Breeding a Lady, Breeding a Slave (Breeding Sex, BBW, Romance, Fantasy) (Erotic Tales of the Barbarian Empire) (2 page)

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One night, a few weeks later, she sang to me.

After an intense session of pleasure with her, we had collapsed onto the cushions, still soaked in sweat. My copious seed still dripped from her.

I had used her well, yet tenderly as I had become accustomed. And in exchange for my two spewings inside her, I had given her innumerable moments of climactic ecstasy, wonderful to me, seeing her shake and moan and smile softly just after each …

I did not get up to clean myself or her, yet she didn’t seem to mind.

She lay with her back to my chest, breathing softly. One of my arms was draped over her breasts, and she clasped my wrist tightly with her dainty hand.

She made a small noise, like a whispered hum, and she started to sing.

It should have startled me; after all, she had rarely even spoken before. But I felt so at peace with her, the flood of moonlight soothing our souls, and her singing seemed like something I had longed for, the missing element I did not know was needed.

The words were Knellian, mostly unknown to me.

But the rhythm, her emotion carried them… The song turned from happy and light to somber, the melody becoming discordant then harmonious again… and certain words were repeated, savored, then the song moved on… Atrellus, Gnorlleian, Reni …

Names,
I suddenly realized.
They were names!

I had seen Imperial lineage lists, of course; I was keeper of my own family’s records, sketchy though they were, since the Brillean conflict had destroyed our records at Korsus.

I wondered; was this something similar? Certain words of the song, repeated with the names, must mean married, begat… The entire song was a lineage list! How many generations, fifteen, twenty? If it was like the Imperial lists, it must be going forward in time…

Cathissa
,
she sang softly, then words of joy, an etheric melody.

Then, after a minute, her voice broke for the first and only time, and the song turned dark, her voice more low and rumbling than I could have imagined. I felt her clutch my arm even more tightly, and she seemed to shake.

The melody lifted slightly again, still the song centered on someone called Cathissa, and now another name, at first unrecognized in her lilting song, but then… I realized…

It was MY name. This part of the song was about HER life.

SHE was Cathissa!

“Cathissa, ” I said softly. “Your name is
Cathissa.”

She nodded.

She sung on still, another verse, a repetition of the last, perhaps? Her name, then my name, and another word…
Padri? Poduri?
Something in Knellian that I didn’t understand.

The song ended abruptly. She released my hand, and rolled to face me.

Her face was streaked with tears, her lips quivering. I kissed her gently.

I couldn’t say what I wanted to then. What I felt. I was much too afraid. I gazed into those wet eyes, stared at those quivering lips, and she reached out and stroked my forehead as if I were the one needing comforting.

“Cathissa,” I told her. “I will always take care of you. I swear to keep you safe.”

She nodded again, but her lips stopped quivering and there was the trace of a smile. Then, for the first time, she leaned close and softly kissed ME.

After the kiss, I asked her, “Who is Poduri? Love, is there something else you want me to know?”

She seemed to get my meaning. She took my hand, and guided it down to her rounded belly.

“Poduri,” she whispered. “Yours… Poduri. Yes?”

“You mean …?” I was startled by what she was suggesting. But I’d always heard some women could
know
such things very early with certainty. “Poduri is…
baby?”
I asked.

“Yes,” she whispered, choking up again… But smiling, sobbing in joy.
“Bay-a-bee.
Yours, Master.”

That night, I slept in her cell at her side. Azul commented on it later, and I told him I’d had too much drink and had expired after enjoying my slave.

I couldn’t let my servant, or anyone, know the truth, not yet: that the pleasure slave Cathissa had sung a song of generations, and stolen my heart just as she had taken my seed.

It would take some doing, but I would ask favors… I would see her raised in status and make her my concubine, so that our child could be recognized as my own.

And then, I would always be able to take care of them both.

My name is unimportant, and I doubt you have ever heard of me. I am employed as a naval mage, a thaumaturgic fusilladier in the service of the Empire, if you must know.

The magic is powerful in my blood, but it is usually the aristocratic officers who bask in the glories and rewards of battle. I am no Lord; I am but a human weapon, alas, my fire-balls and rending spells splitting ships’ hulls and ending men’s lives in return for a steady wage.

On one occasion, however, my sorcerous blood—and the magic in my seed, which allows such power to be passed down to offspring—led me to one of the most touching, and unexpected, pleasures of my life.

During one of my stays in port, my uncle, who was a member of the Interior Ministry, needed a confidential messenger to one of the Kyssan courts. I accepted the mission with pleasure, grateful for the unexpected distraction… and the rare chance to wallow in luxury.

The business took me but a few days, during which I mingled in the festivities of the court. The Kyssan Mage-King was very gracious to me, as a fellow wizard; his spouse I did not meet—though it was said she was above us in the gallery of the dining hall during one of the banquets at which I was present.

On the evening before I was to return to port to board my vessel, just before nightfall, I received the following note:

A lady sends her compliments to
Mage Meister R. Feldan,
a
nd begs that he will call at Number
300
, the Elm House, Oakenfall
Street.

Intrigued and only a bit nervous, I placed my ember-wand in my pocket and proceeded to the place named in the note.

It was a small sandstone townhouse on a respectable street. I was received at the door by a nice elderly lady and ushered into a well but plainly furnished room.

The old woman thanked me for being so kind as to come. “I have received you at the door myself,” she said, “because I could not trust my servants with this. In fact, they have been sent away for the evening.”

“Well,” I told her, “thank you, madam, for attending to me, but I’m afraid I don’t understand the reason for your summons.”

She nodded. “Yes. Well… It is a strange request I have to make of you— but the reputation the Naval Mage Corps has for discretion is known to me. May I rely on your honor to keep this matter secret?”

I assured her she might. “My foster daughter, whom I dearly love,” she said, “is married to an older man, but the union has, alas, not been blessed with children. Nonetheless, her husband demands an heir. He blames her unjustly and is making her life wretched. I have known it was not her fault, and I have advised her to do whatever is necessary to conceive an heir. Now, good sir—have I give her the correct advice, do you think?”

“Perhaps so,” said I, “but what can I do about it? I am about to leave this city tomorrow, and I may never see it again.”

“That is the reason,” she said, “that I have invited you to come here to meet her. She has seen you before, though you did not know it. You bear some slight resemblance to her husband, and she wishes her child to inherit your noble and—enchanted—blood and, this once accomplished, never to see, or be seen, by her seed-donor again. For the desire for an heir, and not wantonness, has solely influenced her. Do you consent?”

I was stunned. Was she truly asking what she seemed to be?

It was an intriguing offer, but dangerous … Perhaps for all of us, if the husband found us out. The house, the old lady’s bearing … All had the air of wealth and aristocratic manners. The foster daughter’s spouse might be a powerful man, indeed.

“I, umm… Might I at least see the lady, first?” I stammered.

“She would die of shame if you should reject her,” said the old lady, “but there is truly no fear of that, I think. If you are pleased with her, go up and kiss her hand when I present you.”

She then conducted me upstairs and opened the chamber door.

A petite lady was standing in the center of the room, looking timidly at me as I entered.

As soon as I saw the lady, I loosened my grasp on the ember-wand which I had in my pocket. All fear of treachery vanished from my mind. I wouldn’t be needing to blast anyone to ashes, after all.

No, suspicion was gone … And another sentiment immediately took its place.

I approached the young woman and kissed her hand. The old lady shut the door and retired, leaving us alone.

I was alone with a woman not in fact beautiful, by classical standards … But very interesting in appearance regardless.

She was small in stature, as Kyssan females tend to be … Her figure was fine and her features, though irregular, were pleasing: large, pale green eyes, a downturned nose, and curiously elongated ears that poked through the strands of her long blonde hair.

Her gaze fell to the carpet; the blush of modesty warmed on her cheeks, receded and paled, then showed again more rosy than before.

Her hand trembled in mine.

She was dressed in plain muslin, without any ornament, and her pale yellow hair was straight and plainly brushed; but there was that in her bearing which convinced me that she was a true noble
L
ady
—and one in an embarrassing position.

“Fair madam,” I said, “your choice has fallen on one who can appreciate your delicate beauty… Let us forget for the moment the strange circumstances which brought us to this, and try to enjoy this… task… which we will share.”

A grateful smile graced her delicate pink lips— but she involuntarily averted her cheek from the kiss I pressed upon it.

“You are all right, Lady?” I asked.

She did not reply to me, remaining meek and quiet.

By this time I felt that the task of getting her with child would be the most agreeable one that had ever fallen to my lot to perform. Despite my battle-hardened nerves, I felt my own skin warming with blood, and a throbbing urgency and a fiercer warmth growing at my loins, where my manhood was already straining at my trousers.

She stood passive in a deep, dreamy reverie, looking almost unconscious while I unfastened her dress and let it fall to the floor.

Her under-garments were of the finest lace. The stud that fastened her chemise was a large diamond, which only confirmed my opinion she was a Lady of high station. I kissed her beautiful, small white bosoms which were now partially exposed to me, the areolae, peeking from over the top of the lace, almost as pale as the rest of her skin.

She awoke from her reverie with another deep blush and, going to the other side of the bed, she took off her silken shoes with her back to me, so that I did not get a glimpse of even one pale ankle.

Such modesty!

I had not known the Kyssans to be so shy… But then, their high-born Ladies were said to be held to higher standards than the rest.

Then she dropped off her under-things and got into bed, covering herself up … face and all.

I soon undressed, removing my coat, shirt, trousers and shift, and followed.

I slid my arms under her slim form, took her into my embrace, and kissed her tenderly. Though she allowed my tongue to explore her pouting little mouth, her lips did not move to return my kisses.

My hands wandered over all parts of her fine, delicate form.

So long as they lingered on her bosoms she was passive… but when I played too wantonly with the downy-soft curls at her loins, she grew restless.

There was a warmth down there now, and the curls were dewy with her moisture …

Still, she feigned indifference to my touch, her eyes squeezed shut.

I was excited by her modesty to the highest pitch of desire.

I drew her unresisting form beneath me and, parting her thighs, my straining, swollen cock-head entered her damp and fertile womanhood.

Ye Gods
…
Such Bliss! Indeed, the promised joy of the Eighteen Heavens would not have tempted me to withdraw it at that moment!

My male ‘serpent’ had entered a delightful cavern where it was surrounded by moist, clinging tissues alive with affinity to its sensitive touch.

Still, my lady lay passive, without a moan or cry.

I put my arms under the small of her back and, holding her firmly, gave a plunge which sent my crest plowing deep—

—until it touched the rim of her very womb.

“Aieee!” she cried, her voice melodious in pleasure. “Gods, your prick feels so deep… Fie, I come! FILL ME!”

She could no longer refrain from manifesting her delight; she wrapped her arms around me, and her tiny hands clawed my back in wanton ecstasy.

At the same time, her taut womanhood began to pump and milk the entire length of my cock like the silken fist of a goddess.

“Thy seeding comes indeed, my Lady!” I cried.

I gave another thrust which unsealed the fountain of my glans, and then another which planted the gushing sperm in the midst of her loins.

She held my face between her hands and gazed entranced with her eyes … While I held my cock deep, and the life-giving fluid dashed against her womb, spurt after spurt pumping deep into her tiny body to fill her completely.

The spasms of the seeding seemed to last for an eternity, wracking my body, paralyzing me with shaking pleasure as the deepest male instinct worked to pump every last drop of life essence out of me—and into this fragile female vessel.

She melted while she gazed into my eyes, and put up her lips for the first and only real kiss she exchanged with me.

Our lips were glued together till the last drop trickled from my crest, and the thrilling rapture slowly faded … and left me nearly lifeless in her arms.

The seed which she had milked from me could hardly fail to quicken in her womb … She stared deeply into my face, as if wanting to stamp the offspring with my features.

We lay perfectly still for a long time; then the door opened and the old lady called me.

I got up to see what she wanted.

“You must go NOW,” she said. I told her I could not bear to leave my charming Lady just now …

“You will undo what I hope you have done if you stay longer!” Then she whispered, “I do not wish to startle her, but there is danger of discovery. Lie perfectly still on your back, darling,” she added to the lady in bed, “and it will be a fine boy. And a sorcerer, I do not doubt!”

I dressed and stepped to the bedside. The sheet was drawn; her pale, sweat-drenched forehead alone was visible.

I kissed it and withdrew. The old lady soon followed me and put a ring into my hand as she dismissed me hastily from the front door. “She begs you to accept it in token of her respect. That is ALL she gives you, sir. Her love is for her husband.”

I should not have accepted it if I had seen, as I did on reaching home, that it was a diamond worth thousands of Gessae. On the inside of the ring were engraved the words, IN HONOR…

Alas, I left the city, as had been expected, on the first morning coach.

Before proceeding far, however, we met with an accident involving a fallen log and a broken wheel on the coach. No one was injured, but we would have to wait for the afternoon coach.

I hitched a ride on a market-wagon and rode back to the city rather than kick my heels on the country road where the coach had broken down.

As we approached the main street we could not cross. We had to pause, to allow the cortege of the sovereign, the Mage-King, to pass. By his side was sitting his fair and esteemed wife.

It was the lady with whom I had lain the night before!

She must have supposed me far along on my journey, or she would not have left the seclusion of her palace. She rode on display in front of her subjects, unconscious of the presence of the man whose seed was even then germinating in her womb!

It has been six months since then…

The news-scrolls which we received at port a few days ago announce that there is great rejoicing in a certain capital city. The wife of the Kyssan sovereign is in an interesting condition…

I felt myself tearing up a little at the news, but told myself that it was only pride I was feeling, the tears due to joy in my … accomplishment.

Respectful of my Lady’s position, I never visited Kyssan lands again … Though her pale face and form would haunt my memories for years to come.