The Slave Princess....Part 5

Waking, I wonder;
What raiment does the breeze wear
On this first day of spring?
A fine spun, fragrant mantle
Borrowed from the swaying blooms!

- The Canticle of Menkeret.


I lie in my pallet and, as is now my custom, I listen closely to the nocturnal sounds of the house of Heshuzius. But, after an hour or so of this, my mind inevitably wanders to former times, to the days before my enslavement, to the house where I grew up and its life of happy, carefree idleness.

In those days, my father would read to me daily from the many sacred books of our people, reserving the end of each lesson for selections from the Canticle of Menkeret. Parts of the sacred Canticle I quickly learnt by heart, but knowledge of other chapters was forbidden to me. When I asked him why, as I frequently did, his response was always,

“I cannot foresee the consequences of you possessing such knowledge.”

Even my mother who has attained the rank of Divine Adoratrice in the temenos of Mehen, the Enveloper, was forbidden to read certain parts of the Canticle. She accepted this with good grace. Not so I.

My father had studied the arts of sorcery and necromancy for over twenty years and only then were the proscribed texts revealed to him by his teachers; masters in the art, which was as old as time itself. My father’s masters were old men too, or so it seemed to me. Once I told one of them so, only to receive a sharp rebuke. I was certain of one thing: that I did not want to wait until I was as old as they to fully learn the art of sorcery. As my father had no son, I was to be his heir. I was pleased, for sorceresses are rare in the long history of Mentrassanae. I was to be the successor of Mykita Umm Kala and Zia Tal Kadzior; my idol, who had lived, worked her magic and had been a lover and confidant of kings over five hundred years before my birth. My father encouraged my youthful adoration of these remarkable, almost legendary Mentrassan women while never believing that I could be their equal. I will prove him wrong yet.

The keeper of my father’s books and manuscripts was a man called Dorzi. He was a scholar, about twice my age. A handsome but reserved and bookish man, Dorzi was more at home amongst the old tomes than he was in the company of men or women, and he was infinitely more conversant with arcane lore and ancient tongues than with feminine wiles. He was the only servant my father would allow in his study and apart from my father, Dorzi seldom associated with the other occupants of the house.

One night when my father was away and my mother was busy entertaining one of her lovers, I slipped from my chamber. My father’s study was in the far wing of the house. It took me a long while to reach it by candlelight. It was also imperative that I go there unseen for I was forbidden to enter the room without my father. My journey was easier than I expected for most of the senior servants were engaged in the kitchens and cellars and the chamber maids had retired for the night. I crept into the study dressed in the most diaphanous of my night gowns; a fine garment, gossamer thin and costly. My hair hung back like a black mane, reaching far down my back. My eyes wide with awe, I paused by the large balcony window. Outside, a full moon hung in a cloudless sky; a moon as yellow as rich butter upon a field of stars; like countless fires dotted across the deep blue firmament.

“May I help you?” said a quiet voice behind me.”

Without turning I smiled; this was my quarry.

“May I be of assistance to you?” he asked again more firmly.

Now I turned slowly, fully conscious that the moonlight would be shining through the gossamer gown, illuminating my naked body beneath. I leant back against the window frame and smiled warmly.

“Lady Kayla!”

“Ah, you must be Dorazi.”

“Dor-zi, my lady,” he corrected me and bowed. “Forgive me but what brings you here at this hour? You must remember that your father…………”

“I was merely passing and wanted to see the view from this balcony. Is it not wondrous Dorazi? I’ve always loved it. Come and see it.”

As he approached, I saw that he was a slim man, younger looking and better built than I remembered; having seen him only once or twice since the commencement of his service. He looked up at the night sky,

“Aye my lady, it is very beautiful, but your presence here must…………”

I turned to face him sharply, arching my back and thrusting my chest slowly forward. We were of equal height, making it difficult for him to avoid looking at my breasts.

“Yes Drazi?”

“Dorzi, my lady.”

“I care not what they call you,” I whispered.

This took him aback and he paused awkwardly for a moment, then the officious tone returned.

“I simply must admonish you and remind you that your father forbids……………….”

“Admonish me Dorazi? What insolence. Are you not a servant of this house?”

I slipped my hand between the folds of the gown and drew half of it aside, revealing my breast. I smiled and now he met my eye. I could hear him draw breath. I held him in awe.

Slowly I stepped forward, letting the gown slip from my shoulders. He looked down at my breasts glowing with the moonlight, he was silent, just the way I preferred him.

“Speak no more. What must pass between us requires no words.”

I spoke with gravity, making him look at me wide eyed. Maintaining my steady gaze, melting him with my eyes, I slowly unbuttoned his blue silk robes and reached for his belt. He breathed audibly and looked down. He grit his teeth then half opened his mouth,

“Ah, I warn you, if you speak, I will leave.”

He blinked and shut his mouth. I smiled, satisfied at how nicely I had turned the situation to my advantage. I now looked up at his piercing black eyes and gave him a look full of mischief. Drawing his trousers down, I reached for his cock. It was loose, long and cool, and made a satisfying handful. I squeezed it and began to massage it gently. Dorzi sighed and to my surprise, his cock began to swell quickly. Soon it stood out against the deep blue of his robes, curving up wards towards my face. This was the type of cock that I liked; I told Dorzi so, with a smile. He smiled back but said nothing,

“Good,” I thought, “I’ve taught you to behave.”

I set my knees down on the cool stone floor and wrapped my lips around his cock. My hand slipped down to its very base and the work that I performed there ensured that Dorzi’s organ remained at full attention. At first I teased him with my mouth; licking and sucking the head of his cock intensely for a minute then stopping to gauge his reaction. This always seemed to leave him with a hint of a doubt as to whether I would continue. Of course I did continue and I would be lying if I said I did not enjoy the task.

Now I noticed that he had shut his eyes and relaxed his muscles; tension is never a good thing. I took his shaft deeper into my mouth and savoured its warmth and texture. My tongue teased and licked its whole length while I kept my lips firmly locked around him. My hand now tickled and teased his balls through the folds of his robes. I could feel him becoming harder and harder. His hand strayed to my hair and I felt him gently stroke it; I didn’t mind. Taking him out of my mouth, I ran my tongue all down the base of his shaft and concentrated my efforts on the base where I felt his balls contract. I settled down to licking his shaft with long, deep strokes as though it was some delicious fruit.

To add to my performance; I moaned deeply, throwing my hair from side to side and swiveling my hips. I could tell he was enjoying all this – soon he would be as pliable as warm beeswax in my hands. At last I told him to recline upon the floor. To see his glistening cock, curving up in the moonlight, was impressive – my handiwork, I was justly proud of it. I now narrowed ...

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