distance between Cat’s hostile tone and her quiet one magnified. “The Djinn will not fight against the demons that Vulzon created. Our magic doesn’t work this way.”

  “How does it work, then?” Catryn spat.

  “We work only through wishes. We can do little magic for ourselves, but we need the connection of a human in order to wield the highest form of our magic. Seeing as we live without, we are a humble folk. We are safe and content here. Perhaps long ago we may have longed to find a human to help unlock the depths of our magic, but now, there is no purpose.”

  “And my block? You won’t be able to dissolve it, then?” Catryn fumed.

  “I fear not. But you may have access to Greguene’s texts. We kept everything of his safe. Perhaps you may learn something there.”

  “We will set you up with your own space,” Mela’s voice broke through the thick wall of Cat’s anger.

  As they were dismissed, Catryn looked up in
to Sarth’s eyes. But he looked away quickly.

  “Demi-goddess,” Maru snickered, splashing Catryn with water. “Daughter of fire. At least you have an explanation for your terrible temper now, don’t you?”

  “My temper?” Catryn sat on the edge of the river, staring into the electric blue water. The liquid itself was somehow luminescent. It lit up Maru’s dark skin and revealed her fit legs and undergarments. Catryn felt disgusting. Her skin was still caked with dirt. If she was to be clean, she’d do it without modesty.

  They were settled in a somewhat private space, but not wholly concealed. She didn’t mind, and she was sure the Djinn had no qualms towards bodily modesty based on Aisha’s sheer covering.

  She tore the clothes from her body and hopped down into the water. Maru stared everywhere but at her, and Catryn couldn’t help but smile at the awkwardness. It was always humorous to her when she was around those that had been taught to be ashamed of bodies. It wasn’t like she was anything special. Not like Mela or Aisha, and they were thousands of years old if she’d gathered it all correctly.

  “I think I’m quite level-headed,” she smirked. “I’m not the one who poisoned a King on a whim.”

  “Ah, you would have too. I guarantee it. And you know what? I don’t regret it. Never will,” Maru chuckled, moving her fingers against her neck.

  “So that’s what the Yamarian’s were talking about. Do you think they knew...?” she added.

  “You broke your promise,” Catryn said, using one finger to lift her chin so that she was looking into her eyes. “You could do nothing, and you still stayed?”

  Maru huffed and rolled her eyes. Instead of keeping her eyes to the side, she moved forward. Cat was taken aback and sunk into the water slightly as Maru stood over her.

  “I’ll tell you something, Peacequeen. I don’t like when people order me around. I did what I felt like doing at the moment. You can’t make people promise something like that.”

  “Why not?” she snapped, feeling beguilingly small beneath Maru’s sudden flash of dominance.

  “Because you wouldn’t have left me.”

  Cat let her finger fall. She was enamored with Maru’s boldness, the curve of her lips, and the wildness of her hair. Being so close was informal, and she could tell that her nakedness started to cause discomfort again. She backed away, and set about washing her hair and body.

  She wouldn’t allow herself to care for Maru. Not in the way she knew her heart could so easily go to. She couldn’t help but imagine their kiss in the tent, and it sent shivers through her body.

  Sarth came ambling down the path. Catryn didn’t hurry to cover herself. She was sure he wouldn’t mind, and honestly, at that point, she’d lost all semblance of caring. Sarth’s broad blueish gray shoulders swayed in masculine charm as he walked. He wore a shirt now, though it did have a deep v and was loose on his frame. She wondered if he’d come to take them to the library.

  Catryn was not adept at reading. Glend had tried to teach her, and she could make her way through a sentence, but the length she had to struggle through it was aggravating. She wished that she’d taught herself when she was young, especially now that they'd be granted access to Greguene’s age-old texts.

  “I have your new clothing ready here,” he came to kneel at the edge of the river, knee resting in a pad of moss. “But I see you’re not ready yet.”

  “Almost,” Catryn came forward and glanced back at Maru, who’d crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head angrily when Cat beckoned her.

  “What else do you have for me?” Cat spoke in a sly tone.

  Sarth leaned forward and smiled, genuinely amused.

  “My mother would disapprove of you speaking to me this way,” he said simply. “In human years, I am only nineteen.”

  Catryn felt extremely awkward then and hurriedly stormed out of the water. She snatched the robes and dressed quickly.

  “Well, young Sarth. I’ll pretend like that didn’t happen. You did walk up to two naked humans,” Catryn tied the robe at the waist and enjoyed the soft material drying her wet skin.

  “One and a half,” he cocked his brow, and Catryn was unable to decipher what way he meant her to respond.

  “How old are you really?” she asked.

  “Three-hundred and eighty years old,” he smirked. “Twenty years to us is like one for you.”

  “Ay,” Maru shouted. “Scram. I need to dress, and unlike her, I have a bit of modesty.”

  Sarth stifled a chuckle and bowed his head, the blue strands lowering nearer to his lifted pectorals.

  “I’ll wait for you at the center,” he said, addressing Catryn with gleaming wolf eyes, his ethereal hair swaying as he spoke. “Aisha has planned a celebration in your honor.”

  Catryn swallowed, freezing at the prospect. He walked off, and Catryn couldn’t help but be attracted to his stride but chastised herself. Could she ever keep her mind off sexual things?

  She settled into the realization that they’d be gathered with hundreds of Djinn. A celebration was the last thing they needed at this point in time. She needed only to learn more about the past in order to secure their future. If the Djinn would not fight against the darkness, how could they possibly hope to survive?

  “Well, I don’t know about you, Peacequeen, but I am getting very drunk tonight,” Maru commented.

  Lucarian

  The Raspandian Castle

  The day he was crowned, he’d drunk to his heart’s content. He enjoyed the adoration of the crowds as they fawned over him in the crisp northern air. They’d hosted tournaments, went hunting, and he’d enjoyed retaining the attention of his courtiers. His mothers and sisters pretended they didn’t care that it was he who was now in control, but he knew deep down inside that it was Angeliva who was especially crushed. He’d made a point to fondle his crown in front of her, as well as mention all of the potential suitors he’d been cooking up.

  The court was unhappy with his choice of wife. And he was sure he’d made many great lords and kings angry. But they’d be pacified with his sisters. They’d have enough connections to forge at least five good ties. Promises of peace, and they’d have to be strategic.

  The reality was that he wanted to find them the least enjoyable matches, aside from Elfie. She deserved someone who at least would treat her fairly. The others...he snickered with glee behind his hand when he thought about booting them out of the home. If only there were time.

  But that was why he’d make Margaret his queen. They didn’t need a grand ceremony. Just something...simple would suffice. A simple ceremony for a simple girl. And she was that, even though she was brave. But maybe stupid people were overly brave. Braver than they should be. Still, knowing that she would do everything that he asked while he was away demolishing Vault’s and kingdoms and spirits, it caused him relief.

  “Are you warm enough?” Margaret asked him.

  They looked out into the forest from their tent, drinking blackberry wine and enjoying the thrill of the chill and stars above them. They were camped a few miles outside of Rhaspandar, settled in the forest that every king had been crowned. It was the tradition to give your vows to the mountains and earth, and then to spill a few drops of blood on the old stone altar where hundreds of kings before him had done.

  This altar felt haunted. He wouldn’t have gone if it weren’t for his mother expressing adamantly that he not throw away the sanctity of their traditions. But when he’d smeared his blood over the cold stone, he swore he’d heard wolves, and the memories of nightmares of diabolical creatures with wolves heads and men’s bodies returned to him.

  But he wouldn’t fear these foolish things. He was a King.

  “I’m just fine, mouse,” he said.

  Just then, he heard the wolves again.

  Their ceremony was monotonous. The holy man his mother chose was more of a dolt than he could have ever expected. What really irritated him was that through this union, they were asking for the blessing of the gods a
nd goddesses. The ceremony itself involved the burning of the fir branches and lighting one hundred candles for a sought after one hundred years of life. The holy man chanted some words in the old language.

  “The man who is the home. The wife who warms his hearth. Forever tied. For love and life. May the gods and goddesses shine blessings and have no ill will upon this union. In truth and light, these two are bound, forevermore,” he droned.

  “In truth and light forevermore,” Lucarian and Margaret repeated.

  Margaret’s voice was barely a whisper. He glanced at her quickly to see if she was happy- if she was looking at him with loving, adoring eyes. But she stared at the floor like a fearful child, and he sighed. He shouldn’t have expected it from her, but he thought maybe she’d be a bit excited given that she was going to be queen. Not only this, but they shared a connection no one else in the world could ever understand. He was the only one who would be able to please her the way she liked. It was just lucky that fate had brought them together.

  His mother and sisters stood at one side, his council, Peltyre, and the oaf Zothar on the other. It was a small, demure gathering. Margaret wore a sheer light gown formed of lace. He could see every lovely curve of her and delighted in the swell of her breasts under the fabric. He wanted men to see her like this. He wanted the entire Kingdom to see her naked. She was, after all, extremely beautiful. A bit thin but delicious in all ways she was delicate. He wanted them to see her naked and spread for him, and wanted everyone to envy him as he plunged his cock into her tight, wet, cunt. Luckily for him, the ceremony that followed involved just this.

  His erection was growing as the ceremony closed. He needed to relax.