Caralissa's Conquest Page 9

  The sudden contact, as unexpected as it was openly sexual, caused Caralissa to leap backwards, her heart thumping like a threatened doe. ‘I - I must go,’ she stammered, attempting to bypass him.

  The soldier collared her, his hand gripping at the back of her neck as he drew her into his embrace. His kiss was wet and offensive, and yet, in her boiling need she found herself moaning, opening, yielding.

  ‘You will see Lord Senelek,’ the man confirmed, worming his tongue from between her lips. ‘Now.’

  The command was punctuated with a stinging blow to her exposed buttocks. It jolted her all the more for its coming from a hand other than that of Varik - her punisher, her one and only lover, her lord. ‘You won’t get away with this,’ she told him, even as she hastened to keep ahead of him so as to avoid any more blows. ‘Varik will find you out.’

  ‘Just keep moving, wench,’ he advised, his breath hot in her ear, his hand insolently caressing her bottom cheeks. ‘And save your tongue for my prick.’

  A chill of fevered weakness passed through Caralissa’s body as she contemplated the man’s threats. She was going to be made to serve him, intimately and with her mouth as she had Varik. And even now she was walking towards that fate, her own degradation awaiting her in Senelek’s tent. Would there be others, she wondered? And what about the high priest himself - would he have her too?

  ‘Inside,’ he snarled, shoving her through the opening of the black tent striped in red. ‘Time to teach you some respect.’

  The man sealed the tent opening behind him. It was dark inside, save for a single glowing light, green and flickering, contained in a glass lantern hung from the centre pole. The ground was soft. A rug of some kind lay over the bare ground. She looked about her. The tent walls were thick and overhung with layers of tapestry. Shining chains of gold and hanging metal bowls were arrayed from the corner poles. It was a damp, misty gloom that pervaded the room, an aura made even more sinister by the smell of burnt incense.

  Caralissa sought to adjust her eyes, sought to make sense of the strange shadows that hung across her field of vision preventing her from seeing anything clearly. There seemed no signs of life about her and yet she felt eyes in the blackness, peering at her, probing and poking.

  ‘Kneel, Orencian slut,’ the soldier barked, snatching the jug from her and pushing her down by her shoulder till she was on her knees, the rug ticklish against her skin. ‘Kneel and pay homage.’

  The robed figure emerged from the shadows as though he were one himself. Caralissa was on the verge of looking up to identify the face when she felt a sudden force on her back, compelling her to lower her head till her lips were touching the red slippers, narrow and curved at the toe. Grasping the hint, Caralissa puckered her lips and kissed them, one after the other, rapidly, gingerly.

  ‘See how naturally the slut abases herself, Gatal,’ she heard Senelek say to her escort.

  ‘All the world shall kneel to you, Lord Senelek,’ Gatal replied, his voice thick with religious fervour.

  ‘Varik will have your head for this, Lord Senelek,’ Caralissa retorted, straightening herself to look up at him defiantly as she spat out his title with as much contempt as she could manage. ‘You know he will.’

  He was looking deeply into her eyes, but she did not flinch. Kill me, her gaze told him silently. I have nothing more to lose.

  She heard the sound of scraping metal coming from beside her. It was a scabbard out of which was being drawn a sword. There was another man now, standing beside the unspeaking Senelek. A second later she felt sharp metal as the lethal blade was placed across the back of her neck.

  ‘No, pretty little whore,’ came the new man’s voice, slightly nasal as he pressed the sword a tiny bit harder. ‘It is Lord Senelek who will have yours.’

  ‘Put that away, Birat,’ chided Senelek, sounding for a brief moment as if he sympathised with the prisoner. ‘It is not our place to kill her. The law is very clear on the treatment of whores. They must be dealt with according to their sex and status.’

  ‘I am not a whore,’ she defied, not caring if they chose to strike her dead. ‘I am a queen.’

  ‘How dare you?’ growled yet another man, emerging from behind to threaten her with the back of his hand.

  ‘No, Voorash, do not strike her. Let us use reason instead.’

  ‘Yes, Lord,’ the new man deferred, lowering his arm at once.

  ‘Reason?’ Caralissa scoffed. ‘What would you know of such things, barbarian?’

  There were growls of indignation from every side.

  Senelek calmed them with a single word in Rashal, delivered with clipped intensity. His minions reminded her of snarling dogs, obedient to the one man who was more vicious than they.

  ‘I am a barbarian, yes,’ Senelek agreed, his voice showing exaggerated calm. ‘It is a fact I am quite proud of. Among the civilised peoples - the so-called civilised, I should say - I saw such horrors and atrocities, all hidden and couched in finery, of course, as to make me vow never to even remotely resemble them in any way. Do you see this mark, majesty?’

  Senelek bent to show her his forearm. She attempted to twist her head, to avert her gaze from the mark, deep and red, a groove in the skin, intricate, made of lines, crossed with other lines. It was deep and ugly.

  ‘Why do you look away, noble queen?’ Senelek asked, grasping her chin to compel her attention. ‘Does it disturb you to see upon me the mark of civilisation?’

  ‘Orencia practices no such mutilations,’ she said. ‘Nor is there any form of branding in all of the Seven Kingdoms of the valley, not even upon slaves.’

  ‘How pleased your slaves must be,’ Senelek snorted. ‘To know they are spared any unpleasantness.’ He released her, thrusting back her chin contemptuously.

  ‘I am not responsible for what happened to you,’ she persisted. ‘Nor are my people.’

  ‘Then I shall make them responsible!’ Senelek thundered, shaking his fist. ‘I shall make them pay. And I can, you know. Varik controls the army, but I have at my disposal holy warriors. Fewer in number, but highly effective.’ He paused, watching her, gauging the effect of his words, the anticipation of what he said next.

  Bending even further forward, he spoke nearly in a whisper. ‘I need only give the order, my queen, and Orencia will cease to exist.’

  Caralissa fought to keep her face devoid of expression. To be conquered by the Rashal was one thing. There would be fires, hostages taken tribute to pay. But to face the kind of attack Senelek was hinting at was unthinkable. ‘What do you want?’ she asked, seeking to hide her terror.

  He folded his arms inside the thick robe. ‘To begin with,’ he said with deep satisfaction, ‘I wish you to put your hand between your thighs, my little foreign slut. Then I want you to stroke yourself deeply and show me upon your fingers whether you are wet or dry.’

  Caralissa heard the words as if from the end of a tunnel. Just as distant seemed her own response, as she put her fingers to her sopping sex, drawing off a thin film of the musky substance. The feel of her own vaginal opening nearly made her swoon. It wasn’t fair, not fair at all to employ such power over her, to invoke in her such feelings, such needs. What was it about being commanded by strong men, about being made to surrender her will that so excited her?

  ‘Hold up your hand, now,’ Senelek said. ‘Show us the results.’

  Caralissa bowed her head, lowering it below her upraised arm as she presented for his inspection the glistening tips of her fingers.

  ‘It is as I thought,’ he hissed. ‘You are a slut. Even when faced with the extermination of your own people you juice like a whore, a she-slave.’

  ‘Do what you will to me,’ she declared. ‘But spare my people.’

  ‘Touch yourself again,’ Senelek demanded. ‘More deeply this time.’

  Caralissa looked at him in horror then lowered he
r eyes. He did not intend to relent; he would never relent. She saw that now. Spreading her legs more widely she gave him what he wanted. A demonstration of her true nature as a slut. Biting her lip, her fingers hot over her clitoris, she resisted the impulse to beg them to take her.

  ‘Yes,’ he confirmed a moment later as the spasms began to hit her, ‘that is how you must be in my presence. Show me what you truly are. Yes, make yourself flow hotly. There - that is enough. Now put your fingers to your lips; use your tongue, taste your own evil fluid.’

  Caralissa trembled, her climax cut off prematurely. She did not know if she could remain upright, if she could manage to move her own arm, to complete the terrible deed. Eyes glued to her fingers, tears brimming, she watched their approach, inexorably moving towards her waiting mouth.

  He could not make her do this. It was too shameful!

  ‘Now!’ hissed Senelek, his cruel command enforced by the resurgent blade of Birat, now pressed pointedly at her left nipple. ‘Lick yourself now!’

  Caralissa nearly fainted. Moaning, arching her back, she sucked her fingers till they were clean. Desperately, in the back of her mind, she tried to rationalise the act, even as she performed for them as a captive slut. Repugnant as Senelek was, after all, he was Varik’s brother and deserved her obedience on account of her feelings for him. Besides which, he was male and she was female; how could she do aught but obey one of them after having been dealt with so thoroughly on their behalf by Varik? It was a result of her captivity that was all. And her people - how could she risk their deaths by disobeying?

  ‘Enough,’ said Senelek to Birat, who withdrew the sword. ‘You may take your hand from your mouth,’ the high priest declared, stepping forward so that his midsection was an inch from her face. ‘You will now put it back between your legs,’ he added, his voice thick with the satisfaction of complete victory of his will over hers. ‘You will continue in this manner as we converse.’

  Caralissa returned her fingers to her burning womb. Would Senelek allow her to come? And if he did - given the current circumstances - would it be a blessing or a curse? And what of Varik - would he forgive his brother such liberties, or would he fly into a rage when he found out? She laughed to herself, thinking of the beast. More likely he’d encourage his brother, Caralissa thought, rubbing herself harder, the warlord’s presumed insolence arousing her to fever pitch.

  ‘Aah,’ she cried, the sound a long hiss as the convulsions began, the preliminary waves.

  ‘Silence, slut,’ Senelek commanded, showing his utter indifference to whether she pleasured herself to climax or not. ‘And open your ears to listen to my offer. It is an offer I do not think you will dare refuse once you have heard it.’

  ‘The Rashal are noted for their generosity,’ she observed, the words coming in short stabs of breath as she tried to recover herself.

  ‘The Rashal are destined to rule the world,’ corrected Senelek, snapping his fingers so that the lantern might be adjusted. Caralissa grimaced, the greenish light having been redirected to her body. Her flushed skin shone with an eerie glow.

  ‘Varik does not seem to share that ambition,’ she countered boldly, attempting to keep her breathing steady. It was not her intention to climax, to shame herself in such a manner in front of these men, and yet how would she be able to resist, as long as Senelek compelled her to touch herself?

  Senelek stepped from his pointed slippers. His toes bore rings and his skin smelt sickly sweet. ‘The will of an individual means nothing among the Rashal,’ he said. ‘Not even that of a chieftain.’

  Caralissa bit her lip, needing the pain to keep her focused. It was madness, having to stimulate herself all the while fighting the inevitable release, the craved for conclusion she’d been needing for so long. ‘And yet you seem to place so much stock in your own will,’ she suggested, approaching his blatant megalomania in as subtle a manner as possible.

  Senelek shook his head. ‘Not my will,’ he declared, opening his robe and shedding it from his broad shoulders. ‘The will of the gods.’

  She beheld his naked body. It was oiled and muscled, but strangely pale in comparison to his brother’s.

  ‘Praise be the gods of the Rashal,’ repeated the men in unison.

  Caralissa regarded Senelek’s limp shaft, which was close enough to touch. Or kiss. ‘I know what you worship,’ she said pointedly. ‘I know what you serve.’

  ‘Insolent slut,’ he hissed, stroking himself, his eyes slowly closing. ‘You know nothing. But you will be taught.’

  There was silence as they all waited for the high priest to bring himself to erection. This achieved, he reopened his eyes, refreshed, as if having just completed a long nap. ‘Let us begin the conversation anew,’ he said, taking a deep breath, ‘shall we?’

  ‘I’m a captive audience,’ she shrugged, conveying as much irony as possible.

  Senelek began to pace in front of Caralissa, from left to right and back again. ‘We have a problem, you and I, a common problem, one which begs a single solution.’

  ‘Oh?’ She tried not to laugh at the sight of his erect member, preceding him as though he were a man being walked by a worm. ‘And what problem is that?’

  ‘Why, Varik’s deep attachment for you, of course,’ he laughed. ‘Isn’t that obvious? So long as my brother craves you, in this most unhealthy, unholy manner, he will never return you to your home - which I assure you, highness, is the outcome we both desire.’

  Caralissa braced herself. It was too late; she was going over the top. ‘What do you care if I make it home alive?’ she asked, the first waves of her orgasm closing over her.

  Home. What was home any more? It felt now as if she’d been born in this place, in this camp, on the furs of the warlord Varik, and here again, here and now upon the rugs of a wicked, lust-filled priest. Home was the iron will of Varik, his implacable need pressed upon her, his hand, smoothly striking, making her wince and beg. Home was the empty craving in her heart which needed filling by Varik’s arrogance, his wild-eyed lust. How her being a queen fit into this, how the needs of Orencia and her people configured in this new scheme, she did not know. It was a shameful truth, one that dishonoured her in her father’s immortal eyes, and yet she was a female, a girl with needs and she could no longer deny this.

  Senelek honed in. Directly in front of her again he absorbed her anxious trembling, the self-yielding. Unable to hold back or hide it, she gave it to him, her passion’s flower, callously beheld by his indifferent eyes. Weeping, she convulsed again and again till the throes of her orgasm passed.

  ‘The reason I care,’ Senelek said after she subsided and was able to focus on his cruel, contemptuous face once more, ‘is because you and I both know that so long as Varik burns for your unworthy body, he is of no use to the Rashal. We must, therefore, work together to break his attachment.’

  How badly she wanted to lay down, to close her eyes and sleep. ‘I have no control over Varik,’ she managed weakly. ‘I did not ask him to want me. I made no effort to seduce him.’

  As if she could seduce a man of such splendid power even if she wanted!

  ‘All whores say the same thing,’ he declared, his organ poking her face. ‘Which is why we must remind him what you truly are.’

  ‘I - I do not understand,’ she said, her voice conveying the simple truth.

  ‘Varik thinks you are a gift of the gods, a treasure sent to him, a wonder of the heavens. By lying with you he thinks to find his bliss, to forget the woes of his office. Were he to see in you something else, he would abandon this childish idea. Here then is my plan, my little queen. Tell me when I am done if you do not agree - bearing in mind, of course, that your agreement will markedly increase your people’s chance of survival in my eyes.’

  She nodded, admitting ahead of time her inevitable acquiescence.

  Senelek smiled smugly, his eyes glowing with love fo
r his own deviousness. ‘You will be returned to Varik, evidence of your lying with others thick upon your person,’ he explained, wasting no time on niceties. ‘He will see you in this state, and will find himself unable to bear the sight of you. You will then be returned to your castle.’

  ‘Evidence?’ Caralissa singled out the word, so glibly issued from his tongue, yet so crucial to her own life. ‘What evidence do you mean?’

  He grinned, exchanging glances with the men behind her. ‘Use your imagination,’ he said, ‘your majesty.’

  ‘I see. So I shall lie to him and say I have been with others, and by my own will?’

  Senelek laughed, encouraging the others to do the same. ‘You will not have to lie, my dear,’ he said to her at last. ‘You will tell him quite honestly.’

  Caralissa stiffened. ‘The men that do this thing,’ she said. ‘Varik would have them killed, would he not?’

  ‘Not if I intervene, to conceal their identity. And if they are men I trust there will be no chance at all of their discovery.’

  ‘How convenient,’ she conceded. ‘For those particular men.’

  Senelek meant he and his deputies, of course. Though there was no point in mentioning the fact.

  ‘There is one more thing you should consider,’ Senelek offered, stroking her hair, his thick member at the verge of entering her tightened lips. ‘Your prompt removal from this camp and Varik’s equally prompt return to his duty protects him as well. Consider it a guarantee for him, against insurrection.’

  Caralissa felt the blood drain from her face. The man was threatening his brother, warning her that if she did not cooperate, Varik himself might be eliminated. Was there no limit to Senelek’s ambition, to his outrageous evil?

  ‘Varik will never be beaten by you,’ she declared, retracting her face as far from his imperiously outthrust crotch as possible, given her kneeling position. ‘You are not his equal, and that is why you hate him so much.’

  Senelek’s eyes glowed a little more hotly. ‘Perhaps I am his equal,’ he crooned suggestively, his hands thick in her hair. ‘In at least one area.’