Descended

by Evangeline Anderson

  “The Annals of Historical Preservation and Re-enactment present the history of Sundalla the 887th and her Chosen Guard,” a small, tinny voice announced. “Now it came to pass that Sundalla the 887th of the line of the Goddess-Empress lost her chosen Consort and she was sorely grieved,” it continued.

  On the screen, the richly dressed woman buried her face in her hands as though she was crying.

  “But Sundalla the 887th was still in her needing years,” the voice said. “She did not wish to take another Consort but after a time, she cast her eye upon one of her Guards and he was fair in her eyes.”

  A new figure appeared on the screen—a tall, muscular male with the familiar gold-tinged skin. He had blue-black hair like Kristoff and the same changeable eyes too. The woman looked up at him and then reached to touch his cheek. The man took her hand and, very gently, kissed her palm. The looks they were giving each other were practically burning up the little screen they were projected on. Clearly she had the hots for him and just as clearly, he returned her feelings.

  “And so the Council of Wisdom decreed that the Empress might take her Guard to use for her needing and thus the Empress made use of him, though he was not allowed to do more than serve her,” the voice concluded.

  On the lighted screen, the scene suddenly became X-rated. The Empress and her Guard were in bed and he had his hands over his head, gripping the headboard. He was gazing up with adoring lust at the Empress who was naked and sitting astride him. She was rocking her hips in a deep, grinding rhythm and it was clear that she was “using” him very thoroughly indeed. Her full breasts swayed, her nipples tight and pink and her mouth was shaped in to an “O” of pure pleasure.

  “Oh my God!” I breathed, unable to pull my gaze away from the hot scene. How had this scroll gotten here and was it for real? I remembered Kristoff saying something about Sundalla the 887th and her Guard and how she was allowed to touch him sexually even though he couldn’t touch her but somehow I hadn’t pictured it quite so graphically.

  “My Lady? Your bath is ready.”

  Kristoff’s deep voice startled me and I gasped and tried to cover the incriminating scroll with a pillow. Panic made me clumsy and I only succeeded in knocking the damn thing off the couch and across the room. Not only that, the blow somehow turned up the sound effects. I could hear deep, masculine groans and feminine moans and panting along with the slapping sounds of really hot sex coming from the scroll now.

  To my horror, it rolled right up to Kristoff’s feet and stopped there, showing sex that would have done any porn site on the Internet proud.

  “My Lady?” He looked up at me, his eyebrows raised. He had cleaned up some himself and he looked a lot fresher and more relaxed than he had before he disappeared into the bathroom. He had also taken off his breastplate and the metal parts of his uniform, leaving his broad chest bare, though he was still wearing his boots and the short, leather kilt.

  He looks gorgeous, I thought.

  And he looks like the guy on the porn scroll too, whispered a snarky little voice in my head. And you look like the Empress on the scroll. Look at the way she’s riding him!

  “I don’t know where it came from,” I said, nodding at the scroll, feeling my cheeks get hot with a blush. “It was just here on the couch and it popped on and then the voice said it was a historical document and it seemed okay until it suddenly went all porno and—”

  “It’s all right.” He picked up the scroll and stared at it thoughtfully as the hot scene continued. “This is the holo-scroll we Imperial Guards are made to study before we take our vow to the Goddess-Empress.”

  “You…you are?” It was my turn to raise my eyebrows at him. “Do you, uh, expect to have to, um, service your Empress like that?”

  Kristoff shook his head.

  “No, but we are made aware that it is a possibility. We are dedicated to our Royal mistress heart, mind, and body—to use as she sees fit.”

  “Well I want you to know I wouldn’t, uh, use you like that. I mean, unless you wanted me to, I mean,” I said quickly. “I mean—”

  “It’s all right, Charlotte.” He gave him a little half-smile. “Soon you’ll have a Royal Consort and you won’t even think of things like this.” He nodded at the scroll in his hand where the Empress was now performing a position I was pretty sure was called “reverse cowgirl” on her guard, who was loving every minute of it.

  “What if I do, though?” I dared to ask. “What if…what if it was somehow like that…between us, I mean?”

  His eyes went suddenly half-lidded and he looked at me directly.

  “Then it would be my pleasure to be at my Lady’s service,” he murmured.

  I felt my breath catch in my throat and my heart started to pound. The desire inside me, which had been simmering just under the surface, suddenly spiked, making my nipples feel tight and achy. The place between my thighs was hot and swollen and I felt the need move through me like a wave.

  “Kristoff…” I began but he did something to the scroll that shut it off.

  “My Lady, your bath will grow cold,” he said softly. “Will you come with me now and allow me to bathe you?”

  “All right,” I said, my voice coming out shaky. I started to stand but before I got two steps, Kristoff was there, sweeping me into his arms. “You don’t have to carry me,” I protested.

  “But I want to. Besides, there are still shards of glass on the floor—I don’t want you cutting your feet.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. I allowed him to carry me into the bathing room which turned out to be made of deep blue marble shot through with veins of pure gold. There was a big round tub on a pedestal in the center of the room made of the same stone. Over it hung a gorgeous chandelier that seemed to be made of a million tiny golden lights hovering in mid-air. How they stayed together and kept their shape, I didn’t know but they made a soft, musical hum that was incredibly soothing.

  Kristoff carried me over to the steaming tub. There were three steps leading up to it and he placed me on the top one. Then he helped me remove my bra. I blushed and tried to cover my breasts as it came off but he shook his head.

  “No, Charlotte,” he murmured. “Don’t hide yourself from me. Let me examine you and make sure you’re all right.”

  I let my arms fall to my sides and bit my lip as he palmed my breasts, careful not to touch the sensitive nipples, as he examined me for cuts and abrasions.

  There were a few places where the exploding mug had marked me but for the most part, I was okay. Kristoff frowned when he saw one long, shallow cut running from the inner slope of my breast, almost to my nipple.

  “I’ll put some healing salve on that after I’ve bathed you, my Lady,” he murmured, tracing it gently. “There will be no scar—I promise.”

  “O…okay,” I whispered, my tongue feeling clumsy and thick in my mouth. God, having his big hands on my bare breasts like this was driving me crazy. And even though he was being careful to avoid my nipples, I still felt his warmth and wanted more.

  “You have such lovely breasts,” Kristoff murmured as he finally finished his examination. “It would be a shame to let anything scar them.”

  “Th-thank you,” I stuttered, feeling naked all over again.

  And then he was kneeling before me and reaching up to hook his fingers in the sides of my panties. I blushed and held on to his broad shoulders as he brought them slowly down and helped me step out of them.

  “So lovely, my Goddess,” he murmured, still kneeling before me.

  “I’m all dirty and scratched up,” I protested. Not to mention I wasn’t exactly a size two like my supermodel competitor for the throne. But Kristoff didn’t seem to care.

  “You’re beautiful,” he murmured. “And you’ll feel better after I bathe you. Here—let me help you into the tub.”

  Rising, he took my hand and helped me step into the warm, steaming water. I hadn’t noticed before but there were some kind of deep red petals floating just on th
e surface. They perfumed the bath, giving it a sweet, slightly spicy scent that was instantly addictive.

  “Mmm…” I moaned softly, letting myself sink into the tub. God, it felt wonderful. Much better than the weird sonic-shower Kristoff had in his spaceship. I could feel all the tension in my tired muscles leaking away, making me feel limp and peaceful.

  “Feeling better?” Kristoff sounded slightly amused, as though he took pleasure in watching me relax and enjoy myself.

  “Much,” I admitted. “This is wonderful—thank you, Kristoff.”

  “You’re welcome, my Lady. Now let’s see to your hair.”

  Before I could protest, he had picked up a cup and was pouring the scented water over my hair. He was very careful not to get any in my eyes and after a moment I just relaxed and let him do it.

  Next he scooped thick cream from a pink glass jar and rubbed it between his palms.

  “Is that some kind of shampoo?” I asked, as he began to massage it into my hair.

  “It will cleanse your hair and make it shiny and soft,” he murmured, still working it into my wet hair.

  I moaned softly at the delicious feeling of his strong fingertips massaging my scalp and washing my hair. God, he hadn’t been kidding when he’d said he was trained for service as well as for combat—the way he worked the sweet cream into my hair with such firm yet gentle strokes felt amazing.

  Kristoff seemed to realize I was enjoying his ministrations because he took a long, long time to finish washing my hair. At last, though, he rinsed my long, wavy strands until they were squeaky clean. Then he put something that looked like a pair of furry black gloves on his hands.

  “What are those?” I asked, watching as he scooped a different kind of cream out of another jar and started rubbing his black-clad hands together to make a sweet-smelling lather.

  “Bathing implements,” he said blandly. “Would my Lady be so kind as to stand so that I may bathe her?”

  “What? Why do I have to stand up?” I protested, feeling shy all over again.

  “That I may bathe you properly,” he murmured. “Please, my Lady.”

  “Well…all right.”

  Reluctantly, I stood up, dripping and covered all over with the scarlet petals. When I rose out of the water, Kristoff sucked in his breath, making me think something was wrong.

  “What? What is it?” I looked down at myself anxiously.

  “Nothing, my Goddess. You’re just so beautiful.” Kristoff’s deep voice was slightly hoarse and the way he was looking at me, so intensely, made me blush.

  “Thank you,” I whispered, fighting the urge to try to cover myself. But though I still felt nervous to be naked in front of him, I also liked the feeling of his gaze on me—of those hungry eyes roaming over my body. It made me feel hot and desirable and beautiful, just as Kristoff had said.

  “My Lady,” he murmured. “May I wash you?”

  “I’m all yours,” I said, my breath coming out in a little gasp.

  “If only you were,” Kristoff murmured under his breath, so softly I almost didn’t hear it.

  “What?” I asked but he was already washing me.

  He started at my shoulders and the nape of my neck and worked his way down my arms in long, clean strokes. He did the same for my front, palming my full breasts as he had before to wash them with gentle, circular strokes. This time, I noticed, he didn’t avoid my nipples. Was it because he was wearing gloves? Or because the act of bathing me counted as “service” instead of sexual?

  “Why are you allowed to touch me there now? To touch my, uh, nipples when you didn’t before?” I heard myself asking. “Is it because you’re serving me? By bathing me, I mean?”

  “Naturally.” Kristoff looked up at me. “Would you prefer I didn’t touch you there?”

  “No,” I whispered. “I’d prefer if you did it more.”

  I didn’t know where I got the boldness to say such a thing but I couldn’t help it—the desire was growing in me and I wanted his hands on my body too badly to lie about it.

  “My Lady,” he murmured, plucking gently at my tight nipples with his long fingers. “I would not take advantage of you under the guise of service but since you asked for a deeper cleansing…”

  “Ah—Kristoff! Yes, please!” I gasped, thrusting out my breasts for him to give him easier access. His gentle torture was sending sparks of pleasure straight down to my pussy, which felt swollen and hot.

  He looked at me, his eyes hot and half-lidded.

  “Does my Lady wish me to wash her lower?” he asked in that soft, deep voice of his.

  “I…yes, I do.” I whispered, biting my lip. “Please, Kristoff.”

  Without a word he began stroking his big warm hands down my sides and hips to reach my thighs.

  I thought he would reach between my legs right away but he didn’t. Instead he took his time, washing my back and legs and pelvis and belly gently, firmly, and extremely thoroughly until I thought I was going to explode.

  “Kristoff…” I said, hearing the need in my voice.

  “Yes, my Lady?” he murmured innocently.

  “Please, I need…” I didn’t know how to say it but he understood.

  “I know what you need, Charlotte,” he said, looking me in the eyes. And then finally—finally—he got to my pussy.

  I moaned softly as one gloved hand reached between my legs to cup my sex. I was still standing up in the tub, the water up to my thighs and Kristoff was kneeling on the steps in front of me.

  “Spread your legs for me,” he murmured, looking up at me. “Let me bathe you.”

  “All…all right.” I opened my thighs, feeling shaky and weak with desire. In fact, I was so shaky I had to lean forward and brace myself on one of Kristoff’s broad shoulders.

  “That’s right, my Lady.” He looked at me, his eyes filled with the same desire I felt myself. “Hold on to me if you need to.”

  His big hand in its soft, silky glove rubbed gently across my outer pussy lips. A moan caught in my throat as he washed me there and yet, after a moment a new moan rose—this one of frustration. Because though he was rubbing gently against my swollen outer mound, his long fingers still hadn’t entered me to caress my heated inner folds, where I needed him most.

  “Kristoff…” I begged. “Please, I need…I want…”

  “As I said, my Lady, I would not presume to take advantage under the guise of service.”

  “But…but I need more.” I heard the desperate, needy note in my own voice but I couldn’t stop it somehow.

  “I can only wash what is presented to me,” he murmured, giving me a meaningful look. “Now if I was to be presented with more…”

  I understood what he meant. Feeling shy and on fire with need at the same time, I straightened up and shook back my damp hair. Then I reached down and spread myself open for him, baring my throbbing clit as I had when he’d been teaching me to touch myself. Only this time I didn’t want to do that—it was Kristoff’s touch I yearned for—his touch alone I was burning up for.

  “Ah, my Lady,” he murmured hoarsely, his eyes on my aching clit, now proudly on display. “Your Goddess-pearl is so hungry—so swollen with need.”

  “It needs to be washed,” I whispered, looking him in the eyes. “Please, Kristoff, wash me—serve me as I need you to.”

  “With pleasure, my Lady,” he murmured.

  And then his big hand found my sex once more, his long fingers in the silky black glove just cupping me at first but then dipping delicately into my wet folds to caress around and around my throbbing clit—though he still didn’t touch it directly.

  “Please,” I moaned, feeling half crazy with desire. “Please, Kristoff—I can’t stand much more!”

  It was true—I felt like my legs were made of spaghetti and I was going to fall over at any moment. I had to grip one of his broad shoulders again to stay upright.

  “As my Lady wishes,” he murmured and then, at last, the tip of one long finger found the swoll
en bud in the center of my folds and began to slide gently over it. From side to side he slid, back and forth over my aching clit—the gentlest motion imaginable and yet it filled me with pleasure so intense my knees almost buckled.

  I gave a low cry and the hand I had braced on his broad shoulder fisted tight. Sparks of sensation leapt through me, igniting my body like a single spark from a campfire can ignite a whole forest. As Kristoff’s fingertip continued its slow, teasing slide across my throbbing clit, I threw back my head, my hair hanging long and damp down my back and moaned without shame.

  “Oh, Kristoff!”

  “Gods, Charlotte…” Kristoff’s deep voice was ragged and I looked down to see that he was watching me, a hungry expression in his eyes. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he growled softly. “And so close to coming… are you not?”

  “Yes,” I whispered. "God, yes.”

  “Then come for me, my Goddess,” he rumbled, his eyes filled with lust I felt echoed in my own body. “Come as I serve you.”

  “Ahh!” I gasped, my body obeying his command without question. “Oh, Kristoff—yes!”

  After so much build up the orgasm was intense. I felt my body responding helplessly to his deep, commanding voice and the gentle but firm way he was caressing my clit. Not just responding, but going super-nova. My toes curled, my belly trembled, and my back arched. I had to grip his shoulders with both hands this time, to keep from falling.

  Inside I could feel my inner muscles clenching and even in the midst of my pleasure I felt incredibly empty inside. I wanted something more—I needed to be filled. That emptiness and need hadn’t become a burning, out of control force inside me—not yet. But I sensed that it would, some time in the future.

  For Kristoff’s part, he stayed with me, watching me hungrily as I came on his gloved hand, giving it up for him and calling his name as I pumped my hips shamelessly, trying to make the incredible sensation last. If my first orgasm at my own hands had been good, this one was infinitely better. Maybe because it was Kristoff touching me—Kristoff giving me the pleasure so intense I thought it would never end.