‘You can’t get away with this,’ the baron was calling from outside the tunnel.
But it was too late for him. The sentinel’s heart was beating; his flesh was pulsing around her, enveloping Allura in male desire and male satisfaction. The testosterone filled her lungs. Her every pore was bathed in its sensual powers. She responded in kind, locking her body into a fetal position, out of which she was going to squeeze her own orgasm, in time with his.
‘Yes, yes,’ came the voice of the sentinel, encouraging her, and Allura needed no more prompting. Clutching her breasts and sex she rocked her pelvis, bringing just the right friction to trip her clitoris.
They both went off together, sliding down a precipice, like a mud fall at spring, down into a green valley, unoccupied and pastorally perfect. Allura felt herself spasming as they rolled over and over until finally she was on her back, in a field full of wild flowers representing every color of the rainbow. She was young again, barely eighteen, in a dress of light blue cotton. Porfino was above her, wanting to make love.
‘It will feel so good,’ he encouraged, trying to push up her dress.
‘But this is wrong,’ she said. ‘If we get caught it will be my ruin.’
‘What have I to lose?’ he teased. ‘You’ll only have to marry me and I’ll be king.’
‘Not king,’ she corrected. ‘Only a prince.’
‘Give me your hands,’ said Porfino, and she held them out for tying.
‘Now put them above your head.’
Again she did as he said, putting her bound and crossed wrists in a position of complete surrender.
‘There, now you are my slave.’
Young Allura giggled. ‘Don’t talk like that, Porfino.’
‘Why not, if I want to?’
‘Because it’s naughty, that’s why.’
‘But slavery is natural, for women, at any rate.’ He fondled her golden hair, loose and free. ‘I shall name you Goldie,’ he decided, ‘and you may thank your master for giving you a name.’
Her voice was thick with desire as she said, ‘Thank you, master.’
Never had the real Porfino been so manly and never had anyone so quickly taken her in hand. This was another dream; that explained it.
‘Your name is a gift, slave, I may take it away at will.’
‘Yes, master.’
His fingers ran over her breasts. ‘I own these.’
‘Yes,’ she agreed, ‘master.’
‘And I own this.’ His hand crept under the dress, between her thighs. ‘Spread your legs wider, Goldie, give your master access to his cunt.’
Allura moaned as he dominated her perfectly, and ruthlessly.
‘Come, Goldie, come like a little slut on my hand.’
The dirty, demeaning talk and the pressure on her clit sent her into convulsions. She couldn’t hold it back even if she wanted to.
‘Now lick.’ He held his come-soaked fingers to her mouth when she had ridden the tide of her bliss, and Allura lapped meekly, even her tongue exhausted.
‘Good girl,’ Porfino praised. ‘I think you’ve earned some time with my cock now. What do you think?’
‘Yes please, master,’ she whispered, and Porfino – or whoever he really was – pulled down his loose breeches and mounted her face. She smelled deeply his balls, and then took the gift of his penis, pushed home between her lips.
‘Take it all, Goldie, or it’ll be the strap for your ass.’
Obediently she deep-throated the young man, sucking him determinedly.
‘You’re a natural cocksucker,’ he observed, her head bobbing up and down. ‘You should be made to perform in the public square, taking on every erect cock, naked on your knees. Or how about leaning over in the stocks? Then they could have your mouth and cunt, and your ass, too. Would you like that?’
Allura clenched her fists. She couldn’t move her arms, and yet she needed so badly to cup her hand to her cunt and bring herself relief from the torrential heat of his words.
‘I’m sure you would,’ he answered for the cock-gagged slave. ‘You’re exactly the kind of slut to get off on something so disgusting.’
Porfino’s rhythm grew faster and faster. His eyes were ablaze and she braced herself for his release, the contents of his turgid cock spurting into the back of her throat. But clearly he intended more – more abuse for her, more pleasure for him.
Climbing off her, disengaging from her hot mouth, he ordered Allura onto all fours, naked in the field like an animal. He made her hand over her dress and the rest of her clothes, taunting her that perhaps she would get them back, or perhaps not.
‘How does it feel, Goldie,’ he wanted to know, ‘to be naked and helpless before a man? Crawl,’ he encouraged. ‘Let me see your slave ass move.’
Allura padded on all fours, the tall grass brushing her cheeks. Tiny insects darted about her face and flitted over her back, but she could not remove them – she could not get up.
‘If I wished I could leave you like this,’ he mused, ‘and you would have to find your way home. Someone would find you on the road, I suppose, and take you… home, that is.’ There was no mistaking the pun; clearly there was another way she could be taken and that way would be sexually.
‘We are going to end your virginity, Goldie. Are you wet for me?’
Allura knew that while the other questions were rhetorical, this was the one she must answer. ‘Yes, my master, I am wet.’
‘You will take me in a single thrust, like a good slut.’
‘I will try, master.’
Porfino broadsided her ass with the side of his boot, sending her sprawling. ‘You will do more than try, now get up slave girl.’
She resumed her position, a bit shaky, spitting grass from her lips.
‘Now, will you be a good slut and take your master’s cock in one thrust?’
‘Yes, master, I will take your cock as you say.’
‘On your elbows, slave girl. Head to the ground, ass in the air.’
Allura assumed the exquisitely vulnerable position, her cheek pressed to the grass.
‘You have a very good ass, Goldie. It is difficult to say if I’d rather beat it or fuck it.’ Porfino ran a hand across her, then inside her, obscenely. ‘What do you think?’
‘Master must do as master wills,’ she reasoned.
‘True enough, Goldie.’ He dangled a finger over her clitoris, and then pulled it back, delivering a hard smack. ‘Pain,’ he said, ‘and pleasure.’
Allura moaned, the barrier in her mind somewhat unclear. Thrice more he repeated the lesson till her senses were thoroughly confused. She was thrusting out her ass, craving the impact of his hand and cringing at the mild touch of his finger on her sex lips.
‘Even your sensations,’ Porfino concluded, ‘are not your own.’
‘Yes, master.’ Her voice was a rising pant, lifting into the clear blue, make-believe sky.
‘Shall I mount you now?’
‘Oh, master, Goldie begs to be used.’
He rubbed her bottom then spanked her harshly. ‘If I enter you, it will be in one thrust, and you will perform with perfection.’
‘I will please you, master. I am your slut.’
‘You may not come without permission,’ he warned, his cock at the lips of her sex.
‘No, master, I will not.’ She shook her head determinedly. ‘I will only obey, I will take your cock and I will please you.’
‘Of course you will,’ he condescended, ‘you are my pet.’
The pet Allura groaned from the bottom of her soul as he fulfilled, at long last, his promise to breach her, his threat and declaration to end her virginity and begin the concrete expression of her slavery.
‘Is that enjoyable?’ he asked.
‘Yes master, yes.’ A thousand times yes, but still
the question nagged. Who was he and where was she? Had she made it back across the river, through the gates out of the regions of hell, or was this some new bizarre torture? Had she really and truly lost her life? And where had Zuranos gone? He’d tricked her, it seemed, abandoned her, but why? Did he not want her for himself, at least for a little while before casting her away?
This much she knew: the cock fucking her was not Porfino’s, nor was the body. Not that she could keep hers from responding. A cock is a cock, especially when one’s virginity is being taken all over again and one is locked in a lovely fantasy of submission.
‘Remember, not before I say,’ he reminded.
Porfino’s hands were on her hips. She could feel his cock expanding and she knew it was time. Strange, she felt none of the virgin’s pain. The dream, it seemed, was flawed in its details.
‘You are a most difficult creature, you know that?’ the god complained. ‘I suppose you critique my sunsets as well?’
Allura turned her head. ‘Zuranos?’ she gasped, but when she looked it was the baron’s father, Alexo, fucking her.
‘I told you,’ the old man cackled, ‘I’d have my chance.’
‘No,’ she squealed, ‘I don’t want to play this game anymore. Do you hear me, Zuranos, or whoever is in charge? I don’t want to play.’
Alexo helped himself to her rectum. ‘Gods’ juices, that’s good,’ he grunted, sounding like a man about to expire. ‘So sweet and tight. I believe you’re even tighter than when you came to the dungeon.’
She tried to dislodge him from her, but he was not budging. Nor was he very likely to, now that he’d gotten hold of such a tasty little prize.
‘Zuranos!’ she cried. ‘Help me!’ At once the sky of pastoral blue began to darken, ominous clouds rolling. Without thunder or rain came streaks of silent lightning in deep orange, wizened fingers reaching between the earth and the heavens, and wherever it touched the grass or trees they were quietly consumed, everything in their path scorched to dust, but for the two of them.
In place of the old baron behind her and in her, however, she now saw the head of a snake, its body the thickness of a stout branch. She knew it at once to be Zuranos, and rising she began to run, Montreico’s words loud in her ears.
You will be run down, the same each day, for all eternity. It was like she’d never left the baron’s hellish city after all, but was still there dreaming of escape. But had that city been real, or was that yet another trick? Was the god setting her up all along?
Laughter in the wind, swirling about her, confirmed her worst suspicions. She’d been in the hands of Zuranos all along, the god playing every part, from the baron to the sentinel to old Alexo. All were avatars, spirit made flesh.
‘Good girl.’ The god picked her up in hands of cloud. ‘My sweet, sweet love.’
Allura felt the decay wash away, her soul cleansed of every experience he’d forced upon her. She was to be herself again, but first Zuranos would have her naked.
No flesh at all.
The god came to her in a room of white, his form that of a man garbed in gold, his hair of gold, his skin bronze, his eyes the color of burnished copper, his body chiseled, every muscle to perfection. He wore golden sandals and she was upon a bed of white, her skin as pure as alabaster. Golden cords held her limbs wide apart. She was helpless, and by her own will, too.
‘Good girl,’ repeated Zuranos in his new guise.
Allura looked into his eyes and recognized. ‘Tesotoro?’
The god laughed and crawled upon her, his cock rigid. Sinking deep, like a sword, paring her unclothed soul, he sealed the union, a knowing beyond the world of mortals.
Images flashed through her mind, her life in bits and flashes, like cords whipping round. She reached to touch them, the filaments of cracking light, the balls of glowing knowledge. So many possibilities…
‘Yes, my daughter,’ the god encouraged, slowly moving in and out of her. ‘The greater gift I give to you.’
Greater than what? She had no voice with which to ask.
‘I am coming,’ said Zuranos, and the world was born again. Old stitches pulled from the fabric, new ones added. The hand of Hechira, queen of gods, mixed with those of the king. A new cloth, its pattern leading all the way up to the life of a young princess.
Back, back in time she was swept, to a time before it all began.
Allura had been having a nightmare. Her father was being killed all over again before her eyes and a man was standing by, laughing. He called himself a baron and he had come to claim her soul – and her hand in marriage. Her great uncle had been powerless to stop it happening. For the wedding she’d been tied to a chair, a gag in her mouth. Saraveeta was forcing her down the aisle, whipping her all the way.
Awaking in a cold sweat Allura sat bolt upright. ‘Veeta!’ she cried. ‘I need you!’
The slave, who had been sleeping beside her on the floor, hurried to her side. ‘Mistress, what is happening?’
‘I had a horrible dream. Tell me, what happened yesterday?’
Veeta cocked her head. ‘Yesterday? Why, you had another suitor, a count named Raysar. From the east.’
‘Yes,’ she enthused, ‘it’s coming back to me. I thoroughly humiliated him. I told him to fuck you, didn’t I?’
The slave girl lowered her head, her black hair hanging about her face. ‘Yes, mistress.’
It really had all been just a dream.
‘So you are really still my slave?’
‘W-why wouldn’t I be, mistress?’ the girl asked nervously, guarded against some sort of a trick.
‘Pinch your nipples then, as hard as you can.’ She needed to test her powers, and naked Veeta squeezed obediently with thumb and forefinger, increasing the pressure until at last she winced, exhaling against the pain, but she did not stop until Allura allowed her to.
‘Oh, Veeta,’ she cried, ‘I’m so happy! You wouldn’t believe how terrible it was. A baron took me away and threw me in a dungeon, preferring you. Then the priestess herself came. Can you imagine it? There was a terrible battle and then you were the priestess. You said I had to marry my own uncle because he wasn’t really my uncle. You were the real princess too, and I had to pray to Zuranos for help, and then… oh, never mind, it wasn’t real. Go and draw a bath, Veeta, I want to cleanse myself of the memory.’
‘Yes, mistress, I will do so at once,’ the slave said obligingly, hurrying to do the princess’ bidding. What a pathetic little creature she was. To think she could ever have been the real princess.
Allura continued to gloat and enjoy her reprieve all morning, until at last she was notified of the day’s list of suitors. There were three; two being minor nobles with utterly boring names, but the third caught her attention.
‘The name is here, but no accounting of his status,’ she said, pondering the short list. ‘Who is this Tesotoro?’
The vizier cleared his throat. ‘He isn’t actually a noble, highness,’ he offered, somewhat sheepishly.
‘Who is he then?’
‘He is…’ the man hesitated uncomfortably, ‘a warrior. By his own account called to come here to seek you out. The grand duke had originally ordered him thrown out, but he comes under seal of the priestess.’
‘The priestess?’ Allura felt a strange chill. The priestess of the dream? And why did this name Tesotoro seem familiar? ‘Whose priestess?’ she asked cautiously.
‘The Great Mother Seer, of course,’ the man stated. ‘Who can refuse any who comes under her banner? Though obviously you can never marry a commoner.’
‘No, obviously, but I would see him, and see him first, before the others. Immediately, in fact. Send him to me.’
The vizier bowed. ‘As you wish, princess.’
‘I have seen you,’ said Allura, as soon as the man appeared.
The tall blond with broad, bronz
ed shoulders and sturdy frame, his hair braided down his back, regarded her. ‘Have you?’ he mused confidently. ‘I cannot imagine where.’
‘Would you believe I dreamed of you?’ she said, feeling strangely nervous. ‘Though you were different then. You worked for a baron, by the name of Montreico.’
‘I know of no Baron Montreico.’
She tried to place the accent. ‘You are not from our kingdom.’
‘I’m barbarian,’ he said proudly. ‘From a land where the hair of all is glorious yellow, like yours.’
Allura blushed. ‘My hair is not at issue; your intrusion here is.’
His hands were at his sword belt. He wore a shirt of mail and heavy leather trousers tucked into riding boots of dark brown calfskin. ‘This is no intrusion,’ he said simply. ‘I was sent by the god.’
‘Many claim divine inspiration for many purposes; why should I believe you?’ she asked skeptically.
The barbarian ignored the question, but looking about the room he asked, ‘Where is the girl, Saraveeta?’
Allura tensed. ‘How do you know of her?’
‘Why does that matter? I would see her, is all.’
Uncertainly the princess called for the slave, who was scrubbing her bathing quarters. She looked fetching, her skimpy brown rag of a dress soaked, her face smeared with cleansing powder.
‘Yes, mistress?’ She knelt at once, putting her head to Allura’s feet.
‘This one should not be a slave,’ said Tesotoro. ‘You have done her great injustice.’
Allura fumed. ‘How dare you judge me?’ she snapped. ‘Get out this instant or I shall have you thrown in the dungeons.’
‘Yes, that’s another specialty of yours,’ he said derisively.
‘You do not know me,’ she said defensively, quite fearful that he did. ‘And whoever has fed you these lies will hang from the gallows by morning.’
Possessing Allura Page 19
