by Lani Aames
She is almost there, once again on the edge of the precipice, but his hands grasp her hips and he stops her. She trembles violently.
"Beloved, please," she whimpers, tossing her head from side to side. "Please release me from my torment."
"Not yet," he says again and kisses her. His lips taste sweetly of her own dew as his tongue delves into her mouth. Her fingers clench in his hair and her hips thrust toward him, but he holds her firmly away from him.
Time! She wishes it could stand still for them, but it races forward whenever they are together. She has been away much longer than she should have. She only came tonight for a quick kiss and caress. When they brought one another to ecstasy in the passageway, she should have dressed and left right then. He swung her up into his arms, and she couldn't resist another session of his passion. Now, too much time has passed.
"Beloved," she says as she draws away from his kisses, but flings her arms around him. "I should go back before I am missed. I would rather die a thousand deaths than leave you, but I do not want you in danger."
"Soon," he croons, his warm breath tickling her ear. "Soon we will be together and far away from here. But tonight is for our love."
Gently, he loosens her arms and slips her off his thighs. He lies back on the pallet and she looks at him. His face is in shadow and she cannot see his expression, but his manhood is taut, gently curving upward. Her pulse pounds throughout her body, the drumming echoed in her swollen nub. She moves to her knees beside him and reaches for his enormous length.
"Come here, my One," he says and catches her hand. "We will love one another together."
He indicates for her to straddle him so that her back is to him. He positions her so that her legs are tucked under his shoulders, and his mouth easily finds the center of her pleasure. She moans as his tongue licks greedily at her soft folds. Then she bends and places her hands around his shaft. He stiffens and pushes into her grasp as her mouth covers the engorged head. She rakes her tongue across the tender underside again and again and is teased by the same motions he creates around her nub.
She takes as much of him as she can into her mouth and begins the in and out rhythm he enjoys. His lips do the same to her nub as his hands squeeze her buttocks. Soon, she can barely breathe or think as her hips quicken and his lips move faster. Then a fingertip eases just inside the tightness of her anus, massaging in time to their movements, and she is swept away on a wave of bliss. She cries out against his manhood and her excitement ends his torture as well. Warm fluid spurts into her mouth as she rides the crest of sensation that has threatened to tear her asunder.
And then she feels rough hands on her, pulling her off of her lover. She senses more than sees him rolling to his feet, a feral growl on his lips. More hands fasten onto her body, holding her back as she strains to free herself, to reach her lover. The strange hands touch her in places they shouldn't touch. They hold her arms outstretched and her legs far apart. A hand clamps over her wet portal of pleasure.
"Let her go!" her lover snarls, struggling against his captors. "You want me, not her! Free her!"
"On your knees, novice!" The dark and dangerous voice of the Dark Priest commands her lover from beneath his hood.
"No!" she screams. "We have done nothing wrong!"
The robed men who hold her lover drive him to his knees.
"That is for the royal physician to decide," the Dark Priest rasps. He nods and something hard and leathery touches the entry to her portal. Pain rips through as it is forced inside, where only moments before she had felt pure ecstasy. Then she understands.
"NOOOOO!" she screams and cannot stop. "NONONONONO!"
The destruction of her maidenhead means her death and the death of her lover! It is the only way the Dark Priest can rid himself of her lover and the conspiracy against him.
She is gagged to stifle her tormented screams. Before she is carried away, her lover manages to escape his captors for a brief moment and embraces her one last time.
"Forgive me," he whispers into her ear before they take him away. "Remember, my One…forever!"
"Nooooo…." Lia moaned. She was on her knees, her hand lying lightly on the stone block. Tears streamed from her eyes, and her breathing came in hitching gasps. She could hardly bear witnessing the discovery and separation of the lovers. Her heart felt as if it were shattering in her chest.
Lia was left with the terrible feeling that the lovers had never been reunited.
When her breathing had evened and the tears had stopped, only then did she stand on shaky legs and press the block of stone. Like the mechanism at the top of the steps, the doorway opened almost silently. She wiped at her tear-stained face and crossed the threshold.
Immediately, the wall behind her slid together soundlessly. She whirled around and flashed her light over the stone blocks. The stones were almost seamless, and she might not have noticed them at all if she hadn't known they were there.
Lia shone the light around. Like the passages, the floor was layered in sand. To the right was a large archway and to the left was what looked like a crack in the natural rock wall creating a crevice barely wide enough for a person to walk through.
The archway would only take her back to the beginning of the maze. The crevice would take her where she needed to go. As long as she still remembered what she learned while inhabiting the woman in her visions, she could always find the way out. She turned left.
Lia crossed the room then took a step into the crevice, almost expecting the walls to begin to close in on her. She waited, holding her breath, but didn't hear anything. She had to go on if she wanted to find out what all of this was about. She took a few more tentative steps forward, then she was racing along as fast as she could.
The crevice was almost straight, veering neither to the left or right. She ran until the stitch in her side caught again, and she was forced to slow.
Where could Mac be? she thought guiltily. It had been a long while since he and his whereabouts had crossed her mind. She had gotten so caught up in the drama in her visions that she had allowed it to push aside what should have been her main concern.
Minutes passed like hours before she saw a faint light in the distance. The end of the crevice was near. She limped the last few steps out of the crevice and into the Chamber of Zamar.
The huge cavern could be nothing else.
The walls shimmered with a gentle glow that lighted the entire chamber. She blinked against the sudden light after hours of darkness and took two more steps into the huge chamber.
A temblor moved through the rock, and she felt the reverberation throughout her body. She turned in time to see the walls settle into place, only a thin line marking where the crevice had been.
Lia knew she should panic, but she didn't as she waited for another set of moving gears to create another opening. Long minutes passed, but nothing happened. No new exit was created.
She was trapped. She didn't know the way out of the chamber. What knowledge she had gained from the woman didn't cover how to escape the chamber, only how to find it.
A thought suddenly made her feel guiltier. What if Mac had discovered one of these silent passages that closed as soon as he stepped through? She should have looked beyond the row of boulders, searched the wall for a thin line that indicated the secret opening.
But there had been no footprints in the sand. How could he have possibly reached an opening without stepping onto the sand?
Lia took a deep breath. First things first. Find out what had compelled her to come to this chamber, then find a way out. She remembered the way back to the cavern where Mac had disappeared. She could find it again and do another, more thorough search. Right now, she had to find out if the statue was here.
She slowly walked farther into the chamber. Three times or more as large as the cavern where Mac had disappeared, it could easily accommodate a small village to witness a religious rite.
Lia switched off her flashlight.
The
floor was bare rock. A large pool had been cut into the center of the rock floor, its perfect circular shape obviously made by man, not developed naturally. A round "island" of rock had been left in the center of the pool and had been carved into a pyramid shape rising thirty feet in the air. Steps on the two sides that she could see led to a small platform at the top, and the silhouette of—
Lia started. For an instant, she thought someone stood motionless on the flat peak looking down at her. Then she realized it was a statue and its back was turned toward her—the statue of Zamar.
The tragedy of the lovers in the vision had put a halt to the overwhelming sexual need raging within, but the sight of the statue stirred the need all over again. Her knees grew weak and she trembled all over. Her clit throbbed in time to her steps as she approached the pool. She felt as if she were almost in a daze she couldn't shake off.
It took only moments to shed her clothing. Nude, she stepped into the shallow depth and walked until the level reached her breasts. The water was cool and clear. She swam a few strokes, then treaded water as she loosened her hair. She rinsed away the sweat and grit of the past few hours. Then she swam to the island, reveling in the feel of the water gliding over her skin and between her legs. She climbed out on the island.
Lia walked all the way around the pyramid and found the other two sides identical to the first two she'd seen. She stopped when she reached the side the statue faced.
She shivered. The swim had left her refreshed but chilled. However, she thought the shiver really came from what she would find at the top of the pyramid.
The steps were hand-hewn and uniform. She placed one foot on the bottom step and climbed.
The statue's head came into view first and her breath caught. It was the most beautiful likeness of a man she had ever seen—high, flat cheekbones, straight nose, tapered jaw, and a sensuous mouth, lips parted as if he were about to speak. His eyelids were half-closed over two green jewels for irises and inlaid obsidian or jet for pupils. Thick waves of hair swept away from his brow to fall carelessly down his back.
Lia's pulse pounded in her ears. She climbed a few more steps in breathless anticipation.
Straining muscles delineated his neck and broad shoulders. His arms were outstretched toward her, bent at elbow and wrist to suggest he was holding a woman close. Broad chest narrowed to trim waist and slim hips and an erect penis.
Lia stopped short and gasped, pressing her thighs together. This was what she wanted, craved, needed like nothing she'd ever needed before. She hurried up the last few steps.
The statue was over six feet tall, every detail in correct proportion, nothing exaggerated, not even the genitalia. The thick penis jutted out and slightly curved upward, ready to be mounted.
The word shook her. Mounted was such a base, primal word. Yet what was sex but the most base and primal act in which two people could engage.
Without thinking, she reached out a finger and ran it along the hard length of his cock.
Lia thought she felt a tremor pass through it, but more likely it was the echo of her own trembling. She licked her lips and ran her fingers over the fine musculature of his flat stomach and chest. She found his nipples, tiny granules of stone that didn't threaten to break off.
She looked up into his jewel-green eyes and wondered what kind of sacrifices he had seen. Were virgins slaughtered before his eyes? Or brutally raped by mortal men who had assumed the persona of the god Zamar?
Lia examined the floor around him, but there were no bloodstains. The actual sacrifice could have taken place elsewhere, perhaps the pool. She turned her attention back to him and eased into the embrace of his arms. His stone flesh was cool against her heated skin.
"You are Zamar," she whispered, her lips close to his as she stood on tiptoe. His erection nudged her belly and she stretched a little farther until the tip of his shaft was wedged in the juncture of her legs.
Her blood pounded in her ears, and she burned where he touched her. She was careful not to put too much weight on his penis, afraid it might snap off. She didn't want to mar this perfect man-statue.
She shifted her weight to spread her legs, noticing the difference in temperature between the cooler stone beneath her feet and where the statue touched her body now. Perhaps her own body heat had warmed the stone.
His cock felt too good against her. She closed her eyes and rubbed back and forth until her hips thrust of their own will. Her hands gripped his shoulders tightly, and she writhed until the tip of his cock was pressed firmly against her clit. She shuddered violently, trying to find release, but couldn't.
"Zamar!" she cried out his name in a breathless rush, as if he were her lover. "I have to, don't I?"
Lia rubbed once more and shuddered again. Her breasts burned in anticipation. She massaged the rigid nipples, which only deepened her need, and wished Zamar's hands were touching her instead. She pretended her hands were his.
While one hand pinched a nipple, the other slipped across her ribcage and over her belly to the mat of curls. She raised her head and looked directly into Zamar's jewel-green eyes. The hand slid against her swollen, wet folds. Fingers caressed her labia lightly in a circular motion until one brushed her clit. Her body arched, aching to be released from this torture. The fingers found her clit again and pressed closer, quickening the motion. It wasn't enough and she quivered with the shock of the thought that had struck her as soon as she saw his hard cock.
Lia removed her hands and placed her body within his embrace, so that his arms surrounded her and his hands braced her back. She stood on tiptoe and raised one leg. She coated her fingers with her juice and spread it over the tip of his cock to make entry easier.
Taking a deep breath, she eased herself over him. Would she freeze as she had always done with live men? Or was this what she had been meant to do all along? She forced herself down, easily, gently, prepared for the panic to seize her and cause her to withdraw.
Nothing happened except a sharp stab of pain when her hymen broke. She hesitated but the pain dissolved. The stone cock was warm inside her, not cool as she expected. It almost felt pliable as she slid farther down, a fraction of an inch at a time, careful to angle her body just right. She was eager to do this, but not at the risk of damaging herself.
She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders and pushed down, down until he filled her up and her clit was pressed firmly against the angle where his penis joined below his belly. A sigh escaped her lips at the satisfactory fullness of his cock.
She thought there would be more pain, the rock chafing her vagina, but she felt nothing except pleasure. It felt as if he pulsed within her, almost thrusting with her as she began to undulate her hips. My imagination, she thought, closing her eyes and pressing her breasts to his, nipple to nipple. Warmth and pleasure surged through her.
She lifted one leg then the other, placing them around his narrow hips, her heels digging into his buttocks. Strong hands gripped her under her arms and helped her increase the rhythmic momentum.
Suddenly, she was aware of heavy breathing in her ear and warm lips on her neck. Powerful thrusts from beneath carried her closer and closer to the edge. She managed to think one clear thought before tumbling over: I'm dreaming!
She ground herself against warm flesh, arching her back as the most powerful orgasm she'd ever felt struck, ricocheting through every limb and nerve. She shuddered and shivered and screamed out his name, "Zamar!"
He groaned, a ragged sound deep in his throat, and he strained into her, his thrusts deeper and longer. He stiffened and moaned and shook as a hotness burned inside her vagina with his release.
What a wonderful fantasy, Lia thought, brought on by the visions she had experienced. Perhaps another vision, one that seemed more real than the others.
Slowly, she became aware of her hands clenched in thick, silky hair and arms moving around her to hold her up since the shriveling shaft no longer gave support.
Lia jerked back and looked into
jewel-green eyes that looked back at her.
"My One," he said, his voice husky and rich.
He was even more handsome than before as his eyes searched her face and his full lips curved into a smile. His skin, now the color of bronze, glistened with sweat.
Lia gasped. "It's—It's not possible! You can't be alive!"
He laughed and the sound rumbled in his chest. "I am Zamar. You called my name and sacrificed yourself to me. Of course, I am alive. And you are my One."
"Nooooo," Lia moaned. "You're only a legend, and—"
"Legend? I?" He laughed again, and started down the ancient hewn steps. His arms tightened around her, holding her securely.
When he reached the bottom of the steps, he walked into the water until it lapped at his waist. Carefully, he laid her back until she was submerged to her neck, her body floating before him. One arm still supported her. The refreshing water eased the soreness between her thighs.
"I—I'm not your One," Lia said softly, wishing she were his One so she could be loved like the woman in her visions.
He only smiled at her. Cupping his hand and filling it with water, he let the cool liquid trickle over her flushed face.
"Where are the witnesses?"
"Witnesses?"
"Always, the entire village has borne witness to the sacrifice," he explained. "Even if the village is at war, the women and the priests should be in attendance."
Lia ran a hand over his ribs and chest. Touching him and being held by him was as natural as breathing…after she'd gotten over the initial shock of finding herself impaled on a live man instead of a stone statue.
"I'm sorry, Zamar. I don't know how to explain. Your people are long gone and all that remains are a few passages in an old book. And a scroll."
