The Topaz Embrace

by The Topaz Embrace (lit)

  Sarri ground her mound against his cock, which only a few hours ago, he’d buried inside a lovely senator’s daughter. He never turned down an easy fuck, though. His shaft expanded, in spite of his ambivalence. A clever assistant, she suited his plans to perfection, and her fondness for rough congress freed him from the pretence of civility. Of greatest importance, the blood of the Topaz Oracles flowed through her, the result of a long-ago, illicit union between an Oracle and her lover.

  “It’s been so long, and I’ve ached for your possession.” Her voice grew husky as she pulled the straps of her gown down, one by one to reveal smooth, white curves. Too smooth. Too flawless. He could remedy that. Blood flowed to his phallus with renewed vigor. Perhaps he’d not yet tired of her.

  “Ah, my heart.” His lips curled in a cruel smile. He knew what she needed from him, knew how to meet her twisted needs, and his own. “You shall have it. Afterwards, you will give me every detail of these new events.” He broke off a flexible, young branch from the tree next to him as he approached. “Bend over. You should have told me the news of the Oracle immediately. You’ve forced me to discipline you.” He gestured to indicate the round, waist-high boulder behind her.

  “Yes, Timon. Forgive me.” She complied, the faintest vibrato of fear blending with the husky rasp of anticipation in her voice. She hiked up her robe to expose the luscious curves of her bottom and bent forward to present her body as the canvas for his artistry.

  “You must remain silent as you accept your punishment. We can’t afford to be caught in such a compromising situation, my dear.” He drew back his hand, and swiftly swung it forward, bringing the makeshift whip into hard contact with her tender flesh. “You’ll not disobey me again. Will you, my pet?”

  “No…” The low gasp tore from her as she struggled to remain quiet.

  “Excellent. Silence now.” He smiled in satisfaction, watching in the dim lantern light as the wheal rose where he’d struck her. He whipped her again and again, until stripes criss-crossed her backside. Lovely. The familiar sense of power and peace rushed through him, coalescing in his cock, and begging for expression. He tossed the makeshift whip to the side and reached between her legs. The rumble of his suppressed laughter at what he discovered shook his body, making his eager shaft bob up and down. Drenched, ready, and eager to please, Sarri never disappointed. He kneed her legs apart and rammed into her with little care for her comfort. Not that it mattered. She’d enjoy whatever he did, no matter how rough. In many ways, Sarri served as an exceptional mistress. He shoved her forward on the rock and continued to pummel into her. He smiled at her soft gasp as her breasts scraped on the rough stone, but she made no protest. Perhaps he’d even permit her to come this time.

  * * * *

  Timon stole into the Oracle apartments in the hour before the sun would appear, taking care not to be seen by the staff. He wished to investigate the situation before they discovered his presence. He crept through the silent living space to peer around the corner through the open door to the lamp lit bedchamber. The rich scent of sex hung heavy in the air, twining through his senses along with the light gardenia fragrance from the petals strewn about the floor and the large bed. A bed upon which the naked Oracle reclined in deep slumber, surrounded by Danar, her Personal Guard, on one side, and the nomad trader, Tallon, on the other. The very trader, the embittered, vengeance-hungry trader Timon had sent to seek his revenge upon the Oracle. Not only had he not done so, Tallon cupped the Oracle’s breast possessively, and nestled into her backside as they slept. His position spoke more clearly than any words could. He’d fallen under her spell. Any hope their Triad had not been consummated died a summary death. Knowing the canny Danar, he’d most likely ensured witnesses to the union.

  The faithless little witch of an Oracle. Sarri spoke the truth. Rage and frustration seethed through Timon’s gut, searing him with the heat of his thwarted ambition and desire. She should have been his.

  No. That wasn’t right. The time for that passed long ago.

  She should be gone. The trader should have done as Timon expected. The man had been full of hatred and thirsted for vengeance. Timon recognized the signs, for he experienced them himself. The trader had been a mighty lion tricked into doing Timon’s bidding. Now, he mewled like a clawless kitten, chained to the Oracle’s bed, a bed Timon, himself, should be occupying right now.

  A clammy sweat broke out on Timon’s brow. His hands shook as they never had before. A buzzing sounded in his ears, and almost without conscious thought, he reached for the knife in the scabbard at his waist with only one thought in his mind, to remove those who impeded his goals. He longed for retribution from the Oracle. She’d humiliated him as no other had. The two males, mere ciphers, would still prove obstructive now she that held them both in thrall. He’d experienced that himself, once. He advanced upon the bed, imagining how it would feel to slit that smooth golden throat he’d kissed so long ago.

  He’d barely taken a step when a rattling at the outer chamber doors startled him. He froze in place, holding his breath, heart pounding, fresh perspiration dotting his brow as the big guard muttered in his sleep and turned over. His ever-present frustrated rage gripped him for a moment, blinding him to anything other than his lost opportunity to solve his problem. Self-preservation took over, and he frantically eyed the apartment for the best escape route.

  The side door led into the Oracle’s lush personal garden. Timon slipped out just as the morning servants entered the main chamber doors with trays of food for the trio to break their nightly fast. As he ran through the stunning gardens in the early dawn light, too preoccupied to notice the garden’s mature magnificence, he formulated strategy in his head.

  The consummation of the Oracle’s new triad blocked Timon’s path to controlling the gifts of the Oracles, and thus to his ultimate goal to rule the Federation. He could never assume the role of Consort with Ankhet now, but this possibility might still exist with Sarri installed as Oracle. Should Ankhet die without issue, Sarri remained the sole heir to the Topaz bloodline. Only one solution presented itself, of course. He’d have to kill the Oracle and her Consorts, and anyone who got in his way. He’d worked too hard and sacrificed far too many years to see his quest for the power of the Topaz Oracle Office slip through his fingers like so much dust from the road through the Poor Sector of Sydney where he spent his boyhood. The Topaz Oracle Office represented his key to the Oracle Standard itself.

  Controlling, perhaps destroying the Standard would not only preserve his own power, it would save the Federation and secure its dominion. His future lay with the Federation, and this would assure his ascendance to the top of its ranks. He circled around and entered the silent Acolyte compound by the rear door. As he crossed the hall to his sumptuous Chief Acolyte apartments, he smiled with grim satisfaction. By next summer, he’d have Sarri established as the new Topaz Oracle, himself as her Consort, and be well on his way to imploding the Oracle Standard.

  A good plan carried out with precision should solve this little problem. Not one of his three intended victims matched his intellect and cunning, but the other acolytes would return soon, so he hadn’t much time to spare. Sarri, of course, would assist him, but the rest of the staff remained completely loyal to the Oracle. Now, she also had not one, but two ardent and formidable protectors, who, judging by the scene he witnessed in her bedchamber, planned to stay close by her side.

  With the combination of the men's fighting skills and the Oracle’s powers, he’d have to find a way to separate them to have any hope of prevailing. Together, the three comprised too difficult a target even for him. Stepping through the door to his rooms, he pushed the door closed behind him and stripped his tunic off over his head. A nice soak in the tub in his private bathing chamber prior to a brief rest should afford an opportunity to devise a workable strategy. .

  As he slid into the warm water filling the marble tub, he reflected that Sarri indeed had her uses. He could hardly have ordered any of the
household staff to draw his bath, as he did not want the compound to know of his return. He laid his head back against the curved edge of the cool stone, stretching his legs out in the relaxing water. Recalling their earlier activities by the cove, his cock twitched in remembrance and he laughed. Yes, Sarri remained a most accommodating wench. She also possessed the bloodline that would bring all his plans to fruition. Illegitimate in the eyes of the Oracle Standard, he’d still manage to use her heritage to his advantage. His laugh rang out in the empty room. He could manage anything.

  He’d approach the trader first and twist the knife a bit about his slain family. Just in case the man had forgotten them in the delights he found between the Oracle’s honeyed thighs.

  Chapter 8

  Tallon slicked back his wet hair as he waded to shore after his swim in the Oracle’s cove. Not that he needed the exercise these days. He smiled to himself recalling the exquisitely pleasurable exertions that had occupied his days and nights of late. Their time together moved beyond a sublime physical experience, to a deep emotional enlightenment. Ankhet might be Topaz Oracle to the world, but to him, she represented his center and his home. In this unconventional place, with these two unconventional people who’d begun as his sworn enemies, he’d found a sense of comfort and belonging he’d never thought possible. They accepted him and seemed to appreciate him just for himself. He knew they’d stand with him in times of trouble and he, with them. Is this what happiness feels like? Is this true love?

  “Trader. Have you completed your mission?”

  Tallon whirled at the nasal voice piercing his daydream. His mouth dropped open in surprise, and ugly reality returned with a gut-churning rush. “Ambassador Timon, what are you doing here?” He eyed the man’s white pleated garment and gold armlet in puzzlement. How odd for this influential Federation Ambassador from Sydney to turn up on this remote island in the humble garments of a priest.

  “Perhaps a more suitable question would be why are you enjoying a leisurely afternoon swim on the island of your enemy when you’ve yet, after all this time, to carry out your sworn mission?” The ambassador eyed him up and down, nostrils flaring in apparent distaste at Tallon’s wet, naked state.

  So, he’d followed to make sure Tallon carried out his will? Did he think Tallon a puppet to dance upon his strings? Every instinct he possessed clamored in alert. Tallon drew himself to his full height, considerably more than that of the official facing him. “I didn’t realize you’d engaged me upon a ‘sworn mission’, Ambassador.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed. “Did you think the Federation randomly passes out sailing ships, currency, and the location of secret, secured installations such as Oracle compounds? You approached us, if you recall, Tallon Sinclair. You wanted your chance at justice for your family.” He turned his head and gazed at him with heavy-lidded beady eyes, looking as reptilian as he behaved. “You do recall your late family, don’t you, Sinclair?”

  Tallon gasped, as emotional agony flooded him and some of the rage he’d lost as he discovered his new love, gripped him once more. He fought the irrational need to blame and find some reason for his loss in order to survive the pain. There had to be a reason, did there not? And if he could find that reason, assign blame in the proper quarter, that would help him cope, would it not? Vengeance. He’d wanted revenge upon the person responsible for his loss, and for the loss of all the other families who’s loved ones died in Sydney that terrible day.

  “Trader,” the arrogant Fed in temple garb twisted his verbal knife, “have you forgotten the terrible deaths of you mother, father, and sister, simply because the one who set that day in motion is uncommonly fair of face and form?” He eyed Tallon up and down. “And, no doubt, vastly talented in the bed chamber?”

  “I don’t believe the Topaz Oracle is responsible for the massacre. I’ve gotten to know her and understand her character. She could never, would never, do such a monstrous thing.”

  The cold chuckle of his tormenter sounded on the still beach, nearly blending with the crash of the gentle surf and the sound of the raucous sea birds. “We have images of your alluring Oracle meeting with those who deliberately instigated the riots in a part of Sydney no Oracle would otherwise frequent. We have copies of an order for Federation troops to attack those marching on the capitol.” He smirked. “I don’t think I need to tell you whose signature is on that order.” He paused, hands behind his back, as he circled Tallon. “It’s well-known your Oracle visited the capitol that day. She watched her handiwork, Tallon. She watched as your family perished for a whim.”

  Unreasoning rage seethed through Tallon. His chest seemed too tight to breathe. His heart squeezed and his head pounded. It can’t be true. She’d never do such a thing. And for what purpose? He twisted to face the man. “Why would an Oracle do such a thing, Ambassador? What could her motivation have been to do something so calculated and extreme? Especially something that violates every tenet of the Oracle Standard? Even if I could believe she’d be a party to such a thing, I cannot conceive of any reason she would.”

  “Poor Tallon. The Oracle Standard is a dying behemoth. The Federation is quickly usurping the vast wealth and influence the Oracle Standard once wielded. You know the bloodlines are dying out now. You’ve already been put to use toward that end, I hear.”

  Tallon tracked the official as he circled, assessing Tallon’s person. His skin crawled as it had every time he’d been in the Ambassador’s presence, as a maniacal darkness emanated from the strange official. He sent a chill even through Tallon’s city-hardened sensibilities.

  Timon brought his leering gaze back up to meet Tallon’s eyes. “In fact, possible extinction loomed for the Standard at the time of these events if you recall. Citizens from all stations screamed for power to revert to the Federation. They sought relief from the famine and misfortune they’d discovered under Oracle reign. Who calmed the masses after the tragedy? The Oracle Standard, of course. Those events gave the Standard a renewed image of leadership, a new lease on their precarious role within our society. And who spoke for the Standard? Which Oracle received worldwide acclaim for her calming actions? Think about it, trader.”

  He regretted ever becoming embroiled with this evil man, but still—Tallon’s gut churned with remembered grief, rage and doubt. Ankhet could not have done this terrible thing. The Ambassador’s words wormed their slimy way into his thoughts and wrought a path of conflict and suspicion. “She had nothing to gain by weaving such a plot.”

  “She had everything to gain. Namely, retaining her station and the riches of the Oracle Office. More than that, she craved the attention. She may seem sweet and selfless, but I’ve known the woman for many years, and she’s a self-serving tyrant.” Timon’s allegations tore a path of anguish through Tallon's heart and mind. Timon could not be trusted. That much he knew, yet his words bore an alarming plausibility. He needed time to think, to sort out too many painful thoughts, and he needed some time to reflect and regain his balance.

  Ignoring the other man on the beach, and his self-satisfied smile, Tallon grabbed his kilt up off the very couch where he and Danar had loved the Oracle with such abandon and wrapped it around his hips. A remote beach lay at the far end of the island. He’d go there and think. He had to sort through the thoughts and emotions overwhelming him. He stalked up the sandy shoreline, the retained heat in the volcanic grains burning the soles of his feet, yet he scarcely noticed. His Ankhet could not be the evil being Timon implied. Could she?

  * * * *

  Danar halted in surprise to see the doors to the Sanctuary partially open. Ankhet never left the doors open whether within the shrine or without. She kept the doors shut as a matter of protocol and security. Apart from the mystical powers the gems inside possessed, which could be jeopardized by mishandling, they held vast intrinsic worth. She could not be in the shrine in any case, as he’d left her in a deep sleep in the bed in her private quarters, worn out from their latest encounter. Alarm lifted the hair at his nape
and he rested his hand on the sword at his side. He believed the entire staff of the Topaz Oracle Office completely above reproach. There’d never been a breach of security, but as he moved quietly into the chamber he braced for the worst.

  The sight before him surprised him so, he, who’d never hesitated, whether in drills, or with the Armed Legions, gaped in astonishment. “Timon!” Danar eyed the Chief Acolyte of the Topaz Oracle in shock.

  The slight man in white robes stopped in the midst of fondling some of the more choice golden brown gems. He, an Acolyte, forbidden to bear arms, wore a sword at his own side. He smiled—a chilling, hideous imitation of what should have been a pleasant expression and set the gems back in their tray. “Surprised to see me, Danar?” He walked toward Danar, a heretofore unseen confident swagger exaggerating the stride of the trusted adviser to the Oracle. “I decided to return a bit early to…tidy up some things before the others arrived. I’ve always fancied these stones. All these years, I’ve watched them sparkle and glimmer, adorning the lovely Ankhet. I’m considering keeping a few for my private collection. I don’t think the Oracle would mind if I kept a few for myself. Under the circumstances.”

  Danar stared at the other man. He’d gone mad. Only madness could cause this bizarre behavior. Still, he couldn’t permit him to remove, or violate, the Oracle’s gems. Clearly, Timon expected him to play along, and he did wish to know the answer. “And what ‘circumstances’ are you referring to, Timon?”

  “I’ve heard that you and the stranger from off-island have been installed as the Oracle’s Co-Consorts. My felicitations.” He bowed with a flourish, his beady gaze never leaving Danar’s face. “However, I should be filling that role, by right, I’m afraid, and I will soon. The Oracle and I consummated a physical relationship of our own, a number of times during the Oracle Conferences over the years. Did she happen to mention that?” The words accompanied a knowing smirk as his glance took in Danar’s large frame and the plain garb and sandals of a guard. “We used to laugh at your rough ways as you patrolled outside the Oracle’s quarters, while she and I enjoyed carnal knowledge of one another.”