ONE
DUINE
“Take off your clothes.”
To her credit, the woman only hesitated a moment, before starting to undress.
“Slowly,” I instructed.
She hesitated again, this time thinking how best to please me (or so I believed). Which was good, but seduction was clearly not instinctive to her. Some women know how to strip and make a show of it, others need instructions and however closely they follow those instructions, the results are never overly impressive. There is certainly something to be said for confidence.
Still, she was not an unattractive woman, her nervousness had a naïve charm of its own, and watching her was still quite pleasing. I thought about taking a few pictures on my mobile, if only to make her more amusingly self-conscious, but sometimes it is more fun just to be in the moment. Besides, the security cameras (unmanned at present) would capture everything if ever I wanted to relive it.
And I doubted I did.
I reached for the wine glass beside me, where sat a piquant merlot. Without ever taking my eyes off the woman, I took a long sip. Her long hair tumbled free—mousey brown, but appealing enough. She turned her back so I could see her hand slowly draw down the zip of her dress. That was quite well done; she was a fast study.
I adjusted the front of my trousers, which were already starting to feel a bit constricting. Turning back around to face me, her eyes peering apprehensively through the curtain of her hair, she peeled away the top of her dress to reveal large, heavy breasts in a lacy bra. Given my choice—and as High Mage and Lord of the King’s Alliance, I was well-placed to take my choice—I liked my women in their early twenties, which this one certainly was not, but she was no more than thirty-five and her figure was full, but well-proportioned. Besides, this was not an ordinary situation and the specific circumstances brought pleasures of their own.
As she began to shimmy the dress down her hips, I raised a lazy hand and made a circling gesture with my finger, instructing her to turn—I wanted to see her ass when she removed the dress. The woman did as she was instructed and the sight did not disappoint—the front of my pants now clearly showing my approval. Enjoying the show, I took another sip of merlot and wondered if it was odd that while I didn’t know this woman’s name, I did know that of her brother.
He was called Devin, and he was currently sitting in one of my cells, awaiting judgement on the crime of Vicious Dissent. Specifically, he’d voiced dissatisfaction with my leadership of the King’s Alliance. Such dissatisfaction breeds dissent, dissent breeds revolt, and a strong leader does not tolerate revolt. Revolt must be crushed.
Thus, Devin was awaiting judgement, but everyone knew what said judgement would be; Devin would die. Which was why his sister had come here to plead her brother’s case. I had asked her what she had to offer, and now I was about to find out.
It wouldn’t make a difference of course; dissent could not be tolerated. But it would have been cruel not to allow her to believe she’d done everything she could to save this Devin. I’m certainly not an unkind man.
With the dress crumpled on the floor at her feet, she tried to coquettishly kick it away, but fumbled the attempt. So she moved onto her bra, again turning her back so I could see her undo the clip before facing me once more as she allowed her breasts to tumble free. They were round and generous, and I allowed myself a growl of approval to let her know she was doing quite well. She was now naked, except for a small pair of panties, and I thought I saw her hesitate again before removing this final barrier to my greedy eyes.
“Don’t stop.” Though I said the words softly, there was no mistaking my tone of command.
The woman (Freya? Was that her name? It would do—I certainly couldn’t keep calling her ‘the woman’) moved quickly now, anxious not to upset me for her own sake as much as that of her brother. It was good to see her keen to fulfill my wishes, but there was something clumsily hurried as she looped her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and drew them down her legs, exposing herself fully to me for the first time.
“Turn around.”
Awkward and vulnerable, Freya (probably) turned around on the spot.
“Slower.”
Again, she followed my instruction and I roasted her naked body with my gaze, taking in every curve, every crease, every inch of sublime flesh and every tiny imperfection. It was not so much that I wanted to look at her, but I enjoyed her obvious discomfort in the heat of my gaze.
“Come here.”
Still tentative, but growing more confident as she became accustomed to being naked before me, she walked to where I sat.
“Kneel.”
Freya knelt down in front before me, delightfully subservient. I quite felt like the English kings of yore, whose subjects showed them proper deference.
There was no need for words now, I simply let my eyes travel down to the increasingly prominent bulge in the front of my pants.
Freya’s hands trembled slightly as she undid first my belt, then the buttons of my fly. Negotiating my boxer-briefs, she reached in and drew my aroused weapon out, her fingers feeling cool against my enflamed skin. Without needing to be told, she leaned forward to kiss then lick at me fervently, as if worshipping at some unholy altar.
I sighed in pleasure; she might only be here at the behest of her brother, but she was certainly throwing herself into the task. As she took me into her mouth, engulfing my cock in its wet heat, I took another sip of wine, stretching back in my seat to luxuriate in self-indulgent pleasure.
I had been with younger girls, prettier girls, firmer girls, but a more experienced woman brings sublime compensations. I stroked her hair and arched my hips forward to meet her. She tried to back off a little, but I took a handful of hair and drew her in, pressing more of my eager length into her luscious mouth. She struggled slightly at first, but managed to adjust herself, and even began to drag my boxers and pants down my legs, affording her more access to my body, her busy hands soon pleasing me in other ways.
I pride myself on being a strong man with a certain sexual stamina, and I was content for a longish while to simply lie back and enjoy this unexpectedly talented woman. But I was sure she had more to offer, and this would likely be my only chance to find out, since I was having her brother killed tomorrow.
I gave her a sharp tap on the top of the head. “Up.”
Freya (the more I used it, the less I thought it was actually her name, but no matter) pulled back, her eyes wide and nervously expectant.
“On the bed.”
She got up and went to sit on my bed.
“On all fours,” I instructed. I stood, pulling off my shirt as I went, and had to admit my legs felt a bit rubbery—the woman knew what she was doing.
By the time I reached the bed, I was as naked as she was. I took a moment to admire the glorious, broad cheeks of her ass, like a full moon before me, trembling slightly which only made them more appealing. She jumped slightly as I stroked my hand across the smooth flesh.
“Don’t be frightened.”
I had briefly considered the tight, wrinkled entrance of her anus, but she had treated me very well and, again, I was killing her brother the following day; why not be kind?
Kneeling on the bed behind her, I angled my sturdy member down to its target and thrust forward.
“Oh!” Hard to say if the word was born of shock or pleasure on her part, but I didn’t care much.