Chapter 10

Nick continued his Tale that evening, just after transforming into a new skin:

Whatever Nick expects seeing his blonde angel, laughter seems the most unlikely. And yet she laughs.

“That’s unexpected,” the Germanic beauty grins before embracing her grandfather.

“What’s unexpected?” Nick asks after the long embrace.

“You don’t look Slavic.”

“I don’t?”

“Let’s feast. You must be starved, as am I. I brought a deceiver against his own people for our feast.”

“Please,” Nick responds, confused. After introducing her to two sons and their mates and Matta, his remaining companion and mother to the sons, they walk off to a place far enough from his entourage to not be seen, and they chow down on corrupt flesh.

“You look like the people I left to come here,” Betty finally tells him. “A mix of the dark haired Celts and the lighter, ones, more like mine. Tall and slim, with deep-set eyes, you look like a wizard.”

“Interesting. Why do you think that would be?”

“These are primitive people, despite your influence. Strong warriors. They need to be. They have fought off many invaders, and moved west as invaders themselves and to seek better lands to defend. It’s this continuous warfare that has kept them primitive I think. Not a chance to settle down and think.”

“Perhaps Xo steering me east of China changed my intention,” Nick contemplates. “But I actually thought this would be my next place to influence. A strong and unexpected place to strike unexpectedly against Simon’s presence in Europe. And a protected place to gain an independent civilization.”

“I can see that. But I guess it’s not quite ready.”

“So it seems. Inevitably we’ll head to your favorite place, but I think I’ll stay here for a while.”

“More minions?”

“Yes, and I want to establish trade with the peoples to the west. My companion and my sons will help with that. Humanize a strange race. Make them as equals as trading partners at least. I’m sure bias will always exist.”

“Probably. White people can be especially xenophobic. And rather aggressive about it.”

“Every race has that aspect, but I think you’re right.”

Betty smirks, with a mischievous spark in her eyes. “I have someone I want you to meet. A person of importance, for you and for your intentions. Your appearance will be a surprise, I think, but not necessarily an unpleasant one.”

“You’re deliberately guarding against revealing her.”

“You guessed she’s a woman.”

“Of course she’s a woman. Young I imagine. And feisty.”

“Of course.”

“And you’re guarding her vision of me it seems. She must be a minion.”

“As strong as they come.”

“Interesting.”

Betty laughs. “You sound so wizardly when you say that.”

As long as it has taken to reach the place where Nick transforms, it takes twice as long, over a month, before they arrive at the central village of this Slavic kingdom. The travel reminds him of his journeys in Southern Europe centuries before. They encounter several hamlets, some with links of blood to Nick, so some places welcome this strange entourage more than others. At the same time, it’s different. None of the communities are as large as any he encountered then. And there’s a diversity in ethnic origin, from Slav to Germanic to even people with Asian aspects and southern and southwestern European darkness. Though anything but a homogeneous mix, the smallness of these hamlets creates a reluctant trade between them. But the diversity also makes it clear how many groups have interest in the area, telling of the fragile hold the Slav’s have over it.

The trip becomes longer because of several stops, for trading both physical items and stories, and for the impregnation of women. The number of minions along the way makes the last of these things fairly frequent. And though welcomed more where minions have influence, none of the hamlets really reject their presence. Mostly because their presence, except for the Germanic Betty, whose overwhelming beauty trumps any misgivings she might get, none of the entourage have any suggestion of a familiar enemy. Even the Asiatic hamlets have a caucasion mix, which makes them look different from Chatta and her sons (though Chatta, and the people Nick just left, actually look more Inuit than traditionally Asian).

Finally approaching the central village, they find themselves greeted by a group of warriors, the one at their center smaller and somehow no less intimidating. In full leather and furs, appropriate to the cool weather, and their faces covered in a visor reminding of some savage raptor causes the effect.

“Betty,” the small warrior walks before the angel.

“Neesha,” Betty bows.

“None of that, Betty. You confuse your companions. Is this... ?” she speaks Russian, which Nick understands via minions.

“Nick.”

“Not what I expected.”

“No.”

“Me either,” Nick smiles. He can see a wide smile beneath the woman’s mask.

“I like it. Father won’t. Fuck him.”

The three laugh. “Fuck the king?” says Nick.

“He’s my father. I can say it. Never do it of course. As if I would ever want to. I suggest you don’t, though, say it that is. I suppose you can fuck him if you want.”

“He would like that?”

“He likes his pleasure,” the young warrior shrugs. “But I’d rather you didn’t.”

“As you wish, Princess.”

“Don’t disappoint me.”

“Have I already?”

“Yes.”

“You certainly haven’t.”

“Good. I have heard of your people,” she addresses Matta.

“My companion and our sons,” Nick replies.

“I don’t think she likes me,” Matta says in her language.

“She plans to replace you.”

“Then she doesn’t understand you.”

“Apparently not.”

“But I think she’s cute.”

“Me too, but I don’t think we should tell her that.”

My companion laughs. “Probably not.”

“Do I want to hear what she said?” asks the girl warrior.

“Probably not,” Nick chuckles, “but nothing really derisive. I do want you two on good terms, because I hope to do trading with her people.”

“We have before, a long time ago.”

“More like capturing and enslaving from what I hear.”

“Probably. Must have been too much trouble.”

“Especially when they no longer trusted you. They are good hunters.”

“So you plan on smoothing things for both sides.”

“They do have the finest furs in these climes.”

The princess simply smiles and nods. “Come,” she finally says.

“I will run ahead and explain things,” Betty suggests.

“No,” the princess shifts her smile to the mischievous. “I want to surprise Daddy.”

They arrive at the largest building in the city: tallest at two stories, widest, and definitely longest. Viewed from centuries later, it looks like an extremely large barn. On the farthest side from where Nick and his entourage enter, huts attach to it like sucking barnacles, not all that more advanced than the huts of the head village Nick has left. But different in the way structures are different here. They look transplanted here from a western place, while in the village just left, the structures seem to resemble the nature around them. Everything has an invader look to it here.

After abandoning their belongings to servants, Nick and entourage parade through the large building, murmurs surrounding them, even above them where the least well-to-do seem to be allowed to participate in the feast, ironically looking down on them.

At last Nick encounters a large man, as large as any man he has met. Not in the least fat, though. A prized warrior for any people, even at middle age. A warrior king.

“Who is this?” the man bellows.

“This is Nick, Daddy!”

“Nick?”

“Yes,” Nick replies. “And I’m as surprised as you.”

A great belly laugh emerges from the large man. When it finally ends, he gestures to empty seats at his table. While Nick and entourage sit, leaving a chair beside the king conspicuously empty, the king asks “What sort of man are you?”

He smiles widely at the voice giving answer. “It seems he’s of the place I came from before I came here,” Betty explains. The two embrace and Betty takes that empty seat.

“Then you are destined for that place,” the king says. “I wish you to remain here for a time.”

“I will grant your wish,” Nick grins. “And your daughter’s.”

“You understand my need then,” the king says.

“The princess is the only issue to survive birth,” Nick nods. “And you need a male heir.”

Nick sees the sadness in the big man’s eyes when the king explains, “Both mother and child never survive birth. Only the smallest baby survived, and the mother didn’t.”

“Thus the difference in stature between you and your daughter,” Nick nods.

“Don’t let her diminutive size fool you,” the king grins.

“I can tell she’s as large as you in character,” Nick agrees.

“Larger,” says the princess, bringing laughter.

“And Betty,” the king murmurs.

“I will remain as well, lover,” Betty grins.

“I’d rather eat you than this,” he whispers to her, holding up a shank of leg.

“Me too,” says Betty, grabbing his long, thick cock beneath cloth. They linger on a kiss, which gets applause from the many underlings attending the feast.

“She’s the only woman he feels safe fucking,” the princess informs Nick quietly.

“I know,” Nick responds. “Lucky she’s gorgeous and amazing. But I’m surprised you know.”

“In a way, it’s just the two of us,” the princess explains. “We discuss everything. He knows exactly how much I have looked forward to your arrival. And how long.”

“How many summers since you thought of such things?”

“You mean since I craved a good fuck? Five.”

“Really?”

“You thought I was barely a woman. You’ll find out soon how much of a woman I am.”

“Can’t wait.”

“Me either.”

Both royals reveal their impatience, leaving the feast as soon as possible. The princess stops beside Matta and whispers, “Come join us later if you want.”

“Are you sure?”

“You can show me what he likes. And I can show you what I like.”

“You like women, too?”

“Who else could I trust to sate my horniness?”

In the surprisingly small hut, the princess removes her clothing, revealing how restricting they have been. Full breasts appear, looking even larger on her small frame. Curving to a small, tight abdomen, the curve outward to hips isn’t nearly as extreme, but enough to carry a full, sexy butt, not nearly matching her breasts in size but substantial nevertheless. She lies down and spread her small legs wide. “Fuck me,” she murmurs.

“I should make you ready.”

“I have been ready for years. Feel.”

His finger presses into her slit and finds wetness. He strips quickly and climbs between her raised knees. His long, narrow cock gets held by her small yet stong hands and led to her hungry cunt. He pushes it into slick tightness and keeps pushing. Nothing interferes with it until a cervix stops him with an inch or so to spare.

“Yes, Nick,” she grins, though a tight one from the intensity of being filled like never before, and with something much hotter and livelier than she has ever known. “I require my servants to pleasure me. I reject them if they don’t.”

He stops her from pushing him further in. “No, Princess. You may have had something to model my cock, but nothing has gone so deep.”

“Nor so wide,” she moans, as he withdraws, sliding against places she has never known to create such pleasure, and then pushes deep again. “Faster.”

“Not this time, Princess. I have accepted your command to fuck you before getting you ready, discovering it wasn’t necessary. But this time, this first fuck, I’m in charge.”

“Yes,” she moans when his cock rubs her perfectly. He quietly laughs at the ambiguity of the word. Her eyes widen, and she readies to object to his amusement. Instead his mouth finds hers, and the kiss makes her forget everything except it and the amazing movement of his cock.

His tongue enters just as his cock had. But she has an organ, similar if smaller in size to greet it. The tangle of tongues, like hand to hand combat, contains its own thrill, or magnifies the thrill his cock provides her cunt. And fingers pressing her nipples brings further pleasure. Pleasure that commingles and expands. Somewhere in her abdomen, it centers, and spreads to places throughout her torso and beyond. To places feeding the pleasure, like her nipple, mouth and cunt. Like ripples meeting coastline and causing a ripple back to the center. Building. Becoming waves. Shorter between them but ever higher, as the gentle fuck becomes something altogether different. Becomes hard and fast. And even the pinching of nipple becomes harsher, bordering on pain but becoming that much more pleasurable because of it. And the tongue no longer needs to feed the stormy seas of her pleasure. Instead she needs it clear, free to bring deep breaths inside her.

It ends as she thought it should have begun, but she understands. She understands the climb to ecstasy needs the widest rungs first, narrowing while reaching the pinnacle, the peak, the last, narrowest rung, too small to negotiate, there again at her abdomen, that last step. She takes it, but it no longer exists. And then it becomes everywhere, exploding everywhere, absolute pleasure. And one last thing, one more addition to the explosion, appropriately hot, washes the center spot energetically. Great bouts of flaming liquid. Which she understands somehow despite her mind enveloped in bliss. It adds joy to it. The purpose fulfilled. Seed to fill her womb with child, with the next king.

“Nick!” she yells before bliss takes hold completely and consciousness ends.

“Hey,” she hears, and she opens her eyes. A lovely, older, exotic woman smiles.

“Hi,” she smiles back and accepts the woman’s brief kiss. “Ooh,” she moans, looking down and seeing Nick’s head between her thighs. He expertly laps at her pussy.

“What’s this?” Matta asks her, showing her the strap on device bearing a wooden phallus, a resin hardened on it to keep it from splintering.