Wicked Empress: The Onic Empire, Book 4 (9 page)

“Now is the time.” Viltori helped Bithia lift up. He grasped Drahka’s cock, sliding him into her with one smooth motion. She plunged down on him so swiftly she suddenly engulfed his entire length. Desperate to hold on, determined to pleasure her first, he lost control of his movements, but Viltori was there, telling him to breathe, helping him keep his rhythm by mastering his hand.

Gasping, Bithia bounced upon his lap, moving within so that she grasped him almost as tightly as his fist had earlier. Closing his eyes, determined to feel everything from the nubbly texture of the fabric against his buttocks to the burning heat of his chosen, to the moist breath of his teacher, Drahka erupted just as Bithia clamped down on him, her whole body shuddering.

For a long moment, he simply held on to her as he pumped his seed deep inside. Bithia turned her head, kissing him over her shoulder, lifting her hands to twine in his hair. When the last of the shudders left their drained bodies, Bithia opened her eyes just as he opened his. In her gaze, he saw the truth—he had pleased his chosen beyond her expectations. Before pride could puff his chest, he realized he never would have been able to do so without his teacher. As if she had just remembered him too, Bithia turned her head as Drahka lowered his gaze.

Tormented cock jutting up from his body, Viltori knelt on the floor, his gaze darting between their eyes. A slow grin of triumph spread across his face.

“Tell me, Empress, will you now punish the teacher?”

Chapter Nine

After tossing out the challenge to Bithia, Viltori gazed upon his two students. At first one was so eager and the other so defiant, but now, both had a glow of satisfaction. He fell back upon his heels. Tension filled his entire body, but he found it was a good kind of pressure. He wanted release, but he also felt strong enough to put that moment off. Enjoying the need for climax was pleasurable in and of itself, something he hoped he’d just taught Drahka. All he’d taught Bithia was that he had no problem dominating her.

After a few blinks of her unusual eyes, a gleam filled Bithia’s expression, and he knew in that moment the power had shifted back to her. He was surprised his mastery had lasted this long.

“I think your unsatisfied cock will be punishment enough.” She stretched languorously atop Drahka’s strong legs, displaying the full of her satisfied body. Oh the things that he could do to her. He almost had. Yanking up her robe and plunging into the tight darkness between her rounded cheeks would have been sublime. Yet he hadn’t. Bithia was not his. He did not have the right to slake his needs upon her, only Drahka could. He was here to teach him. Bithia said that he now belonged to her, but she’d not given him any details.

Concern slowly ate away the satisfaction on Drahka’s face. “It unfair to keep him in such pain.” His Diolan was getting better, but he clearly needed more lessons. Viltori couldn’t wait to continue with his instructions in both language and love.

Bithia turned her head, nodding with false concern. “If you wish to help him, you may, with my blessing.”

At that, Drahka blanched. “One man does not touch another man.”

“You let him touch you earlier,” Bithia pointed out with barely concealed glee.

“That was to show, for teaching, not for pleasure.” Clearly horrified by the very idea of touching another man, Drahka twisted his face into such a moue of disgust he managed to make himself utterly unattractive.

“Well, it’s either by your hand or his own, but it will not be by my hand.” Bithia cast Viltori a smirk.

“He should not waste his essence.”

“Yes, it is a puzzle.” Bithia rose, dislodging Drahka’s softening prick, and slowly pulled on her robe, making sure Viltori got a clear view of her luscious cunt. “But I’m afraid you two will have to work this out, as I must go. Meetings and important empress duties.”

Drahka lifted his arm as if to stop her, but in the end he simply watched her walk away. He was not yet ready to take a power position over Bithia. Her robe swirled around her calves as she yanked open the door and departed.

Viltori saw his own reflection in one of the mirrors and almost laughed at his pathetic state. His cock was so hard and primed that moisture leaked from the tip like tears. Drahka too looked at him and frowned.

“Not right to leave you this way.”

“No.” Viltori shook his head. He knew by Drahka’s pained expression that he could probably guilt him into alleviating his problem. Manipulating his student would be simple; however, he just couldn’t take advantage of his friend that way. Standing and covering himself in his discarded robe, he motioned Drahka to follow him.

“Where we go?”

“Where are we going?” Viltori corrected automatically. Drahka repeated the phrase. “We are going to the training rooms.” Along the way, Viltori reminded him about the Harvesters and their role in Diolan society. They’d discussed them many times, but this would be his first exposure to how they were trained.

“Why will we go to the training rooms?” Drahka asked, looking for confirmation that he’d spoken correctly.

“You show remarkable progress, my student.” Viltori clapped him on the shoulder. Just as he started to enjoy the feel of his hard muscles, he pulled his hand away, clasping it to the other behind his back. “There is more than one way to deal with unrequited lust.”

As soon as Viltori stepped into the training rooms, he took a deep breath. Sweat, leather and the faintest tang of blood scented the air. Groups of men were scattered about the room training in different ways: some grappled barehanded; some swung double clubs; some used dull-edged swords atop the tilt-table; and some practiced the fluid movements of
kintana
. Drahka’s gaze seemed to be everywhere at once, taking it all in. He asked question after question, for his tribe had no such organized way to train in the art of combat. So few lived on his world that they never fought with each other. There would be no point when they had plenty of resources.

Leading Drahka to the gear room in the back, Viltori selected two pairs of
mondi
pants for their training session. The drawstring trousers were drab brown and loose, comfortable for a wide range of movement. Drahka pulled his on under his robe, then removed the heavy crimson garment. Viltori had far less modesty; he wrenched off his robe first, then drew on his pants. He noticed Drahka made a point to look away. Once they were dressed, Viltori led him out to the mats.

Rather than starting with unfamiliar weapons, he chose first to show him the basics of barehanded wrestling. Drahka was convinced such a fight would be unfair as he was larger. One quick tumble to the mat convinced him that size had little to do with this style of fighting. Drahka rapidly grasped that to prevail, he had to keep a cool head and use his opponent’s weight and momentum against him.

As Viltori pinned Drahka down to the mat, his head close to his crotch, Viltori realized his mistake. Teaching him involved a great amount of touching, which exacerbated the longings in Viltori’s body. Rather than decreasing his arousal, pawing all over Drahka was only making things worse. Drahka’s body was so solid and he smelled strongly of Bithia. Viltori could not imagine a sweeter perfume than that of her sex.

To protect himself from an embarrassing erection, Viltori moved on to the
dantaratase
, a tall, slender staff used for both defense and offence. Drahka was an excellent student who was comfortable with his body and quickly grasped the mechanics of the weapon. It didn’t take long for Drahka to knock his teacher to the ground. As Viltori lay on his back, realizing that physical punishment was not removing his lust, Drahka stepped forward and pulled him to his feet. Drahka ran his hand over his back, making sure he had not hurt him, which only increased Viltori’s ardor.

“I am fine. A bit of damaged pride, but other than that, I am fine.” The man was nothing short of amazing. Drahka could wield an unfamiliar weapon far better than he could, and Viltori had spent two seasons in training.

“This is how you try to forget a woman?” Drahka asked. He leaned close and whispered so that the other men wouldn’t hear.

“Me? No, this is not what I prefer to do, but I thought it might help.” In a way, it had. He was no longer hard and he wasn’t thinking about Bithia anymore. Unfortunately, his longings returned to his student. Viltori couldn’t believe his misfortune. Instead of one person he couldn’t have, he now had two. Once freed of the restrictive rules of being an acolyte, he couldn’t self-indulge for fear of losing the respect of his friend. Because of cultural taboos, his friend couldn’t release him, and the woman he craved was determined to punish him by keeping him unfulfilled. His only hope was for a wild dream that released him unto his bedclothes. That would literally take the matter out of his hands.

“Why Bithia no let you give to her?”

Concerned that they would be overheard, Viltori drew him back toward the cells, where the recruits slept, so they could have some privacy. Rather than taking him into a private room, he chose the open area where the lowest of the recruits slept. Viltori thought he would be less tempted in a more public place.

“I cannot give to Bithia because she is not my chosen.” In the simplest terms, that was true. However, there were many other issues holding Viltori back.

The frown that spread across Drahka’s face would have been comical but for his genuine confusion and hurt. “But I will let you give to her. I will share with you.”

Viltori felt his brows rise. “In your tribe, men share women?” For all their backward taboos, Drahka’s tribe apparently had some startlingly permissive attitudes as well.

Drahka patiently explained that any man could give to any receptive woman. Such increased her odds of having a child.

“But Bithia must have a child that is yours,” Viltori pointed out.

“How would they know?”

After having spent time with the primitive Oughunian people, Viltori knew how technologically inferior Drahka’s people were. Drahka didn’t understand that a simple test that took mere moments to perform could reveal the mother and father of any child on Diola. Viltori tried to explain this concept to him, but the science baffled Drahka. Moreover, he didn’t understand why paternity mattered when all that mattered to him and his tribe was making more children. They cared not where they came from, or who made them, only that they were strong. For the Oughunian people, sex was all about procreation. Once Viltori understood the concept Drahka operated under, he could comprehend the man more fully. His drive to procreate shaped his beliefs and reactions to sex. Changing those perceptions would be almost impossible. Viltori sighed. It seemed he would never be able to have either of the two people he lusted after. Even Rown, who’d given so greatly to him, was forbidden to receive pleasure by his hand. If he were a man who believed in the gods, he would think he was being punished.

“Then what will we do about you?” Drahka asked, clearly not liking the idea of his teacher going unfulfilled.

Viltori didn’t like the idea, either, but with his status unknown, there wasn’t a lot he could do. He could simply take care of himself; but the idea of it so upset Drahka, he didn’t think he could masturbate even behind the man’s back. He couldn’t give to Bithia without terrible repercussions should she bear his child instead of Drahka’s. Bithia’s sister, Kasmiri, relinquished her crown when it was revealed she was the child of an empress and an unofficial consort. Such parentage made her invalid to sit upon the throne. While Viltori stood there pondering what to say, he heard a shuffle and whispered voices coming from the back of the main sleeping room.

Placing his finger to his lips, he moved toward the noise, with Drahka following in his wake. As his eyes adjusted to the murky light, he discovered two recruits standing very close together. Their foreheads touched, but they were not kissing. Peering closer he realized each had a hand to the other’s cock. Slowly, with great finesse, they were stroking each other.

Viltori’s erection returned in a shocking rush. He remembered his own furtive gropings in the semi-darkness with anonymous men who sought the same thing as he: relief. As he watched, one of the recruits dropped to his knees and took the other into his mouth. For a long moment, Viltori let himself imagine he was the one against the wall with Drahka wantonly sucking his cock. Drahka would swirl his tongue over the head and down the length as he worked his palm over his balls. Then he’d grasp his buttocks in both hands, pulling him deeper, encouraging him to fuck his mouth with great, hard thrusts.

It must have taken longer for Drahka’s eyes to adjust because just as Viltori began to lose himself in his lustful imaginings, Drahka drew back with a great hiss of indrawn air. Before he could bellow something out, Viltori turned, clapped his hand over his mouth, and dragged him away. Pushing him against a wall, Viltori leaned close and said, “Do not speak loudly.”

“But they do wrong!”

Viltori had grown weary of Drahka’s insistence that everything he didn’t understand was wrong. “Different isn’t necessarily wrong.” Taking a deep breath, remembering the man’s upbringing, he added, “Your way isn’t the only way.”

“But that, one man sucking another man’s cock, is wrong!”

Pressing his body into the wall, Viltori placed his face very close to Drahka’s face. “When I touched you and you touched me, was that wrong?”

“That was to teach,” he defended. When his gaze shifted away, he revealed the truth; he enjoyed what they’d done and that caused him tremendous guilt as it went against everything his tribe had taught him.

Forcefully grasping Drahka’s head, Viltori pressed his entire body along his, and kissed him as hard and deep as he could. Startled, Drahka accepted for a moment, letting Viltori thrust his tongue between his shocked lips, but then he fought back. Just as he had earlier, Drahka tried to get Viltori to accept the thrusting of his tongue. Dueling for supremacy, Drahka groaned when Viltori cupped him through the thin weave of his pants. Hard and hot, Drahka’s cock filled his hand to overflowing.

Yanking Drahka’s hand to his cock resulted in another duel for each to give more greatly to the other. Viltori could read the signs and knew Drahka was close. He wanted to taste him. Viltori wanted to know the full of his pleasure. Falling to his knees, Viltori ripped open the flaps of his pants, revealing the wicked length of Drahka’s uncut cock, and took him deep into his mouth.