The Empress' New Clothes

by Jaid Black

  After what felt to Zor to be a never-ending sentence in the hell fires of Nukala—the reputed winter solstice home of Aparna, the omnipotent dark goddess of war and pleasure—the royal party at last alighted into the Q’ana Tal conveyance. Sighing his relief, Zor patted Kyra affectionately on the rump, then set her down next to him in the front seat of the golden crystal carriage. Dak and Kita took the seat behind them.

  Kyra shot him a glance that spoke volumes, her lips curling in disapproval of his proprietary behavior. He merely grinned. “Let us be off.”

  “Where are we—oh my!” Kyra gasped as the ornate carriage floated off of its perch and took to the air. Suddenly, she was having too much fun to stay angry with her husband. Even the fact that his large, vein-roped arm was draped over her shoulder, allowing him to fondle her breast at his leisure, was lost on her. “Zor this is wonderful!”

  Zor grunted with satisfaction, inordinately pleased that his nee’ka approved of the conveyance he had purchased for her as a mating gift before leaving to claim her. This was the first he had seen of it. He had to admit the open-top carriage was well worth the eighty thousand credits the crystal guildsman had required as payment. If for no other reason than to see the joyful look that permeated every feature of his pani bride’s face. “I acquired it for you, my hearts. This conveyance is Q’ana Tal and therefore yours to do with as you will.”

  Kyra’s face beamed brightly. It occurred to Zor that never had a sight robbed him of his very breath until that moment. Her delight was more beautiful than the moon phasing, a stellar phenomena that occurred only once every ten Yessat years.

  During a moon phasing, the skies turn to night and every of Tryston’s seventeen moons are visible from Sand City for four successive days. ‘Twas always a time of great feasting and revelry for the Trystonni, because the moon phasing is what renews the metaphysical powers of the mystical sands. Aye, she was more beautiful even than that.

  Kyra simply couldn’t believe what her eyes were seeing. Tryston was beautiful, overwhelmingly so. The colors here were so vivid and jewel-like. Even the very air around them seemed to shimmer with flecks of gold.

  She peered down from the confines of the floating carriage and took in the sights from below. Now that they were well above what Zor had told her yesterday was called Sand City, she was able to take it all in with perspective.

  There looked to be a massive market place at the heart of the city proper, where even now she could see people bargaining for their wares. Surrounding the market, were what had to be homes—thousands of them—in row after row, all of them centered in such a way as to circle the main trading area. And every structure, whether a market stall or a private residence, was fashioned of crystal from every imaginable hue of the rainbow and then some.

  Kyra studied the streets, then gawked in amazement. “Zor! Are the roadways paved of gold?”

  “Nay, my love, all of the roadways save the one of red crystal leading to our palace are fashioned from trelli, which is composed of Trystonni sand.”

  “Sand?” Kyra’s eyes widened in disbelief. “But it shimmers like gold.”

  “’Tis not like the sand of your earth, sister,” Dak called out from behind them, “Trystonni sands are different.”

  Kita clicked out a few words, causing Kyra to gasp. “Really? That’s amazing! The sands heal?”

  “Aye,” Zor confirmed proudly. “It has many special properties, which is why our priestesses concoct spells to enchant it and our warriors guard it vigilantly from all outsiders.”

  Kyra’s eyes widened in awe as the floating carriage made its way from the city proper and toward a series of glittering sand dunes that sparkled a regal gold. Leading up to those dunes was a road of red crystal, so she knew they were getting closer to the palace.

  Kyra didn’t care that she probably looked like an eager child on Christmas Eve—this journey was too exciting by half. Knowing that she was probably the only earthling to ever witness the sight only added to her sense of giddiness. “What is the name of our home?” she inquired, squirming restively in her seat as her head darted back and forth, missing nothing and taking in everything.

  Zor’s hearts thumped pleasurably in his chest. His wee one had called it “our home”. She was no doubt unawares of the words she’d used, but no matter. “’Tis called Palace of the Dunes.”

  “Palace of the Dunes,” she murmured.

  The conveyance lurched another seventy-five feet upward, preparing to hover past the peak of a mountainous dune that looked to have fifty or more guards posted at the bottom of it. The shimmer in the air surrounding them grew denser. “What are those warriors guarding?” Kyra asked as she pointed to the foot of the glittering dune.

  “The only passable entryway leading to the palace,” Zor replied. “There is a tunnel carved into the belly of the dune that Trystonnis may pass through when granted permission to enter.”

  Kyra squinted her eyes thoughtfully. “But if an enemy wanted to breach the castle, couldn’t they simply fly over the pass like we are doing now?”

  “Nay,” Dak answered from the backseat. “The structure of your conveyance was enchanted by the Chief Priestess herself, Kyra, allowing this carriage to glide unharmed through the atmosphere. No man or woman alive is a match for the awesome powers of the Holy One. Did an enemy ship come within a hundred yards of the dune we are now passing over, the very air about us would disintegrate it instantaneously.”

  Kyra gasped in amazement and not a little awe as she studied the dense, glittering air that became its heaviest at the peak of the mountainous dune that cut the palace off from the rest of Sand City. “That is the coolest thing I’ve ever heard! I never even saw anything like that on Star Trek back home!”

  Zor chuckled wryly. He turned around and winked at his brother. “Bloodthirsty wench, my nee’ka.”

  When Dak laughed, Kyra threw them an impatient glance. “You both have to admit, this really is cool.”

  “Aye, nee’ka. Whatever you say, my hearts.”

  Kyra frowned at Zor’s patronizing tone. When Dak’s laughter grew bolder at her expense, she favored him with the middle finger without so much as turning around. Apparently the symbol was not only universal, but her lecherous brother-in-law found it amusing instead of irritating. She had meant it to be irritating.

  Zor drew Kyra’s hand down and kissed it sweetly. Trying to look stern, he gently admonished her for exhibiting so crude a gesture. “An Empress doesn’t do things like that, pani. You will cause the wives of the high lords to swoon do you do that in their presence whilst holding court.”

  “Holding court?” Kyra screeched. She shook her head and frowned. “Good grief. I’m a tax accountant, Zor. I don’t know anything about holding court.”

  Zor waved a hand dismissively. “This you will be taught by noble women you befriend, or mayhap by my brother Rem’s nee’ka if they come visit. Rem is the youngest brother to Kil, Dak, and myself,” he explained, “and is the King of Sypar, one of Tryston’s lesser moons.”

  Kyra chuckled. Her head fluttered about in amused disbelief. “Rem is a semi-normal name, I suppose, but what did you call the other one?”

  “Kil.”

  “You actually have a brother named Kil? Good grief. I hope he’s not as ferocious as he sounds.”

  “He is, if not worse.”

  There was no amusement in Zor’s barely audible confession, only what sounded like a whisper of remorse and a lot of guilt for what his brother was. The look on his face made Kyra’s heart constrict—an empathetic condition she chose not to dwell upon. Clearing her throat, she pointed toward the outside of the conveyance, hoping to turn the topic. “It looks like the enchanted fog is letting up.”

  The pad of Zor’s thumb resumed its brushing motion against Kyra’s aroused nipple, telling her without words that his spirits had been restored. Odd that she would care. “Aye. We are almost through the barrier the Chief Priestess erected. On the other side lay the Palace of the
Dunes.”

  Without even thinking about it, Kyra’s hand clutched Zor’s knee in anticipation. He smiled into her hair, planting a feathery kiss atop her fire-berry head. Fully aroused, Zor inhaled deeply, knowing now was not the time for his lust. “We are almost there, nee’ka.”

  Kyra heaved in a breath of air when the Palace of the Dunes loomed into view. Never, ever had she beheld such a wondrous sight as this. Nestled within a cloister of mammoth dunes of golden sand, was a behemoth castle made of shimmering black crystal. The sparkle of the structure alone was enough to set anyone’s jaw to gaping. The beautiful jutting turrets fashioned of colored jewels only heightened the intensity of the effect. The palace was magnificent.

  “My god,” Kyra whispered breathlessly, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  Zor slowly nodded his head in agreement, looking at the palace through the eyes of his pani bride instead of through the eyes of a man who’d dwelled within the castle perimeter all of his years of life. “You think it worthy of you?”

  Kyra’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Worthy of me?” She shook her head. “I’m not worthy of it,” she mumbled.

  Zor felt immediately humbled by her words. He didn’t agree with Kyra, of course, but was pleased she thought the palace a beauty. Rem’s nee’ka had always thought it eerie, ever grateful she was to leave it and retire to her own castle on Sypar.

  Zor’s hold on Kyra tightened appreciably. Gathering her closer, his right hand continued to stroke her nipple, while his left hand slithered up her thigh and disappeared under the skirt of her qi’ka. “’Tis glad I am that you like it.”

  Kyra’s face flushed red. She was about to ask him to stop, then decided against it. She didn’t want to call attention to what Zor was doing—she’d rather wait and have that conversation alone.

  And when Kyra realized that he wasn’t going to force her to climax, her screaming nerves relaxed again. Zor’s hand was staying put, petting her curls lazily, but straying no further. Deciding to save her breath for when it would matter, she put the situation from her mind and focused on the palace up ahead. They were almost there.

  A tendril of premonition passed through Kyra’s consciousness.

  She didn’t know how and she didn’t comprehend why, but Kyra suddenly realized that she would never be allowed to leave this place. Like it or not, she was gawking at her new, permanent home.

  Chapter 10

  The Chief Priestess was the first to greet Kyra and Zor upon their arrival. Others were gathered about, looking their fill at the wee High Queen, but spoke not a word. They all realized it was the right of the Holy One to speak to her first. Even Zor deferred to her, offering Kyra’s arm to the most exalted mystic among them.

  Leading the new Empress and High Queen away from her Sacred Mate and down a fascinating corridor carved of green crystal, the Chief Priestess looped her arm through Kyra’s and steered her into a chamber of blue crystal, where the women could speak confidentially.

  Kyra marveled at the room around her. The chamber cast off a beautiful blue glow that was noticeable, yet didn’t hurt the eyes. Further into the room, tall tree-like plants of sparkling purple surrounded what looked to be a curving pool-like structure of shimmering silver water.

  “Shall we partake of the ceremonial bath?”

  Kyra’s head snapped to attention, having forgotten for a moment that she wasn’t alone. She turned to study the Chief Priestess who was even now divesting herself of her dark qi’ka.

  Kyra wasn’t certain what she had been expecting—perhaps someone that looked older and more omnipotent—but a tanned, statuesque blonde with large perky breasts, puffy pink nipples, and the nicest butt Kyra had ever seen, certainly wasn’t it.

  As if reading her thoughts, the Chief Priestess grinned, her trill chuckles sounding throughout the chamber of blue crystal. The woman was a dead-ringer for Pamela Sue Anderson. “Come,” she smiled, “let us take the ceremonial bath together and I shall try to answer your questions.”

  Kyra slowly nodded. “All right.” A little embarrassed to be totally naked in anyone’s presence, even another woman’s, she took her time undressing. The Chief Priestess waited patiently, giving Kyra time to adjust to the situation. After a short lapse, she was naked and following the mystic into the silvery waters.

  “I am called Ari,” the Chief Priestess announced over her shoulder. She then took a seat on a soft jewel-like rock within the water. “I would be honored did you call me by my given name. Might I call you Kyra, my High Queen?”

  “Yes, of course.” Kyra perched on the rock adjacent to Ari’s, noting with some degree of shyness that the lulling waters came only waist high, exposing both pairs of breasts to the other’s view. She took a deep breath and tried not to look mortified. “What do we use as soap here?”

  Ari grinned, causing Kyra to wonder not for the first time just how old the beautiful Chief Priestess was. The powerful woman had the hard body of an eighteen-year-old, but Kyra doubted that anyone who could enchant sand, foretell the future, and cast spells would be so young.

  “You are right. I am one-hundred Yessat years.”

  Kyra gasped. Her eyes rounded tellingly. “But how…”

  “I can read your mind.” Ari grinned again. “Do not worry over it. Once we leave this chamber and take away your fears, I will not pry into your mind again. I do so now only that you might not doubt my abilities later.”

  Kyra snorted very un-empress-like. “As if that could happen.”

  Ari chuckled softly. It occurred to Kyra that the sound of her laughter was as lovely as her body.

  “Thank you.”

  Embarrassed, Kyra bit her lip and turned her head to the side. Immediately contrite, Ari reached out and stroked her mane of fire-berry hair. “’Tis all right. We do not inhibit pleasure on Tryston the way you do on your planet. Nor are women here embarrassed to display their charms.”

  “So I’ve noticed,” Kyra muttered.

  Ari laughed. “Ah. So you did take note of the nee’kas of lesser kings and high lords gathered about, did you not?”

  Kyra frowned in thought. She remembered one female in particular. The petite brunette sporting a white and completely transparent qi’ka she had passed en route to the blue room hadn’t seemed embarrassed to be on display at all. She had enjoyed the attention of the lusting warriors, reveling in it even. Kyra envied her, if for nothing else, her ability to be so uninhibited. “Yes, I noticed. Why are they here?”

  “They await you to finish your bath that they might dine with you this moon-rising at the consummation feast.”

  A tic appeared in Kyra’s jaw. “C-Consummation dinner? They aren’t expecting me to have sex with Zor in front of them are they?”

  “By the sands, no!” Ari threw her head back and laughed. When her amusement waned a bit, she shook her head and grinned. An engaging dimple popped out. “Only I will bear witness to the joining.”

  Kyra clapped a hand to her forehead. “You have to watch? Good grief!”

  Ari grasped a hold of her hand and clutched it soothingly. “’Twill be all right, Kyra. Believe me, you will want me there for your first coupling.”

  “I will? What for?” she asked apprehensively. An image of Zor’s manhood rending her in half exploded into her mind.

  Ari tried desperately not to laugh, for it seemed ‘twas all she’d done since meeting the pani High Queen. Biting her lip, Ari shook her head. “You will not be split asunder, my friend, yet for virgins the breaching can be difficult. I will leave once the High King’s rod is fully embedded within your channel.”

  “But I’m not a virgin.”

  “Have you mated with a Trystonni warrior before?”

  “No.”

  Ari waved dismissively. “You are virgin.”

  “Good grief.” Kyra felt faint. Crossing her arms protectively over her breasts, she shuddered. “Are warriors that big?”

  Ari licked her lips as if recalling a tempting morsel she’d in
dulged in on some past occasion. “Aye.”

  Kyra’s only response was a gargled, strangling sound.

  Ari chuckled again. She couldn’t help but to like the amusing High Queen. “Now to answer your earlier question…”

  Kyra wrinkled her nose. Smiling for the first time, she shook her head. “Forgive me, but I’m so overwhelmed I haven’t the foggiest notion what question I asked.”

  “’Tis all right. You asked what kind of soap we use.”

  “Ah yes. So what kind is that?”

  Ari gestured toward the cool, inviting waters the women were halfway submerged into. “The lesser priestesses of Sand City have enchanted all bathing facilities within the Palace of the Dunes. A cleaning substance is in the waters, washing away impurities as we speak.”

  “That is so cool.” Kyra cupped her hands together under the silvery liquid, then splashed the cool water over her breasts. “We don’t even need sponges?”

  Ari shrugged. “Nay, but we will be washed more thoroughly momentarily. Kefa slaves will arrive the soonest to see to that.”

  “S-Slaves?” Offended, Kyra’s hands flew to her hips. “That’s deplorable!”

  “Not at all.”

  “How can you say that?”

  Ari smiled. She appreciated the fact that unlike every other person in Sand City, male or female, Kyra didn’t approach her with kid gloves, fearing to be turned into a titzi. “They are not thinking creatures, Kefas, merely enchanted ones.”

  At the High Queen’s furrowed brow, the Chief Priestess tried to explain. “I read your thoughts and see your planet’s past in them. Making a slave of a Kefa is not like making a slave of a human of a different race.” She gestured absently. “’Tis like making a slave of a machine.”

  Kyra bit her lip. “They are machines then?”