The Sorceress of Belmair

by Bertrice Small

  A plump, short man stepped forward. “I am, Your Majesty. My name is Britto.” He bowed politely. “How may I serve Your Majesty?”

  “Is there a smaller chamber where the queen and I may eat when we are alone?” Dillon asked the steward.

  Britto’s brow furrowed in thought. Say no. The steward heard Cinnia’s voice in his head, for a quick look in her direction told him she had not spoken aloud. Say no! came the command again. “Your Majesty, I regret we have no other accommodation for your meals,” Britto said apologetically.

  “You are certain, Britto?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty, I am certain,” the stewart said nervously.

  “Then there is nothing else for it but that I make the Great Hall smaller when it is just the two of us,” Dillon replied calmly. “Hall, small,” he said. And suddenly the chamber walls seemed to move in, and the length of the room shrank by three-quarters.

  Britto’s eyes grew wide with his surprise, and the waiting servants murmured anxiously as they suddenly found themselves in a considerably smaller space.

  “What have you done?” Cinnia demanded to know.

  “It’s a simple charm,” Dillon told her. “When we leave the hall it will return to its original size. But if it is just the two of us, or we have fewer than ten guests, the hall will retain a lesser proportion. Your precious tradition is preserved, Cinnia.” He looked down at the steward, who still stood before the high board. “And in future, Britto, you will accept my orders over those of the queen. Do you understand?” Dillon picked up his wine cup and drank deeply.

  Britto swallowed hard. “I heard her, Your Majesty. Plain as day, I did, but she never opened her mouth,” the steward said, looking distressed.

  Dillon laughed. “I’m surprised all of Belmair didn’t hear her she was shouting at you so loud, Britto. Your mistress is a prankster, are you not, my queen?” He caught Cinnia’s hand up, and kissed it. “She will not do it again, however, will you, my pet? It really is not kind to frighten our good servants.”

  “I am sorry I startled you, Britto,” Cinnia said, extricating her hand from her husband’s. She glared at Dillon. “How did you know?” she murmured at him as the servants now returned to their duties and began clearing the high board of the dishes.

  “Speaking silently comes naturally to me,” he told her. “That is one of the ways my mother first knew of my talents. Certainly you didn’t think I wouldn’t hear you?”

  “Why did the dragon pick you?” Cinnia responded with her own question.

  “Because she needs a sorcerer with true strength, and I am he,” Dillon replied. “You simply do not have the skills to overcome whatever magic is at work in Belmair. I do. But I will need your help. The dragon would not have taught you magic if you could not be of help to me. You must stop being angry at me, Cinnia, because I am king. You could not rule by those traditions that you seem to hold so dear. And you will never lose your fear of taking pleasures with me until you stop being afraid of losing yourself to our passion, for there is great passion between us. You are my wife. I want no other woman.”

  “How can you say that and mean it?” Cinnia said. “Until several days ago I knew nothing of you. But within moments of our meeting we were wed. And after that we were joined, to legitimize your selection by the dragon as this world’s king. You know nothing of me.” Was he, she wondered, the one she had sometimes felt watching her? A feeling had come upon her at times in the last few years that she was being spied upon. Nay, it could not be Dillon spying. The feeling was not the same and he had not been aware of her existence in years past.

  “But I do know you,” Dillon continued. “You are beautiful, which is obvious to all who look upon you. You are intelligent, and perhaps a bit too proud. You are kind, for I saw how gently you spoke with your father in the hour before his death. You have manners. And you have magic about you, for ’twas not only I who created that spectacular effect that was the result of our joining, Cinnia.”

  “It didn’t happen before we ate,” Cinnia answered him. “And of course I am proud. I was born royal.”

  “It didn’t happen earlier because we were angry with one another. We were not making love. We were making war,” Dillon told her. “When I make love to you, my queen, you will experience passion again as you did at the joining. As for pride I recognize it easily. My grandmother has the same prideful bearing that you do. She was born a queen, and she never lets you forget it. Now, the table is cleared. I believe that we have some unfinished business.” He stood, drawing her up with him. “Come!”

  “I don’t know you,” Cinnia said as he led her out of the hall and upstairs to their apartments where their servants were awaiting them.

  “What would you like to know?” he asked her. “You can see that I am handsome,” he teased her.

  “And vain!” she shot back. “You told me you are twenty-two to my seventeen. You have siblings. How many? Are they brothers or sisters? I’ll tell you what I do know. You seem kind. And your brow gets wrinkly when you concentrate on something. And I know that your magic is far greater than mine. But you could teach me.”

  “I have three sisters and a brother,” he told her. “Anoush is the oldest. She is your age. Zagiri is thirteen. The twins—Taj is the boy, and his sister Marzina—are nine. My little brother is my stepfather’s heir. On Hetar it is believed I am the son of the martyred Fiacre clan chief Vartan. Anoush is his daughter. As for teaching you my magic, Cinnia, eventually I will share some of my knowledge with you, but right now you are not mature enough, and your temper is much to quick to be entrusted with too much power.” His hand touched the door to their apartments, and it sprang open for him. “We will bathe first,” he said to her. “Together.” Ferrex and Cinnia’s serving woman, Anke, hurried forward. “Prepare the bath,” Dillon said. “Anke, take your mistress, and when she has disrobed bring her to the bath chamber.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Anke said. Like Ferrex she was neither old nor young. She was of medium height with a sweet face, slightly plump with pretty brown eyes and brown hair she wore in two thick braids woven about her head.

  “Do not dally, Anke,” the young king said.

  “No, Your Majesty, I won’t,” Anke answered, and she led her mistress away.

  “He wants us to bathe together,” Cinnia said to her servant. “Is that not shocking, Anke? I shall not do it. Lock the bedchamber door.”

  “Nay, mistress, I will not argue with my master in a matter so insignificant,” Anke told Cinnia. “Lovers like to bathe together, and it is time you became lovers. He is the king, and he is your husband. That is not likely to change. This is a good way for you to become better acquainted with one another. You have not lain with him since the joining. You will cause gossip if you continue to behave like a skittish doe with her first buck.”

  “In the hall before the meal…” Cinnia began.

  “He took you for a little joggity-jog,” Anke said. “I know.”

  “You know?” The girl’s cheeks grew red.

  “As soon as the servant entering the hall saw, she withdrew and warned the others not to disturb you,” Anke said in matter-of-fact tones. “She heard your cries as he was spanking you, and hurried to aid you, but saw you needed nothing, and did not require any rescue,” Anke finished. “He’s a fine man, mistress, and should give you great pleasures if you will let him.” She quickly drew off Cinnia’s silk gown and chemise. Then sitting her mistress down, she brushed her long black ha
ir out and pinned it up. “Come along now,” she said, leading Cinnia brisky from her chamber to the bath chamber.

  “I’ll leave you a night garment on the chair by the fire so it may warm. You may want it later, mistress. Ah, here we are!” Anke flung open the door to the bath chamber. Warm, moist steam billowed out into the small corridor. “I bid you good-night, mistress!”

  Gently the serving woman pushed Cinnia through into the room and shut the door behind her quietly.

  Cinnia stood silently for a long moment. The door behind her opened again, and turning she saw Dillon step through. Oh my! Cinnia thought as she looked at him naked. The joining had been such a tumultuous affair she really had not gotten a good look at him. She saw now that he had a big body, but it was proportioned properly.

  Broad chest. Narrow hips. Long, shapely legs. He turned briefly to shut the door behind him. His buttocks were lovely. Nicely rounded, firm, and she had the most incredible urge to fondle them with her hands. Cinnia’s cheeks grew warm with her lascivious thoughts; and when he turned back to her he grinned. Her cheeks grew hotter. Could he know what she had been thinking? It was untenable! “Stop that!” she commanded him. “It is not polite to intrude upon others’ thoughts, my lord.”

  He walked across the room and, reaching her, smiled down into her eyes. “I want to hear you call me by name, Cinnia.”

  “You are the most arrogant man I have ever met, Dillon,” she answered.

  He grinned again. “I probably am,” he agreed. “The result of my exalted pedigree, my queen. Now, let us bathe each other.”

  The bathing chamber consisted of several small rooms. In the first, two indentations in the shape of shells had been imprinted into the marble floor. A gold spigot, fashioned like an openmouthed fish, sprang from the wall bordering each of these recesses in the floor. Faintly scented lukewarm water poured from them. Next to each shell was a small table upon which rested a large sea sponge and a round, flat dish of thickened soft soap bearing the same fragrance as the water.

  She found herself quickly over her shyness regarding their nudity. She stole a quick look at his maleness. She was hardly familiar with the masculine body, but she doubted his manhood would be called insufficient by any standards. And if she was to admit it to herself he had indeed given her pleasure in the joining. It was that that most disturbed her. They were barely acquainted and she had enjoyed it. What did that say about her? Belmairans did not have the easy morals of Hetarians. Cinnia stepped into the shell.

  “Now it is your brow that furrows,” Dillon said to her, and he directed the spigot head to wet her body.

  “Are you invading my thoughts?” she said sharply.

  “You asked me not to, and so I am not,” Dillon answered her. “I would know what troubles you, Cinnia. Can you put it into easy words, or would you prefer I seek those words for myself, my queen?” He dipped the sponge into the soap, and began to lather it over her shoulders and back.

  She was silent a long minute, and then she said, “I liked what happened between us in the joining, Dillon. But what kind of a woman does that make me?”

  “A passionate one, for which I am delighted,” he told her quietly.

  “I reacted like an easy Hetarian woman. They were always different that way than we were. Swift to indulge their senses without a care for anyone or anything else,” Cinnia told him unhappily. “I didn’t know you, and yet I enjoyed the passions we shared in the joining. Nay, I reveled in it.”

  “How many brides know the men with whom they are matched?” Dillon asked her. “It is rare in my world that women wed men they know well and love. Women in my world marry for many reasons, but love is rarely among them. Respect and love come afterward. Is it any different here in Belmair? And if a bridegroom is skilled and gentle, should his bride not gain pleasures with him? Why should her wedding night be one of fear and loathing, Cinnia? Why should she not have her passions stoked and brought to sweet fulfillment? Who would ever tell you such a terrible thing?” He swirled the sponge over her adorable buttocks, and squatted down to wash her thighs and shapely legs. Then he stood again and helped her to rinse the soap from her body.

  When Cinnia turned to face him her pretty cheeks were pink. But Dillon tipped her small oval face up to his and tenderly kissed her lips. “No one told me anything,” she managed to whisper against his mouth. “Oh, I knew the basics of what must be between a man and a woman. Nidhug was emphatic that I learn such things. But we Belmairans are an old and honored race. Passion such as you engendered in me is unknown to us, Dillon.”

  “Nay, it isn’t,” he told her. “It simply isn’t considered good manners in Belmair to discuss it, my queen. Enjoy it, aye! But discuss it? Nay! Would you like to do my back now?” Handing her the sponge he turned his back to her.

  Taking the sponge from him, Cinnia rinsed it, and then dipping it into the soap she began to wash his broad back and shoulders. He was tall, and so it became necessary for her to stand upon her tiptoes. She laved the sponge across and down his body, and when she had finished she rinsed him as he had her, and Dillon turned about to face her.

  Chapter 4

  “WHY ARE WE doing this?” Cinnia asked him.

  “Because it helps us to know and trust each other better,” Dillon said.

  “You Hetarians are so carnal,” she replied, giving him a wry smile.

  He took the soapy sponge from her. “And you have been wed to the most sensual of their races, my queen.” He drew her into his embrace with his free hand, and bending his head, found her mouth. The kiss he shared with her was long, and grew more passionate with each moment that passed. Her lips were petal soft beneath his, and she did not resist. Rather, he sensed her shy attempt to share his desire. Finally Dillon released her. His bright blue eyes stared down into her face. “I think,” he said slowly as if carefully choosing his words, “that with time I can make you as naughty as a faerie.” Enjoying the blush that suffused her pale cheeks, he handed her a second sponge. “Now let us wash each other,” he suggested.

  She mimicked his motions. His sponge swept down her slender throat. Hers followed down his. He laved across her chest, and then began to bathe each of her breasts, tenderly lifting each small globe as he did. Her nipples puckered, and unable to help himself Dillon bent his head and suckled on one. Cinnia whimpered faintly, trying to concentrate on the broad plain of his chest with her own sponge. He made circles as he moved down her torso and over her belly. Then he knelt and began washing her mons, pushing the sponge between her nether lips, rubbing up and down her well-furred slit. When he had finished he washed both of her legs, lifting them up to bathe her small feet. When he had finished he rinsed her off, saying, “Now it is your turn, Cinnia.” And he forced her to her knees before him.

  Gathering up all of her courage Cinnia looked the enemy in the eye. She sudsed the thick mat of fur surrounding his manhood. She lifted the beast up, and ran the sponge back and forth along its length. It stirred, and she dropped it nervously, moving quickly to his long muscled legs and his large feet. When she had finished she moved to stand, but Dillon’s hands held her down.

  “Stay there,” he said and turning he rinsed himself off. When he had finished he pivoted back to face her. “Now, my queen, I am going to give you your first lesson in how to pleasure me. Take my manhood into your mouth and suck upon it. Be gentle, and beware of scraping me with your teeth.”

  She had never heard of such a thing, but then if the truth be kno
wn, he had taught her all she now knew of lovemaking. Following his direction, she took him in her hand, and, leaning, forward, her mouth closed over him. The flesh was warm and tasted faintly of the soap she had washed him with. Cinnia felt his hand upon her head as she began to suck upon him. She heard his indrawn hiss of breath and as she did she realized that the softness in her mouth had begun to grow firmer with each tug of her jaws.

  “You can take a bit more,” he said, his voice almost strained as he pushed himself deeper into her mouth. “Use the fingers of your other hand to tickle my sacs.”

  She felt the thickening peg of flesh touching the back of her throat and struggled not to gag. Reaching beneath him, she found his seed sacs, cool and slightly hairy to her touch. She teased them with delicate fingers. As his manhood expanded within her mouth and he groaned low, Cinnia suddenly realized that her simple actions were indeed giving him pleasure. She felt a rush of power as she realized he was as vulnerable to passion as she was. Cinnia sucked harder upon him until her jaws were aching, and she could no longer contain him within her mouth.

  It was at that point that Dillon growled a command to her to stop, and taking her by the hand led her to the bathing pool. Looking at him as they moved from one chamber into the other, Cinnia was astounded by the length and size of him. She had never really looked at him as she was now looking at him. He was magnificent! Together they stepped down into the perfumed water. Turning her about so that she was facing up the steps, he instructed her to kneel forward upon the steps, using her hands to balance herself. Then coming behind her he sheathed himself deeply and fully within her body.

  Cinnia gasped at his entry. His hands fastened themselves about her shapely hips, and he began to pump her, slowly at first with long, majestic strokes of his cock; then with increasing rapidity, with fierce, hard thrusts of his manhood. She whimpered, a sound of desperation, as he moved within her. “Please!” she begged him. “Please!”