Further Musings from the Lair

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The Mage had been gone for weeks. She was attending a festival for the Lady on the Isle of Myst, where she had trained before pledging her service to the new Emperor. She insisted on traveling alone and the Emperor had been furious. Well, not exactly alone. She had her cats and a number of those dreaded stallions she raised. They were the oddest animals; too small to be as fast as they were, too slight to be as strong as they were, each one black as a starless sky and fierce as the wildcats with which they were raised. Some said Epona herself birthed them, nursing them on wind and later feeding them on fire and brimstone. Only the Mage could handle them. They were kept in a separate stable with the cats; no servant would dare go near, the Mage tended to all their needs herself.

As the Emperor stood by the window of the conference room, looking out over the fields before the castle gate, he saw the dogs bound towards the woods and then abruptly turn and make haste back to the gate, yelping and yipping, tales tucked between their legs. As his gaze returned to the wood, he saw he Mage break through the tree line, stallions and cats clustered around her, making quite a commotion to announce their arrival. She had a few bedraggled men in tow as well. Poor sods, he thought, they should have known better than to try and rob her or worse, take advantage of her person.

She dragged them at breakneck speed through the gate and to his guard, who was waiting to greet her. They spoke for a moment and he noticed his guard was able to pet the stallion she rode and the cats too seemed at ease and quite friendly. More than I get from them. His guard dragged the men to the holding cells and the Mage made her way toward her stables. The Emperor smiled to himself and chuckled under his breath, anticipating this evening’s reunion with his beautiful sorceress. He heard his name called in a rather exasperated tone and turned his attention back to the issues at hand.

Supper was excruciating. The Emperor had requested her presence, yet she was nowhere to be seen. A party of vassals had arrived from down country, and the obligatory festivities where at hand, but the Emperor was hard pressed to remain attentive. Where was his Mage? He scanned the room again; it would be just like her to be hiding and reveling in his impatience. He sat back in his chair and relaxed. He wouldn’t give her all she wanted, not yet. He scanned the room again, letting his eyes loose focus, as he did when on the hunt. See what is truly there not what you think is there; his father’s words rang through his head as if standing not two feet from his shoulder. They were with the Mage that day; of course she was just a girl then. The Old Emperor always took her on tracking forays; she had an uncanny ability to track and sight animals. She always bested the young prince and he resented it. But his father gently told him, “One day she will save your empire. I have seen it. It will be so.” And he remembered.

As he scanned the room in his casual manner, a shock of jet-black hair caught his eye. He felt a knot in his stomach as a sweat broke over his body. Poison? Enchantment? What is that Mage up to now? The feeling passed and he returned his focus to the black head of hair. Has she dyed her hair to fool me? Is she wrapped in glamour to excite me? Well, it’s working. He took a longer look at the woman under that shiny black mane. She was sweet and young, fresh and fair. She had demureness about her, but he could tell she put it on for court appearances; her eyes were far too alert as her mind strove to puzzle out the intricacies of his court. She was no flittering maid, but she was beautiful. Her hair was shiny black and flowing down her back, silvery satin ribbons braided here and there for accent. Her face was round and full and freckled; he liked the fact that she chose not to conceal them with powder. Her eyes were greenish-blue and they glittered in the torchlight. She wore a simple, elegant gown, all silvers and blues, a perfect compliment for her pale skin and dark hair. Although he knew he had exceeded the acceptable time for looking upon a lovely lady, he could not look away.

She was politely conversing with a soldier when she felt his gaze upon her. Her eyes fluttered lightly as she looked around to identify her admirer. When she saw it was the Emperor, she quickly flushed and looked away, but couldn’t help herself from looking back a moment later. He laughed softly and raised his glass to her beauty; she raised her head, smiled and did the same. Unheard of! He threw his head back and laughed and her boldness. She resumed her chat with the soldier and flirted enticingly for the Emperor’s entertainment.

He was quite caught up in the reverie when he heard a smooth, soft voice, whispering through his mind. Enchanting, was all it said. He came to rather abruptly and looked to his left to see his Mage sitting in her place, a few seats down from his, looking at the raven-haired beauty, as she ate her sup. He hadn’t even noticed her arrival. His guard sat topkapı escort beside her, in his customary seat, also eating and drinking and calling for his favorite tunes. The Mage caught his eye and smirked as she raised a brow in his direction. He slowly blinked as he casually turned back to his drink and his maid. She was gone. The soldier looked crushed, as was the Emperor himself, but as the soldier left the table, the Emperor noticed a glittering bobble at the place the maid had occupied. He called for a servant and asked them to retrieve it; a broche, silver swan in flight with a bright blue sapphire chip for its eye. Very nice, the voice intoned. You can see through my eyes now, too, he asked. No, she chided, I can see through your guard. He looked over and saw his guard was cavorting with the dancers and minstrels, much to everyone’s hilarity. That left a perfect line of sight between the Emperor and his Mage. He chuckled and discretely instructed the servant to find the Lady that lost the broche and bring her to his table at breakfast. Bold, she jibbed. He got up and left the hall.

He was determined not to call on the Mage that night. She kept him waiting too long at dinner and his mind was racing with thoughts of the mysterious woman with the glittering swan broche. It was very late, but he could find no peace. This would be a perfect night to call on his serving maids for a vigorous workout, but they were long gone; fodder for the Mage’s cat. Suddenly he was furious. He had expected more than this tenuous relationship with his Mage and he resented her aloofness and fierce independence. He was Emperor. She served him. How dare she cuff him to the bars of her animals’ cell and leave him hanging half the night. He was amused at first, but she began to weigh on his nerves. He raised himself from bed and dressed hastily, throwing a few lengths of rope and a couple of leg holds in a sack.

He made his way quietly to her chambers through the back halls seldom used by guests or servants. The hour was very late, but he was in a mood and not to be denied. Opening her door slowly and gently, he crept into her rooms and up to the side of her bed. As he peered over the mattress he found the bed still untouched. He quickly looked to the tapestry that hid the entrance to the lair and felt a rush of cool air. He quietly made his way down the steps to a landing above the chamber and waited in the shadows for his eyes to adjust.

A fire blazed in the hearth and torchlight bathed the room in an eerie glow. There was no sound from the cells that lined the walls. The cats must be in the stables with the stallions. So, she expects company, he mused. But as he looked to the middle of the room, he saw she was already engaged. His eyes widened. The Mage was clothed in a similar fashion to the night he found her in the maze; high, suede traveling boots, suede breeches, though much shorter than standard men’s breeches, much shorter, a cropped suede over-shirt. A dagger was bound to her left arm and its twin sat snuggly in a sheath round her thigh. She was bound to a chair; wrists tied behind her back, ankles tied to the chair legs, her thighs and arms bound to the seat and back. Her mouth was gagged with what looked like the scarf that signaled her as his Arch Mage. Her eyes were as yet unbound, and shown in the firelight; she looked furious.

Damn, he chuckled to himself, I would love to have seen that fight. Her ‘captor’ had yet to reveal himself, but the Emperor could hear him digging through some items on a table, just out of sight. The Mage rocked and thrashed in her binds.

“Careful, you’ll tip it over and what good will that do? You’ll just hit your head and make things worse for yourself. Now, save your strength for a real opportunity.”

My Guard? The Emperor’s mouth fell open, but he held back the gasp, so as not to reveal his position. Sly dog, what are you up to? As he came into view, the Emperor saw he was clothed in the battle dress of their most ruthless enemy, in the uniform of an interrogator. Uh Oh. What is he doing in that uniform? He’s been on the receiving end of that scene one too many times I think. The Emperor remembered the last time his guard was captured; he managed to escape, but not in time to save the former Emperor’s life. He dragged himself and the body for days and days, fighting predators, determined to give his Lord a proper burial on his own land. He shook that memory out of his head and leaned forward to ascertain if the Mage was in any real danger.

The Guard approached her slowly from behind and she stilled herself to listen and be ready. He stood behind her for quite a while, what seemed like an eternity. Finally she tried to whip herself around and tipped the chair, but he caught it, righted it and grabbed her by those beautiful sweat-soaked tresses. He pulled her head back as she tried to shake free and delivered a stunning blow to her jaw. No Mercy for a beautiful woman. The Emperor was about to intervene when the Guard spoke again.

“That tuzla escort was generous, girl. You won’t be treated so well by your true enemies. Now behave so we can get on with this, you know I hate doing this.” He smiled slyly at the Mage and she made some muffled comment into her gag, rolling her eyes and smirking. The Emperor settled back down to wait and watch.

It went on for quite a while. The Mage was incredibly resilient and courageous. The Guard was not quite as rough as one of theirs would be; nor was he easy on her by any means. After a while the emperor could see she was exhausted; his Guard noticed it as well and so began his real work. He approached her slowly and removed the dagger from her arm, tracing the tip up her arm, over her shoulder, up her neck and sticking it ever so slightly, into the soft flesh under her chin. She winced and tried to pull away as best she could, but most of her fight had been drained. She steeled herself for what must come next.

As he held the dagger to her neck he reached down with his other hand and grabbed at her shirt between her breasts, tearing it from her body in one quick, savage motion. The Mage gasped into her gag as her breasts tumbled free, glistening with sweat in the firelight. The Emperor found himself quite aroused despite his horror over her treatment. Curious, he thought, as he reached down to feel his thickening muscle. Just then the Mage seemed to sit up as if listening to something, but the Guard quickly regained her attention.

“Not too excited yet, pretty girl?” he chided, twisting her nipples. He picked up a bowl of ice- cold water, tossing it onto her sweaty skin, causing her to lunge forward on the chair. The dagger stuck in and she cried out, quickly pulling back to avoid its tip.

“Careful, pretty,” he warned, “the dagger bites.” She looked up at him with hateful eyes, renewed passion rising from within. She lifted her head proudly and held his gaze for the next round of abuse. He lapped the water from her breasts and slid his hand down her belly between her legs; they were spread apart by the legs of the chair, leaving her quite vulnerable. She rocked the chair in an attempt to shake him off balance, but he held her fast and fondled her sweetly, suckling her breasts and wearing down her resistance. She began to enjoy his attentions despite herself and found herself moving to the rhythm of his hand. The Emperor too was enjoying himself, although he wasn’t quite sure what to make of the fact that he did so as his Mage was apparently being taken against her will, or was she?

The dagger cut her shorts open. Looking down, she gasped as the First Guard unveiled her soft, wet snatch and began to pet her gently as he resumed his suckling of her breasts. She laid her head back moaning softly into the gag. They were facing the Emperor and he could see his Guard working his hand into her folds, see her wriggling in the chair, first to keep him out and them to suck him in deeper and deeper. He toyed with her desire, bringing her close to deeper penetration, then backing off and twisting her nipples with his teeth. Always a little pain followed what little pleasure she was granted, always she endured the pain, hoping to be granted a little more pleasure for her cooperation. They danced back and forth until she was over ripe and quite frustrated, begging through the gag for release. She pleaded and moaned, thrashed about and whimpered. He kept her going like that until he was sure she was compliant. Then, he put the dagger to her throat and removed her gag.

She looked up at him with grateful eyes, working her jaw muscles and trying to wet her parched tongue, ever careful of the dagger at her throat. He grabbed a wet rag from the table and squeezed cold water onto her lips and face and chin, purposely avoiding her begging mouth.

“Thirsty, pet?” he teased. “You’ll have to earn a drink, love and no sound from you. No spells or incantations, no pleas for food or water. Not a sound, or the dagger marks you for life. Understood?” She nodded her compliance, her eyes hazed by the heady endorphins flooding her system. With one hand on the dagger at her throat, he tipped her head back with the other and moved his bulging crotch toward her mouth. He wore leather breeches that laced in the front and bade her unlace them with her teeth. She does so willingly, seemingly enjoying every minute and quite well practiced.

The lacing was undone and laying in her lap; the Guard’s pants flapped open. He pulled her hair back with a sharp tug and pushed himself into her mouth. She fought him for a moment, but was hungry and wanted his cock. She tried to slow him down so she could pleasure him, but he was rough and insistent, thrusting into her mouth without regard, tugging her hair and neck with each push. Finally he pulled out and came on her face. Fire flashed through her eyes; the Emperor could see that she was irritated.

The Guard gave her a stinging slap across the face. “Don’t show emotion. Don’t show pendik escort them where they can get in. Don’t give them a door.” He smiled wickedly, “Enjoy yourself,” his laugh ringing through the cavern. She looked down, blinking. She wrestled with something. Her eyes regained focus as the dagger came into view, lying on her lap. A nasty little taunt.

“I can see you need a lesson, Lass,” he turned and walked toward a wheel hanging on the wall beneath the Emperor’s hiding spot. The Mage closed her eyes; she seemed to expand somehow, accessing some power deep within. The dagger moved slightly and then leapt into the air, heading straight for the Guard with astonishing speed and accuracy. He turned quickly and deflected the speeding projectile with the reflexes of a seasoned warrior. They both tossed their heads back laughing.

“You did it, love,” he cried.

“I did,” she beamed. “I did it!”

He was at the chair on his knees, his hands on her lap, beaming into her face. She was looking down at him radiantly, laughing merrily and wriggling in her bindings.

“What got you? The face shot or the slap directly following?” He was gently wiping her face clean with the wet rag.

“The slap, I admit, was infuriating. Don’t do that again.” She pursed her lips and would have wagged a finger at him if she were able.

He rubbed her thighs moving his hands to her hips, using his thumbs to massage between her legs. “Mmmmmm, Lady. You did very well. Your reward is at hand.”

“No,” she gasped, “Untie me, please,” she begged.”

He laughed. “You’ll devour me in seconds. Not a chance. I want you to enjoy this.”

He leaned down and nibbled her soft hair. She pushed up so hard, she took the chair off the ground. He slammed it back down and held her tight, teasing and biting her juicy cunt. She thrashed and moaned, whimpered and begged. He teased and teased and teased. She fought and fought to gain access to his mouth, but he denied her every opportunity. Finally, she quieted down; all but the trembling she couldn’t control. She closed her eyes and stilled her breath, a deep moaning purr issuing from her throat with each exhale.

“So, we have a visitor,” he purred. “My beast has arrived.” He chuckled and opened his hand to pet her with the flat of his palm. She bucked slightly against her binds and curled her lip as a playful snarl escaped her mouth. “Yes, pet,” he cooed, “We know what you like.”

Her eyes were nearly closed and fluttering lightly. Still purring, she reached out her mouth, looking into his eyes for a kiss. He responded immediately with a long, deep, passionate kiss, as he rubbed her other lips lightly with his hand. The Emperor could see lights exploding in her eyes. Her head was virtually crackling with energy. The Guard was spellbound by her primal passion; it called to his own with undeniable power. He pulled the dagger from her thigh sheath and cut her loose, first at the thighs, then the feet, her chest, but left her hands tied behind her back, kissing her all the while. He lifted her out of the chair as if she were a sleeping child, a cherished possession; she melted into his arms and into his kiss. Walking towards the bed, he climbed the few shallow steps to the cushions and laid her down, on her back, writhing and moaning.

The Emperor watched as his own passion rose. She was intoxicating, her rhythms, almost hypnotic. She was quite unaware of anything; the snake had unwound and she vibrated with its energy. The Guard leaned down on his knees and drew his hands down her body, holding them lightly over her skin, moving to her rhythm. She delighted in his touch and groaned her frustration at his teasing. She tried to pull him closer, but he refused. She was ready for entry, he knew, but he wanted her a bit more pliant first. She began to buck and groan.

“Please,” she begged, “please. No more. I need you inside me, to feel you inside me, Please.”

He grabbed her hips, raised her wet crotch to his mouth, and drank deeply, sucking and tonguing her inner folds. She howled with delight, her body rippling with orgasm. She tried to hold some back, wanting her first big blast to be from his deep, hard penetration, but he sucked it out of her with a passion so strong, she just melted into his face, gushing sweet juices down his chin and over her thighs.

He laughed as he sucked, slurping and gulping, lapping at her lips and thighs, heady with her scent. She was wild and far-gone, but a calm took her again and the deep moaning purr returned to her throat as she propped up on her elbows, gazing at him between her legs. He lifted his head as he sensed her desire and rolled her onto her stomach. Pulling her onto her knees, he lifted her so her back rested on his chest and he gently moved her hair from her neck before sinking his teeth in to hold her still. She gasped as she came again, eyes fluttering lightly, breathing ragged and irregular. Taking his thick shaft in one hand, just below his head, he used his other hand to part her lips as he poked the tip into her silky flesh. He held her still with his teeth as he forced himself in deep, her cries and moans ringing through the open room. Every thrust produced a growl from his throat, a grateful cry from her lips. His free hand held her ribcage, just under her breasts and kept her from moving.

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