The Concubine (3 page)

“This is, Lealin. Those of you residing within the palace walls know that she is a concubine, not only a concubine, but my Favorite. This collar around her neck denotes her as my property and someone has made the unwise decision to touch her.” Your fingers skim over my face, through my hair, caressing my lips.
“She is lovely is she not?” The silence in the room is deafening as you address Lucian, who wisely maintains his position on the floor, head bowed low.
“Look at her, Lucian.” You say with deadly calm. “It is almost sinful how tempting she looks, is it not?” Your words wound me. I stand before you. My back to your chest, your left arm comes around my waist while you play carelessly with the ties of my robes.
“Yes your, Majesty.”
“Have you fucked her Lord Valancette, in my absence? Have you felt her long legs wrapped around your waist? Begging you to go deeper? Pleading for you to go harder? Have you sampled the delights of her mouth? She has such a beautiful mouth. These lips and the ones between her thighs can drive a man to distraction.” Your fingers skim over my trembling lips, parting the wet flesh. 
“Have these lips curled around your rod and sucked you of your release? Have you kissed these succulent lips? Have you…“ The sting of my tears prick my eyes. I can feel them welling, just wanting to leak. 
“Marik…,” The voice is hard, yet pleading. I can feel you turning to look at her.
“Ah, my new wife is displeased. I had forgotten we were in the presence of delicate ears, my apologies dear wife.” Nothing about you conveyed the slightest bit of remorse in that moment.
“Lord Valancette, your presence here is only tolerated because of my councilors urge me for peace. I do not like you and like less of the ideals you stand for. Violate my rules again and I will not be so tolerant. Do we understand each other?”
“Perfectly, Majesty.” 
“Most excellent, please continue with your dinner.” You lift your goblet in a toast.

And then shove me away from you.
“Take her to my rooms.” You say without a second thought.

***

Your presence sings through my being even before you appear. I listen close as you exchange words with the guards at the door and too soon you are there. You say nothing as you enter yet the rigidness of your stance reverberates. I am where you want me to be, completely at your mercy, my chains tethered around one of the black posters of the bedframe. Silence is a friend I keep in that singular moment. With head low in obeisance, my heart races incessantly in the caverns of my chest I await your punishment. The seconds draw out like a humid noon day while the weight of your fury bears down upon me.
 

“Marik…”
“Silence.” The command is quiet from your lips. The deadly calm working further to unnerve me.

Your hand upon my cheek startles me for but a second in its tenderness and I can’t help but lean into the touch. Your warmth seeps into my pores. Your scent fills my very senses. My eyes fall shut and I sigh, one of simple bliss. Oh how I’ve missed you. Your thumb sweeps at my bottom lip, seducing the wet flesh to part. My mouth falls open and you slip your index between my trembling lips. My inner whore rises to the surface, ever eager to please her king. My lips close around your finger, my tongue warm and craving circles and licks, sucks and laves, imagining another appendage, thicker, longer and much more veined in its place. Your groan echoes through my lust fogged mind and I inwardly smile. I believe, my king, that you are imagining the same.
“Enough.” You say huskily, drawing your fingers from my mouth.
“The encounter with Valancette will not happen again.” You love throwing out orders. 
“How was I to know? I was lonely a-and I needed comfort. He was there and you weren’t.” Just to spite you, just to make you feel an ounce of the pain coursing through my veins, I whisper those horrible words, words I know you would hate.
You reaction is instant. The crack of your hand upon my cheek does not hurt more than the ache settling into my chest. I have not felt the blow of a master in so long. I have had many firsts with you, and this it seems is a first I will add to my endless memories of you. You have never struck me, in anger or otherwise. I do not mean to cry, I do not! But the tears come and like rivulets pour down my face.

But then you’re there. On your knees before me, my face between your hands, your forehead against mine, you kiss me hard, punishment and penance.
“God! Lealin… please…forgive me…forgive me. Can you not see…my jealousy…my anger I am blinded by it…stupid with it! Forgive me, my own.” Your kisses are everywhere, you gather me close and I can feel the thunderous echoes of you heart. “I cannot bear the thought of another’s touch upon you. I will kill him…fist my hand through him and rip out his entrails...I swear…I swear…” The fervency of your words brings me utter delight. Cry for me Marik, feel what I have felt for years. Oh my love, how sweet your words are to my ears. Jealous? Angry? On my behalf?
“Foolish, foolish, king…,” your hands fist through my hair, your lips are devouring my own, bending me to your will, to your lust. You push me against the dark post, my arms wrap around it, holding on for dear life as you discard clothes and cloths. Your thighs spread my own, wider, your cock weeping and ready. And then you’re in me, thick and full, throbbing and veined, sweetly blunt against that spot. That spot that had me praying your name, moaning ‘God’. You are my God Marik, and I clawed my way to your heaven. 

You’re savage in claiming me but I am if not fervent in this animalistic glee that imprisons us both. We rut on the floor, you above me as I take to my hands and knees, your grip digging sweetly into my flesh leaving bruises, marks, your imprint. You penetrate the very core of me, so deep, so hard, so fast.

“Mine,” You growl against my ear, your hand gripping my hair so that my head is tilted back, you withdraw to the very inch and draw me back with a brutal tug, filling me so deliciously once more. “To whom do you belong, Lea?” you cover me better than my own skin, your sweat stained chest against back, your harsh breaths at my nape.

I moan piteously when you stop suddenly. “Marik…” You give another tug of my hair, the action jostling my entire body. “Please…” I am at your mercy.

“Say it.” You rasp harshly, your teeth grazing along my flesh bearing down slightly to leave another mark.

“You.”

“And who else is allowed to fuck you?”

“No one else, my king… only you.”

“That’s right, pet, never allow another to trespass on my property. Every single inch of you belongs to me and I will kill any who dares to take what is mine.” You rise then and grip my buttocks only to drive forward once again burying yourself to the hilt. Your laboring grunts and my whimpering moans ring harmoniously throughout the room, the sound of slapping flesh an accompaniment to the dance as old as time itself.

You bury your essence so deep within me and I swear I can taste it. 
 

***

“I’ve missed you,” I mutter against your neck while your fingers slowly dance across my hip bone. I have missed you, but I don’t think you will ever know how much.

You remain silent, your breath, even and warm against the side of my face.
“It seems almost impossible for me to put into words what not having you beside me did to me. Almost like a crippled man without a crutch to hold him up.” It is not a confession of undying love, but you have not the slightest inkling what those words will ever mean.

“How is your new wife?” my voice is laced with tears.
“Much more amiable than Krea, although she can be rather fierce when incensed.  She’s quite intelligent, with a ready wit I’ve come to admire. Her tongue can cut a man to size in seconds.” The admiration in your voice is impossible to miss and I am left to wonder whether if she will be the one to make you forget me. She has accomplished the feat so effortlessly it these last weeks. 
“She sounds lovely.”
“I think you will like her, she is not at all like, Krea;” This draws a reluctant smile to my lips. Thank god for small favors. At least you weren’t blind to your first wife’s cruelty. 
“Kivar has told me about your art.” You say into the silence.
“It’s nothing, just sketches…” I murmur sleepily, my eyes drifting. I feel you shift from beneath me, and then your lips are on me, your tongue laving, your teeth scraping and nipping. 
“You’ll have to show me sometimes…” your voice rouses me from my impeding slumber, I arch, wanting to get more from you, I’m always wanting more. 
“What have you been sketching?” I moan, wondering how you can make such simple words seem so erotic. 
“Umm…I…uh…wha…?”  I couldn’t form a coherent word, let alone an entire phrase in that moment. You fondle my breasts. The warmth of your mouth engulfs a nipple, while you mercilessly toy with the other. 
“Tell me what you sketch.”

You’re on a quest for something else as your mouth trails away. Your hands however remain at my breasts fingers doing their very best in making me melt further. Your kisses, your lips, your tongue explores a path further south. There is no thatch of curls that stands in your way, I am wholly clean, shaven as you’ve come to expect.
“Have you sketched me, my pet?” Ha! The entirety of my art is all you, the great, golden king.

You are there between my gaping thighs your warm breath both arousing and ticklish has me inching close to you. “Marik…”
There is a soft pounding, from somewhere far, so unaware in my lust fogged mind. But your soft curse against my inner thigh quickly brings me crashing back to earth.
“What?!” your bellow is frightening.
“Stay just like this, don’t you dare move an inch.” With that said you are off the bed with swiftness learned from years of fencing and training with your knights. I just manage to peek at your toned pale buttocks before it is covered by a silk robe. 
“Majesty, forgive the intrusion, but the new Queen, she is in need of you…” I hear this muffled softly from the distant and my heart drops. I hear you curse, and answer that you will see her in a few minutes. 
“Lea…” 
“Keep your apologies, king. There is no need for them. I will be here when you return.” I’ve become so well versed in this lie that it spills from my lips with ease.

I think I’ve become a masochist. Your kiss steals my breath, my heart and my soul and I whimper helplessly when you depart.
 

***

“Now I see why my husband is so fascinated with you.” Her voice is low, slightly accented by her Sryian brogue. She is magnificent, nothing at all like Krea.

She stands no taller than my slight stature. Her hair, glossy chestnut ringlets interwoven with strings of pearls frames her face. Her eyes, a dazzling shade of blue, hooded by lashes rivaled my own in length. She was small, gracefully so and delicate, but not to the point of breaking, in fact she looked as though she could hold her own if the situation ever called for it. She donned a lovely gown of deep set burgundy, offset about the shoulders with lace accentuating her overflowing bust. She walked with the well-bred grace of a Queen as she made her way to me. 
I slowly fall to a curtsy, the loose robes adorning my body flowing about me, skimming the dark earth beneath my sandaled feet. Soon, I feel warm fingers cradle my chin, lifting my head in a soft gesture. I am starring into eyes that don’t seem unkind, but reserved and searching.
“Maybe it is I who should bow down to you, hmm?” 
“Your Highness…“ Her soft laughter grips me with surprise.
“I should despise you, but it seems it would take up too much of my energy to do so. And besides, being devious and plotting you demise is beneath me. That, I believe I shall leave to my husband's first wife.” she released my chin, her smile, set in place, showing what would’ve been perfectly rowed teeth, had it not been for two elongated front ones. “The bitch doesn’t care for you at all, I’m afraid.” She bids me to rise, and I did so as I do everything, with calculated slowness. 
“Do you ride?” she asks suddenly. 
“Ride, your Highness?” I wasn’t quiet grasping what she wanted from me, as of habit I nervously tucked a stray stand of hair behind my right ear.
“Yes, Horses, do you ride them?” 
“Yes.” She gave a curt nod, then grasped my hand and pulled me along.
“Most excellent, I wish to go for a ride, you will accompany me.” Did I have a choice? Like a dog lead on a leash, I followed her every steps, until we arrived at the stables. She ordered for a white mare from the stableman to be saddled. I smiled at the anxious boy and asked for my black Arabian, Gedle the one you purchased for me at market years ago.
In one swift move I am seated above Gedle’s massive stance and watch your Queen settle upon her own steed. She is surprisingly well poised seated sidesaddle. With a soft smile she grasps the reins of her mare and begins a steady canter. I follow. In silence we ride side by side, Gedle’s long strides easily matching that of her mare. I know not where she is taking me, and yet I have no fear, there is something about your Queen that seems to put me at ease.
It comes as a shock to me when he mare’s strides lengthens into a full gallop, I hear the tinkles of her laughter upon the rushing wind, her hair flows wildly, dancing and bouncing with each jarring gallop, she turns and beams at me, her eyes twinkling with laughter. Soon, I am galloping after her, my own echoes of joy mingles with hers, the thundering hooves of our horses are perfectly in sync and I laugh at the sheer oddity of it all.

The concubine and the wife, racing and laughing like children. I cannot help but wonder when exactly was the last time I felt this refreshed, this overwhelming sense of freedom filtering through my very being? So caged have I been in your gilded palace that I have forgotten the little joys of being out in the open could bring. I am thankful to her for that, for giving me a taste of it again. 
“You ride quite well.” her breaths comes out in short gasps as she reins in her mare. “Where did you learn?”

“Marik…I mean his Majesty taught me.”

“Ah, yes. So magnanimous, my husband.” I did not know how to respond to that, so I remain silent. “He is quite possessive of you, Lealin. If I were a jealous woman, I think I would find you quite threatening.” She smiles at me. “But as I said, you have nothing to fear from me. I grew up with a father who adored his concubines more than he did my mother. It is the way of things.” She says with a small shrug. “You must take lunch with me. I wish to know more about you.”