Bertrice Small - Captivated

"Possibly," Zenaida told him. "Understand, the queen must love you, not just make love to you. Few Kavan women under the age of fifteen are virgins. We celebrate life, our bodies, and all that it entails. Kalida has an insatiable appetite for making love, but, sadly, no man has ever captured her heart. If you can do that, my handsome princeling, your fate will be golden. You will live in the Outer Palace of the Consorts, and nothing, even other women, will ever be denied to you."

"But my sons, if the gossips of Ramaskhan are to be believed, will be removed from their mother's home at the age of eight, and trained as warriors to be sent off at sixteen, and never seen again," he said.

"But is that not what men love to do best, Dagon? Fight. We simply teach our sons how to fight, and how to survive in a man's world. Kavan cohorts are extremely valuable, and greatly sought after. We turn your male vice into a commercial asset," she chuckled. Then she reached over, and patted his hand. "You will not be forbidden from seeing your sons. Their barracks are quite near the Outer Palace. You will probably see more of them there than when they live within the city proper. Besides, your life will not be that of a love slave. You will have other duties that will keep you quite busy, I promise. Certainly a young man trained to be a king has other talents than a large penis."

"Now, however, you will want a woman to satisfy those pent-up lusts of yours. How long has it been since you have had a woman?"

He flushed at the directness of her query. "Months," he admitted.

Zenaida smiled, showing a row of strong, even white teeth. It was not a smile of amusement, but rather one of understanding. "My poor princeling," she consoled him. Then she turned to the young women serving them. "Well, which one of you wants him tonight? Do not quarrel among yourselves, for you will all have your turn."

"We already decided amongst ourselves, great lady," a yellow-haired girl said, stepping forward. "We drew lots, and I have won him for this sleep time."

"They are so practical, eh, Dagon, but, as you can see, there has been no quarreling about the pleasure of your company. Would men be so pragmatic regarding a beautiful woman?" Zenaida chuckled. "I think not. There would be some sort of argument, and then the poor girl would end up having to entertain a dozen randy cocks. Her name is Dore, by the way. Go along now, and enjoy each other's company," the older woman said.

Dore took Dagon by the hand, pulling him up from the cushions and leading him off through a red silk curtain into a small sleeping space. The curtain fell with a soft sound, shielding them from the rest of the tent. He looked about. The space was empty but for a large mattress set upon a wooden dais.

"On your knees, slave!" Dore commanded. "You must be taught that women are your betters." She pushed him gently, but firmly.

His first instinct was outrage, but then, catching himself, he obeyed her. Escape meant gaining the trust of these women.

Dore slid out of her simple gown, revealing her nakedness to him. "You will place your hands behind your head, slave. You will not be permitted to touch me with your hands unless I give you permission to do so. Do you understand me?"

He nodded, saying softly as he did so, "Yes, mistress."

"Oh, that is very good!" Dore told him, sounding quite pleased. "I shall reward you, slave. You may lick my slit, but you will not push between my nether lips until I allow it." She positioned herself so that her lover's mount was directly before him.

His tongue slipped from between his lips, and with its very tip, he began to stroke the dark pink slash that ran down her plump lover's mount. Her lush body smelled of flowers, but her feminine musk was very exciting. He longed to touch her more intimately, but he did not.

Dore reached down with her hands suddenly, and pulled her nether lips open, revealing her treasures to him. "Pleasure me, slave," she said softly, "but remember, you must keep your hands behind your head unless I tell you otherwise."

His tongue immediately found her pleasure point, and he began to lick at it; softly at first, and then with vigor. She tasted like wild honey, and he watched, fascinated, as the sweetly tortured tip of her sex began to grow deep pink and swell with her rising excitement.

She moaned with her enjoyment, and then shuddered violently with delight as she reached the apex of her satisfaction. Her hands fell away, and she sighed gustily. "That was quite wonderful," she told him, her voice still a little breathless. "I shall be certain to tell the others of how clever a tongue you have, slave. Stand up now, and I shall return the favor." He rose to his feet, and carefully she unwrapped the length of linen about his loins. Then she fell to her knees, catching his hand up and beginning to suck his finger while her other hand fondled him. "Ummmmm," she murmured. "Your skin is so soft for a man." The hand caressed his buttocks while she continued to suck each finger in turn.

He stood quietly looking down at her. She was a pretty girl with nice big round breasts he would enjoy. "The gods!" He groaned aloud as she suddenly took him into her mouth. His fingers had obviously been but an appetizer to the main course. She pushed back his foreskin, and her tongue teased about the head of his cock, and then she began to suck him, drawing his length deep into her throat, pulling on him so strongly that he grew quickly hard. He was so swollen that he was amazed her seemingly dainty mouth could contain him. He groaned again, and, unable to help himself, loosed his juices down her throat. "Ahhhhhhhh!" Still, she suckled him forcefully, making certain she drew every drop he had to give. His legs almost buckled beneath him.

Then, as quickly as she had begun her sweet torture, Dore rose to her feet, her little tongue swiping about her mouth. "There!" she said. "The edge is off your lust now, and we can enjoy ourselves. Do not, however, loose your juices in the future until you are given permission. You are now permitted to touch me. Come. Lie with me, Dagon." She pulled him toward the large sleeping mat.

"You are experienced," he managed to say weakly as they lay down.

"I should hope so," Dore said with a toss of her yellow head. "I am seventeen, and have had at least a dozen lovers since my first man. He was my mother's body servant, and I gave him to myself on my fourteenth birthday. We lay beneath a full summer's moon. When my mother found us, he was atop me plunging mightily. My mother was furious."

"Because you stole her lover?" Dagon asked. His fingers began to worry at one of her nipples.

"Oh, no! She had long ago discarded Brann as a lover. He was merely her servant. She was angry because he was atop me, and I knew better than to allow a man the dominant position. So did Brann. She whipped him herself, and gave him for common pleasures for a whole day." Dore giggled. "The women so exhausted him that he could hardly walk when his punishment time was completed." Dore giggled with the memory.

"What are 'common pleasures?' " he asked her, curious, taking the nipple into his mouth to play with it.

"Ohhh, that's nice," Dore said, purring. "When a slave is disobedient in Kava, his mistress may take him to the main square of the city where he is spread-eagled upon a platform, and any woman who wants to, may use him as she sees fit. The platform can be rotated, and so the man may be taken in the proper position, whipped upon his buttocks, or taken in an improper manner. Most women only punish their slaves for a few hours at the most, but even if I hadn't known better, Brann did, which is why my mother gave him to the city for a whole day. He was not a particularly good lover I have since learned. On your back now, slave! I want to sheath you."