Wicked Empress: The Onic Empire, Book 4 (8 page)

Drahka very much enjoyed the teaching of solo touching. If he could stroke himself for a long time without climaxing, he could give longer and harder to Bithia, which should please her. His tribe had taught that such touching was shameful, for it wasted a man’s essence, but if he did solo touching without orgasm, there would be no waste.

Watching his teacher had been exciting too. Viltori’s body was similar to his but different as well. His teacher had light hair on his head, no hair on his chest, and very dark hair on the rest of his body, especially around his cut cock. At first, Drahka had been horrified that someone had cut Viltori’s cock, but someone had only cut the tip. Drahka had been so fascinated that he’d touched Viltori several times before he remembered men should not touch other men.

Trying to remain faithful to the true way of his people would be difficult, but not impossible. Like when Viltori had shown him kissing; that was wrong, and Drahka almost hit his teacher, but then he realized Viltori was only trying to show, so maybe that kind of man-to-man touching was permissible. Touching for the purpose of teaching wasn’t against the true way. It wasn’t as if they were doing what had caused Drahka to lose his name. Still, Drahka wanted to be the one to give. When Viltori tried to force Drahka to take, Drahka had fought back. In a most curious way, he’d enjoyed their battle for dominance.

Kissing Viltori was different from kissing Bithia. They each tasted unique. The feel of their lips and tongues was different too. What was the same were the feelings inside, and that, he knew, would give him trouble. He could not feel for Viltori what he felt for Bithia. Drahka could not have those feelings and hold to the true way.

When he looked up, something had changed with the cast of Bithia’s face. Her confidence was shaken and Viltori’s seemed renewed. Was it always this way with these people? Just like those in his tribe, they strove to master each other. Switching of those roles could mean great shame. Just as Bithia opened her mouth to speak, Viltori pressed his finger to her lips and silenced her. Her glare said more than words, but she held her tongue.

“Drahka,” Viltori said, “I wish to teach the empress something new.” He spoke first in Diolan, then translated to Oughunian. “Bithia needs to learn how to take, as I’m sure you discovered last night.”

Drahka nodded. Bithia had not seemed to understand she should be more receptive to his giving.

Bithia swallowed hard, her mismatched eyes wide as she considered them. Carefully, they arranged her upon a padded bench so that she was facedown, with her bound arms behind her. The tiny bench was just long enough to hold her body from the top of her head to the edge of her hips. Knees buried in thick carpet, her bottom stuck up from the edge just a bit. Viltori whispered things to her as he draped her crimson robe over her body, covering her completely yet displaying her artfully.

Drahka would have preferred her in this position nude. When he told this to Viltori, he chuckled, his hand pausing to caress Bithia’s bound arms. “Just as Bithia needs to learn to take, you must learn to give slower.” Each time Viltori spoke, he carefully gave his words in both languages so that he and Bithia could understand.

“You see, Drahka, a woman like Bithia is used to being in command.” Easing her knees apart, Viltori settled himself behind her. “She knows how to take, but not how to take without a struggle.” Cupping one hand to each of her back cheeks, Viltori leaned very close to her, then said, “I’m going to teach her how to be submissive.”

Twisting her head so she could see Viltori over her shoulder, Bithia seethed, “Enjoy yourself now, teacher, because once I’m free—”

“You’ll what?” Viltori asked. His dark brows high over glittering brown eyes.

Drahka stood silently, trying to understand what was happening between his teacher and his chosen. Bithia seemed reluctant to accept Viltori’s teachings even though over their earlier meal, she’d said that she would learn just as he would.

Viltori pushed her cheeks apart and breathed long, slow and low against her bottom. Whatever Bithia intended to say was lost when she groaned. Never having heard a woman make such a sound, Drahka knelt beside Viltori and asked what he’d done.

“This fabric,” he stroked his long fingers over the crimson material of Bithia’s robe, “is called
astle.
One of its most wonderful properties is that it holds heat close to the body. So when I breathe…” he breathed out again, eliciting another groan of pleasure, “…Bithia feels that particular spot heat up far beyond anywhere else.”

“It’s like touching without a touch,” Drahka confirmed.

With a smile and a nod, Viltori whispered something against Bithia, something that caused her to squirm, not in an effort to get away, but as if she wished for him to press his face closer.

“What are you saying to her?” Drahka asked. Learning the words that pleased Bithia would be wise.

“I am telling her all the wicked things I wish to do to her. All the ways I wish to use her lovely body to sate my lust.” Lifting up, Viltori slowly pressed his cock in the fabric-covered split of her bottom, then rubbed his length up and down by rocking his hips.

Drahka went hard in such a rush he almost lost his balance. Viltori’s long, thick cock contrasted against the darkness of the red fabric, his movements leisurely but strong. Viltori moved against her as if he could do so all day without climaxing.

Exuberant with understanding, Drahka said, “This is why one practices solo touching!”

“Indeed.” Viltori nodded. “Because if one is controlled, one can last a long time and thoroughly torment—I mean arouse—his partner.”

Bithia swiveled her hips, trying to change the path of Viltori’s cock, but she was unsuccessful. His teacher simply followed along with her, as if he danced against her bottom. Watching them together was both arousing and frustrating. Drahka wanted to be the one who built Bithia’s passions. When his chosen struggled too much, Viltori grasped the tie around her bound hands and pulled up until she whimpered. After cautioning her to stillness, he let go, and now she held her bottom still for him. If Drahka thought Viltori was hurting her, he would have stopped him, but he seemed to be warning her with the threat of pain, like the straps riders used to control the
rangoug
beasts. It only hurt if they resisted.

“But a man should not put his cock there. Not in that place.” Drahka frowned for Viltori rubbed against her dark passage, not the entrance to her glory. No matter what Diolans believed, doing that went against everything he held to by the true way.

“Why shouldn’t a man put his cock here?” Viltori dipped down, nudging the tip of his cock against Bithia’s dark passage. Only the thin fabric of her robe prevented him from plunging within. As shocked as he was, Drahka couldn’t prevent a surge of excitement. Would Viltori force himself into her? Would Bithia let him without struggling? If she cried out in pain, would Drahka stop his teacher? All of these questions collided in his mind, keeping him immobile as he watched Viltori hold himself steady against her. Bithia was so perfectly still she scarcely breathed.

“No child can come of such a coupling,” Drahka explained, convinced that Viltori must already know this. And since he knew this himself, why did the prospect of taking her here, in this wrong way, excite him so? He didn’t want to watch Viltori slake his passion in this way. He wanted to do it himself!

A brief laugh confirmed Viltori knew the truth of what Drahka had said. “No child, only pleasure.” Turning to him, Viltori smiled more wickedly than any look that had ever crossed Bithia’s face. “Here a man can find his satisfaction without creating a child.”

“But the whole point of giving is to make a child!” Drahka was horrified that Viltori would deliberately waste his essence.

Viltori’s gaze traveled down to Drahka’s cock. Anticipation caused his essence to leak from the tip. Embarrassed by his clear lack of control, Drahka yanked the edges of his robe to cover himself up.

“Don’t.” Viltori pushed the edges apart, the fabric sliding sensuously as his teacher exposed him. “Don’t hide the truth. Watching excites you. Here.” Viltori moved away from Bithia, drawing Drahka to take his place between her legs.

Bithia turned her head to see what they were doing, but she remained curiously quiet despite the fact Viltori had not bound her mouth. Perhaps his threat to do so convinced her to keep silent. Drahka settled himself between her knees, his chest feeling tight from his shallow breaths.

“Do as I did. Rub yourself against her.”

A part of him said no, but another part, a stronger part, pressed against her as if drawn by unseen forces. Closing his eyes, he saw in his mind where he wished to place his cock so that when the contact came, the feeling was pure, undiluted by his sight. Raw and hot, his cock smoothed into the crevice of her bottom, moving against the fabric that was so slick it was almost like the wet he’d felt inside her last night.

Her groan matched his.

Keeping his eyes closed, Drahka placed his hands on her hips, not to hold her steady, but to steady himself. What he was doing was wrong in so many ways, but as long as he did not climax, he could tease her and himself. However, holding back became ever more difficult as the fabric held the heat not only against her flesh, but his. Each stroke increased the temperature, until his cock felt bathed in the slick hotness of her passage.

Wrenching back, Drahka stopped just before he lost control. He kept his eyes closed, thinking of anything, everything, other than Bithia.

On his shoulder, he felt the weight of Viltori’s hand. “Calm, deep breaths, Drahka.”

Mimicking his teacher, he drew in air through his nose and released it from his mouth. In this way, he staved off his climax, but only barely.

“I cannot do this, my teacher. I am not as trained as you.” When he opened his eyes, he saw that Viltori was kneeling next to him, slowly sliding the back of Bithia’s robe up. Ever so slowly he exposed her strong calves, the tender cup at the back of her knee where her skin was just a bit lighter, to the smooth ebony strength of her parted thighs, and then the glistening entrance to her glory.

“Do you see what teasing has done to her?” Viltori pushed the robe up to the middle of her back, then slid his long-fingered hand between her legs. When he pulled his hand back, his fingers glistened in the light. “See how slick she is? She weeps for your cock. The barest brush against her clit will send her screaming into orgasm.”

Determined to keep his composure, Drahka continued to take slow measured breaths through his nose, but each time he did he could smell and taste Bithia’s essence. He stood. To distract himself, he demanded, “Show me this clit.” His teacher had talked about this magical place once before, but Drahka refused to listen because a woman need not climax to make a child. Now he understood that wasn’t the point. Giving her pleasure was just as important as giving her a child.

Grasping her shoulder, Viltori angled Bithia up to her knees, then, with Drahka’s help, they pulled her to her feet.

“If you promise to be a good submissive, I’ll untie you.”

Bithia lifted her chin, but then lowered it slowly, nodding her agreement. The promise of pleasure was the only thing that made her willing to indulge Viltori’s teachings. Drahka had a feeling if he tried to boss her in such a way, he would not be as successful.

Viltori untied her wrists, slipped off her robe and tilted her chin up. “We are going to make you feel so good, Bithia, that you will never forget this day.”

Flicking his chin, Viltori indicated the chair where he wanted Drahka to sit. Drahka settled himself on the deeply padded armless chair with his legs held together. Viltori guided Bithia to sit upon his lap, facing away from him, but refused to let them couple. Her slight growl of annoyance pleased him, for he wished to fill her with the now-throbbing length of his cock just as much as she apparently wanted to be filled. Instead, his cock only pressed against her cool bottom as she spread her legs, straddling his lap. Speaking only in his native tongue, Drahka begged Viltori to hurry with his lesson for he could not last much longer.

Chuckling, Viltori placed himself on his knees and pushed Drahka’s legs open, which forced Bithia’s legs even wider apart as her thighs rested on the outside of Drahka’s.

“Bring your hands around her, Drahka, cup her breasts.”

Drahka did, heating the coolness of her flesh with the moist warmth of his palms. Arching her back, Bithia turned her head, kissing him over her shoulder as he twisted her nipples.

When she lowered her hands, Viltori gently slapped them away. “I am trying to teach, Bithia. This won’t do him any good if you rub yourself.”

Instead, Bithia reached back, smoothing her hands along Drahka’s waist, reaching until she flattened her palms against his lower back.

Mastering his movements, Viltori drew Drahka’s left hand down the smooth slope of Bithia’s belly to the triangle of hair that guarded the entrance to her glory. Pressing his middle finger firmly into her flesh, he slid his hand lower until he brushed against something firm. As soon as he touched this spot, Bithia jumped. Her thighs tried to pull together automatically, but his legs were far too strong. Deliberately he spread them farther, fingering her until she whimpered in surrender. Much like his teacher, he enjoyed having control over his chosen. Exploring with Viltori’s guidance, Drahka felt all along the lips of her sex, the snug entrance he could not wait to fill, and that hard little nub.

“Slowly, evenly, pressing not too hard and not too light will bring her higher. You control when she will find the summit.” Viltori moved his face very close, using the breathing technique to further torment Bithia, but Drahka could also feel his moist breath against his balls. He tried not to think of his teacher’s face that close to his cock. With Drahka’s finger and Viltori’s murmured words, Bithia squirmed against the power of his legs and the unbreakable grasp of his arm. Leaning near to her ear, Drahka swore in her language that he would not stop until he felt her climax. Her reaction convinced him that she enjoyed hearing aggressive words while he gave to her. This lesson with his teacher had taught him a great deal.