A Marq's Woman
Copyright© 2008 by Tentativeness
Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 1 - This story takes place in an imaginary world that's almost nothing like ours. You can expect war between two planets, magic, fantasy animals and creatures, homosexual love and falling for the enemy. Follow young Sisters, Kistle and Ginny, as they break free from their Saintly sisterhood practices and experience life for the first time.
Lillian K. Rockmore
His Majesty, King Hermissle Jisisle Ci Yelmbuerg the seventeenth, was not happy.
Strange men were surrounding his lands; strange, dangerous men were surrounding his lands. He knew not how they had managed to discover his well-hidden planet of Kierania, but they had. And now, they stood with their swords drawn, waiting for him to refuse their request so that they would have an excuse to take over the whole of his lands.
He hated them, these Marqations who had been rumoured to have already conquered Lismus, a star in the east. They had a battalion of fighters at their disposal; they had weapons made of gold just lusting to be wielded.
Jisisle sighed. His men would never be able to take them on, should it be that the Marqs decided to attack. His army was too weak, his soldiers untrained and feeble compared to the Marq's army.
With resignation etching seams on his forehead, he ordered their leader to enter.
The heel of his boots echoed hollowly in the silent halls as Rade strode towards the reclining king. His countenance was steely, mirroring his resolve in taking Kierania under the Marqation name. The Marq King, Dominique Fei Rysle, had entrusted the task of conquering Kierania in Rade's hands and Rade would never break his King's trust.
"Have you decided upon your lands' fate, sir?" Rade questioned brusquely, not bothering to address the lump of a man by his given title. Jisisle was a sluggish ruler, one who cared more about how many women there were in his harem than how many men were in his army. It was a miracle in itself that the Ci Yelmbuerg Empire had lasted sixteen centuries.
Disregarding Rade's question, the old reptile laid there, his eyes scanning the ceiling, saying nothing.
"You do know the consequences of your silence, sir."
After a heartbeat, the fat seal turned, causing the cushioned settee beneath him to creak from the shifting of his immense weight.
"How much do you want?" Jisisle asked irritably.
"You know bloody well how much we want. We want the eastern and southern parts of Kierania, complete with the Cloud Kingdoms they entail."
The man snorted and struggled to his feet.
"Very well. If I do give you this land, will you leave the rest of Kierania alone?" he asked, summoning one of the servants with a mere flick of his sausage-like fingers.
"It would appease us," Rade said, his steely black eyes never wavering from the older man's shrewd brown ones.
"But will you leave the western and northern parts of Kierania alone, boy?" Jisisle persisted.
Rade could not answer him without orders from his superiors. Thus, he replied nonchalantly, "For now."
Oh Goddess, they were coming!
It had been three days since the Cloud Kingdoms had become a part of the Marq's colony. It had come as such a shock to all Kieranians, for they had thought that their mighty king would protect them from any harm that came their way. And rumours that the king had given up the rights to his lands without any argument, fueled the anger of many in the kingdoms.
Kistle was one of those who were enraged. She did not understand how her king could betray their trust in naught but a minute. The Kieranians had been so loyal to his family for more than sixteen centuries now! How dare the rat...
"Sister Kistle, are you ready? We have to leave soon. Mother just received news that the Marqs are nearing our quarters," Sister Ginny said, coming up behind Kistle, nibbling on her bottom lip anxiously.
"What?" Kistle snapped, momentarily incensed by her thoughts. Then, realizing her sinful short-tempered error, she sent up a quick prayer to the ever-forgiving Goddess.
"Dear me. We have to hurry then. Are our moths ready yet?" Kistle asked, reaching out for the younger girls' hands, clasping them in her own. As Ginny nodded, both ladies immediately made their way downstairs to where the rest of the nuns awaited.
The moths sat on their bellies, with their dull, brown wings prominently displayed in the air. Kistle sought out the tamest one of all — Mirille -- and seated herself on the insect's sturdy body. Mirille's large wings cocooned Kistle from being detected by any irreligious snakes and protected her from harsh winds. She cooed to the creature, stroking the length of its wings and heard its soft purr of satisfaction in return.
"We must hurry, girls. I think they are already here," Mother Agnetta said, her voice naught but a low whisper. The other Sisters hastened to get to their moths.
Just then, a loud explosion was heard from the very back of the room.
Every body stilled.
Shock mirrored on the faces of each woman as men filed into the Goddess's sanctuary. There were fifty of them, maybe more. Kistle breath wheezed out of her lungs as she took in their size.
Dear Goddess in the Lakes, they were huge. Bigger than any man she'd ever seen. Kieranian men were considerably large, but these giants dwarfed them aplenty! Their bodies were covered with a thick layer of mail and helms covered half their faces, giving them a fearsome appearance. Mere men they might be, but they scared the ladies sevenfold!
As Kistle watched, a single man detached himself from the mass and stepped to the front. He was, like the rest, wearing black breeches with the crest of the Marqs sewn onto his thighs. However, unlike the rest, he had an aura of power and authority about him; every man in the room hushed as he took his place in front of them. His lean fingers threaded through his dark hair as he rid himself of his helm, passing the steely weight to a man behind him. He looked extremely formidable, especially when a malicious smile curled his upper lip.
She shuddered when his voice penetrated the silence.
"Well, well, well. What do we have here?"
The men behind him snickered.
Kistle could feel a strange foreboding grip her. She knew, all of a sudden, that these men would bring harm to the Goddess's chapel. They were Marqs, and therefore, only prayed to male gods; they did not believe in dominance of the female species. Kieranians, on the other hand, looked up to the female race, seeking guidance and solace in prayers to the Goddess. The Marqs held little respect for the Kieranians belief, she knew, and that knowledge made her heart tighten in fearful premonition.
"Running away, Sisters?" the dark man continued.
Kistle swallowed painfully, a need to flee his presence making the blood spurt hotly in her veins; she knew he would bring the chapel naught but doom.
If she could just reach Mirille's reins, she might be able to make it out of here and get help from the quarter guards. She inched closer to the insect's head, trying desperately not to be noticed. Please Goddess, cast a screen over me as I try to escape the presence of these men. Your loyal servants are in danger, Goddess. Please, help us ... Just a little closer. Please, dear Goddess...
She gasped as footsteps sounded behind her. Whirling around, she had no chance to defend herself as she was hauled up into brawny arms.
It was him!
A scream of pure fear filled her throat as she struggled against him, her small fists flailing, her legs lashing out at him from beneath the voluminous hem of her skirts. Even as she fought him, he held her effortlessly in the air as though she weighed nothing more than a feather, his arms never working to keep her aloft.
She never had a man touch her before; her own father had died before she'd been born. And as his rough-palmed hands reached out to tilt her chin back to meet his eyes, she was glad that she'd been spared from the bruising intensity of it her whole life. His fingers lingered under her chin, stroking the tender, caramel-coloured flesh as his black eyes bore into hers.
His eyes. Dear, dear. She had seen them before. But where?
She struggled to breathe as one of his large palms pulled back the hood of her nun's habit so that her glorious golden hair was exposed to the men. Shame like none other filled her, for she knew that she had just breached one of the vital codes of serving the Goddess. To be a servant, no man must ever glimpse her tresses after she had reached maidenhood. The sisters around her gasped, fueling the disgrace in Kistle. How could this lout embarrass her like this?
Tears pricked the back of her eyelids as her small hands reached back in an attempt to shield her hair from his gaze. Whimpers escaped her throat when his arm circled her back and held her to his hard chest. She didn't want him to touch her, didn't want him to shame her in front of all these people who were watching her intently. Kistle became a hellion in his hands, shrill squeals escaping her as her punches found his shoulders and torso.
If the woman didn't stop wriggling against him like that, Rade thought, he might end up taking her on the floor in front of all his men. It would serve her and her comrades right for trying to escape the dominance of his people. But as he looked down into her violet eyes and her futile attempts at escaping him, an amused smile played on his lips. Damn if she wasn't an exotic nymph. He knew that she would be a spitfire in bed — a theory that he would have liked to see confirmed very soon.
He had no qualms in taking a woman of cloth to bed. In fact, the idea was vaguely arousing. She would fight him, he knew, and the thought made him stir in his breeches. He recognized that it was a disrespect to the Goddess that she worshipped — to take her to bed - but he most definitely couldn't have cared less.
Shaking his head to distract himself from his arousal, he turned to the rest of his men. The woman was now secured at his side, her punches on his shoulder unnoticeable in their pressure.
"What say you, men?" he addressed the crowd, "Shall we teach these Sisters a lesson? I think they would make exquisite Marq love slaves, if this one in my arms is any indication."
A hoot of appreciative laughter erupted from the mass. Then, the dark figure of Rade's first-in-command stepped forward, his mahogany skin glowing in the candle light.
"May I have the first pick, my lord?" Tyson asked, his white teeth flashing brightly.
"You may, Ty," Rade said, on a sharply indrawn breath. The little woman by his side had her crotch against nestled against his waistline, her knees digging into his waist and back. She was trying to get close enough to bite his ear. And if they weren't in front of so many people, he would have let her do it gladly — only if he could bite her back. None but the Spirits knew how tortured he was at that moment, as she bucked and moved her sex so tantalizingly and gullibly against him.
Kistle watched as the black giant who'd been addressed as Ty stepped forward and cupped Ginny in his arms. Shock, fear and anger besieged Kistle at once. How dare he touch her friend! The poor girl was screaming in fear! But as Kistle watched, the giant leaned down to whisper a few words in Ginny's ear and the girl, almost immediately grew silent. Nothing could've blown the wind out of Kistle's sails more. She fell forward against the large man that held her, her mouth slightly parted. What had the giant done to Ginny? Had he put a spell on her?
"The rest are yours, my loyal men. Enjoy them while they last," Rade declared.
The throng of men parted as he passed, making his way toward the back of the quarters with his prize. The woman was still in his arms now-- from shock, he knew, at how well Ty had handled the young girl. He smiled to himself, adjusting her slight weight against him more comfortably, his feet hastening towards his airhorse. He was not sure if he would enlighten her about Ty's situation, but one thing was for sure: he was getting her sweet little body into bed and slaking his lust for her at first chance.
Ginny and Tyson
Ginny felt Tyson's hard cock pressing against the contours of her back.
Shocked by his state of arousal, she whirled around, her nun's habit flapping about her, stirring the mild layer of dust in the private chamber.
"What are you doing, Tyson? Why are you here?" she questioned, separating herself from him. She was confused and distraught. Why had he come back after all these years? She had thought that she'd forgotten him wholly, buried every evidence of the hold he had on her heart when she'd enrolled herself in the chapel. But now, she knew that she had merely persuaded her mind to forget him — her heart still remembered the gentleness of his touch, the love in his words.
"I am with the man I serve, Ginny. Half of Kierania is ours now. Just as your people are ours now," Tyson said, wishing that he could replace the befuddled frown on her face with a smile. She was such a beautiful little nut-head; he wanted to run his fingers through her abundant brown hair, smell her skin, taste her lips. It had been nearly eight years since he'd last seen her.
"How can you speak like that, Ty? You belong here; you were born here!" Ginny's hands fidgeted nervously as she nearly shouted the words. Her heart was thudding against her chest, tattooing a steady pace in her breast. Goddess, had it been eight years since she'd last seen him? He looked devastatingly handsome to her, with his dark skin and grey eyes.
"I serve the Marqs now. I am loyal only to them." His voice was steely, showing her how true his loyalty to the Marqanians was.
"I find it difficult to comprehend how you can do that, arhan."
"Do not call me by that name, Ginny! I am not your brother. Your mother was merely my father's second wife. You are not of my blood. There is a difference."
"There is no difference," she insisted petulantly, "It is a sin not to address you as arhan."
She was so adorable, Ty thought, when she thrust her chin upwards like that. He gazed down at her, his features softening. He'd wanted this woman for more years than he could count — ever since he'd turned into a man. There'd been a few women in his bed after the time that he'd left her, but even then, none had the effect that she had on him.
He felt his cock begin to stir and harden anew. It was impossible not to think of taking her tonight when she was so near, her scent enfolding him in its sweetness. He was hard pressed to bear her back against her wall and rut on her like an animal. But he knew that he would take considerable care with Ginny, his shaz'ra, his dove, so as not to hurt her while he took her to heaven.
His hands reached out and clasped her shoulders, pulling her to him with one quick tug. She landed against his chest with a thud, her mouth parting on a gasp. His lips immediately covered hers, the sight of her parted pink lips pushing him beyond control.
She fought him. That thought burned holes of pain in his heart. Granted, she was a nun now, but he cared little of that fact. She had been his source of desire for a long time and he intended to find his release in her body tonight. Her fists pounded against his broad chest, her nails scraping against his skin, making an ache tear through his body. How could she deny the desire between them?
Ginny had to fight the desire that rose like a colossal wave within her. His lips were wreaking havoc on her senses, sparking a bonfire between her legs. She would not succumb to him. She would not! It was sacrilegious!
Tearing her mouth from his, she cried, "Arhan, no! Please!"
Anger bubbled up inside him. His grip on her shoulders became brutal as he gazed into her eyes, his need for her greatly evident.
"Don't you want this, Ginny? You wanted me eight years ago," he gritted out.
"Eight years is a long time, arhan. I'd almost forgotten you," she lied breathlessly.
He sighed. The nymph had never been able to lie to him.
"Little liar," he chided quietly. Ginny gasped.
His thumbs traced a path down her arms to her breasts, stroking the sides of them through the cloth. Ginny swatted at his hands, wanting him to let go of her. She knew that if he touched her again, she wouldn't be able to control her reaction to him.
"Why do you fight me, shaz'ra?" he queried sadly.
"I cannot do this, arhan."
Her calling him brother infuriated him.
"You can, Ginny. And you will." Then he added cruelly, "You don't have a choice."
Ginny's eyes widened with comprehension. Surely, he wouldn't!
"Yes, Ginny, I would." His arms tightened around her as he crushed her small body to his. "You will take me willingly, or I will force you. In the state I am in right now, it does not matter to me. But I'm sure it will to you."
His words made her breath catch. He made it seem as though she had no other way out of his situation. Which, in fact, she did not have. Ginny looked up at the man that she'd loved for half her life, her vision blurring with tears. He was her arhan, and would always be her arhan.
No, he wouldn't have to force her; she knew how it would break his heart if he had to. And the last thing she wanted to do was cause him pain. She loved him too much to even think of that prospect.
Her arms slipped willingly around his waist as she hugged him close, her one sign of acceptance.
She wanted him. The ecstasy of that thought roared through his veins like a storm. He took her mouth again, and realized that even after eight years apart, she still tasted as sweet, as innocent as dew drops in the morning sun. He enjoyed her mouth thoroughly, his tongue sweeping in to swirl against her own, creating a friction that had her trembling against him. He sighed his pleasure against her lips.
Slipping the hood of the habit away from her head, he entangled his fingers into her copper-coloured hair. She purred pleasurably under his administrations, her back arching against him, pressing the globes of her breasts into his chest.
She had never been able to deny him. Memories of a stolen kiss drifted to her dazed mind as his tongue sought entrance to her mouth. He had kissed her like this the day before he had left her, riding off to a foreign land at the age of nineteen. She had been so worried for his safety and yet, angry at him for leaving her, even though nothing could have come out of their relationship. In the eyes of the society, they were siblings. But, dear Goddess, she loved him so much as a man.
Her hands went around his neck as she melted against him, his touch on her scalp undeniably sinful in its nature. His fingers fumbled over her habit, looking for buttons to undo, but finding none. Frustrated, he tore his lips from hers and leaned down to unstrap the knife from his boot. Ginny held very still as the blade sliced through the starched cloth, rending it into two. The blade clamoured to floor as his hands slipped through the cut, gliding over downy soft skin. He watched as her eyes slid close, her skin heating up beneath his touch.
"Ginny, shaz'ra. What you do to me," he whispered against her ear as his hands tore the rest of the habit away so that it pooled at her feet. She shivered against him as the cool air of the room touched her body, igniting her senses. She held on to him as his hands smoothed over her back to cup her chubby bottom, kneading its softness. Never had she felt a wickedness such as this. It made her ache and want — for what, she did not know. All she knew was that it was only Ty who could give it to her.
He went slowly for her, giving himself time to seduce her into compliance. And when she finally softened into acquiescence under his touch, he took her to his bed.
That night, both lovers took one another beyond pleasure; they took each other to heaven.
Word-Meanings: Arhan — brother
: Shaz'ra — my dove
Pronunciation: Kistle - Kissel