The Sorceress of Belmair

“You are the most arrogant man I have ever met, Dillon,” she answered.

He grinned again. “I probably am,” he agreed. “The result of my exalted pedigree, my queen. Now, let us bathe each other.”

The bathing chamber consisted of several small rooms. In the first two indentations in the shape of shells had been imprinted into the marble floor. A gold spigot, fashioned like an openmouthed fish, sprang from the wall bordering each of these recesses in the floor. Faintly scented lukewarm water poured from them. Next to each shelf was a small table upon which rested a large sea sponge and a round, flat dish of thickened soft soap bearing the same fragrance as the water.

She found herself quickly over her shyness regarding their nudity. She stole a quick look at his maleness. She was hardly familiar with the masculine body, but she doubted his manhood would be called insufficient by any standards. And if she was to admit it to herself he had indeed given her pleasure in the joining. It was that that most disturbed her. They were barely acquainted and she had enjoyed it. What did that say about her? Belmairans did not have the easy morals of Hetarians. Cinnia stepped into the shell.

“Now it is your brow that furrows,” Dillon said to her, and he directed the spigot head to wet her body.

“Are you invading my thoughts?” she said sharply.

“You asked me not to, and so I am not,” Dillon answered her. “I would know what troubles you, Cinnia. Can you put it into easy words, or would you prefer I seek those words for myself, my queen?” He dipped the sponge into the soap, and began to lather it over her shoulders and back.

She was silent a long minute, and then she said, “I liked what happened between us in the joining, Dillon. But what kind of a woman does that make me?”

“A passionate one, for which I am delighted,” he told her quietly.

“I reacted like an easy Hetarian woman. They were always different that way than we were. Swift to indulge their senses without a care for anyone or anything else,” Cinnia told him unhappily. “I didn’t know you, and yet I enjoyed the passions we shared in the joining. Nay, I reveled in it.”

“How many brides know the men with whom they are matched?” Dillon asked her. “It is rare in my world that women wed men they know well and love. Women in my world marry for many reasons, but love is rarely among them. Respect and love come afterward. Is it any different here in Belmair? And if a bridegroom is skilled and gentle, should his bride not gain pleasures with him? Why should her wedding night be one of fear and loathing, Cinnia? Why should she not have her passions stoked and brought to sweet fulfillment? Who would ever tell you such a terrible thing?” He swirled the sponge over her adorable buttocks, and squatted down to wash her thighs and shapely legs. Then he stood again and helped her to rinse the soap from her body.

When Cinnia turned to face him her pretty cheeks were pink. But Dillon tipped her small oval face up to his and tenderly kissed her lips. “No one told me anything,” she managed to whisper against his mouth. “Oh, I knew the basics of what must be between a man and a woman. Nidhug was emphatic that I learn such things. But we Belmairans are an old and honored race. Passion such as you engendered in me is unknown to us, Dillon.”

“Nay, it isn’t,” he told her. “It simply isn’t considered good manners in Belmair to discuss it, my queen. Enjoy it, aye! But discuss it? Nay! Would you like to do my back now?” Handing her the sponge he turned his back to her.

Taking the sponge from him, Cinnia rinsed it, and then dipping it into the soap she began to wash his broad back and shoulders. He was tall, and so it became necessary for her to stand upon her tiptoes. She laved the sponge across and down his body, and when she had finished she rinsed him as he had her, and Dillon turned about to face her.

4

“WHY ARE WE DOING THIS?” Cinnia asked him.

“Because it helps us to know and trust each other better,” Dillon said.

“You Hetarians are so carnal,” she replied, giving him a wry smile.

He took the soapy sponge from her. “And you have been wed to the most sensual of their races, my queen.” He drew her into his embrace with his free hand, and bending his head, found her mouth. The kiss he shared with her was long, and grew more passionate with each moment that passed. Her lips were petal soft beneath his, and she did not resist. Rather, he sensed her shy attempt to share his desire. Finally Dillon released her. His bright blue eyes stared down into her face. “I think,” he said slowly as if carefully choosing his words, “that with time I can make you as naughty as a faerie.” Enjoying the blush that suffused her pale cheeks, he handed her a second sponge. “Now let us wash each other,” he suggested.

She mimicked his motions. His sponge swept down her slender throat. Hers followed down his. He laved across her chest, and then began to bathe each of her breasts, tenderly lifting each small globe as he did. Her nipples puckered, and unable to help himself Dillon bent his head and suckled on one. Cinnia whimpered faintly, trying to concentrate on the broad plain of his chest with her own sponge. He made circles as he moved down her torso and over her belly. Then he knelt and began washing her mons, pushing the sponge between her nether lips, rubbing up and down her well-furred slit. When he had finished he washed both of her legs, lifting them up to bathe her small feet. When he had finished he rinsed her off, saying, “Now it is your turn, Cinnia.” And he forced her to her knees before him.

Gathering up all of her courage Cinnia looked the enemy in the eye. She sudsed the thick mat of fur surrounding his manhood. She lifted the beast up, and ran the sponge back and forth along its length. It stirred, and she dropped it nervously, moving quickly to his long muscled legs and his large feet. When she had finished she moved to stand, but Dillon’s hands held her down.

“Stay there,” he said and turning he rinsed himself off. When he had finished he pivoted back to face her. “Now, my queen, I am going to give you your first lesson in how to pleasure me. Take my manhood into your mouth and suck upon it. Be gentle, and beware of scraping me with your teeth.”

She had never heard of such a thing, but then if the truth be known, he had taught her all she now knew of lovemaking. Following his direction, she took him in her hand, and, leaning, forward, her mouth closed over him. The flesh was warm and tasted faintly of the soap she had washed him with. Cinnia felt his hand upon her head as she began to suck upon him. She heard his indrawn hiss of breath and as she did she realized that the softness in her mouth had begun to grow firmer with each tug of her jaws.

“You can take a bit more,” he said, his voice almost strained as he pushed himself deeper into her mouth. “Use the fingers of your other hand to tickle my sacs.”

She felt the thickening peg of flesh touching the back of her throat and struggled not to gag. Reaching beneath him, she found his seed sacs, cool and slightly hairy to her touch. She teased them with delicate fingers. As his manhood expanded within her mouth and he groaned low, Cinnia suddenly realized that her simple actions were indeed giving him pleasure. She felt a rush of power as she realized he was as vulnerable to passion as she was. Cinnia sucked harder upon him until her jaws were aching, and she could no longer contain him within her mouth.

It was at that point that Dillon growled a command to her to stop, and taking her by the hand led her to the bathing pool. Looking at him as they moved from one chamber into the other, Cinnia was astounded by the length and size of him. She had never really looked at him as she was now looking at him. He was magnificent! Together they stepped down into the perfumed water. Turning her about so that she was facing up the steps, he instructed her to kneel forward upon the steps, using her hands to balance herself. Then coming behind her he sheathed himself deep and fully within her body.

Cinnia gasped at his entry. His hands fastened themselves about her shapely hips, and he began to pump her, slowly at first with long, majestic strokes of his cock; then with increasing rapidity, with fierce, hard thrusts of his manhood. She whimpered, a sound of desperation, as he moved within her. “Please!” she begged him. “Please!”

“Tell me what it is you desire, my queen,” he whispered hotly in her ear.

“Give me pleasures, Dillon! Give me pleasures!” she cried. And the room filled with golden light, and the air crackled around them.

“Your wish, my queen, is mine to fulfill,” he murmured, kissing her ear, and then nipping hard on the lobe. Finding her pleasure center, he used it well, and she was quickly cresting as the feelings of delight swept over her. Withdrawing from her, he sat down upon the steps, cradling her within his arms, kissing her small face as she floated back to reality once again, and he kissed her slowly, murmuring softly against her lips, “Anytime, anywhere, Cinnia.” He reminded her of his earlier promise.

She opened her eyes at long last. Every inch of her tingled with excitement. “Do you behave like this all the time?” she asked him softly.

“You are mine,” he said simply. “I am going to fall in love with you, Cinnia. Not because you are beautiful or because you are my wife, but because we were meant to be together like this forever. I don’t want you resistant to pleasures. Not when the cojoining of our bodies is such a good thing.”

“The light was gold and the air crackled again,” she said to him.

“Because we were in tune with one another,” he told her. “You were not resisting me, my queen.” He dumped her gently from his lap into the warm scented water. He was still fully aroused, his manhood engorged with his lust.

Cinnia stared. “You are not satisfied,” she said. “And yet I was. Why?”

“I learned long ago how to prolong my desires,” Dillon told her. “I will make love to you again several times before we sleep. It pleases me to see you fulfilled, and there is time for me to reach that perfect state. We will relax together in the pool.”

The watery enclosure was square, and had a depth of five feet. On one side of it was a pink marble flower from whose center water sprayed forth. The ceiling was glass, and revealed the velvety-black night skies above them ablaze with stars. He noted to her that the sky they watched now was different from that he was used to in Terah, or his father’s palace of Shunnar.

“What is the biggest difference?” she queried him.

“I cannot see Belmair,” he said with a smile. “What is that bright star?” he pointed to a particularly bright orb almost directly above them now.

“That is Hetar,” she told him. “It is magnificent from afar, isn’t it?”

He nodded, agreeing. “It is.” Then he asked her, “Why do you have no siblings?”

“My mother died shortly after giving birth to me,” Cinnia said. “My father chose not to remarry although there were several women of suitable families who would have made him a good queen. But since king’s sons here in Belmair do not necessarily follow in their father’s footsteps he felt no great urge to sire a son,” Cinnia explained. “He wed late in his life, and might not have married at all but he saw my mother once, and fell in love with her. They were wed for over two hundred years before I was born, and I was quite a surprise to them I can assure you.” She chuckled with her memories. “When a child was not born to them in the first years of their marriage they assumed they would never have one. Belmairans live a normal life span of several hundred years, but we age incredibly slowly,” Cinnia explained to him, for she could see he was somewhat confused.

“But you said you were seventeen,” Dillon said.

“I am,” she told him. “But I will live several hundred years if illness does not fell me first,” Cinnia said. “How long will you live?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “My father has lived since the beginning of time itself. My mother, being mostly faerie, should live for several hundred years. I suppose I will live at least as long as she does.” He swam across the pool to stand beneath the spray of water from the pink marble blossom. Their life spans were similar. He would not be forced like his mother to watch as Cinnia grew older, and he remained the same. It was likely that they would age together. Had the dragon and his father been aware of that, Dillon wondered? He would remember to ask Kaliq when next he saw him. Cinnia was looking at him, and the young king suddenly became aware of his throbbing member. He needed to couple with her again. He swam back to where she was awaiting him.

Cinnia leaned against the marble walls of the pool, enjoying the warm water as it lapped against her. This bathing had been a surprisingly good idea of his. She did feel more comfortable in his presence, and she was learning little bits and pieces about him. Her eyes closed and she listened to the flower fountain as it sprayed into the water. It was a most soothing sound. And then she sensed him. Her eyes flew open and he stood directly before her.

Taking her small face between his big hands, he kissed her slowly, lingeringly. “Now once more, my queen,” he told her.

She felt his hand cupping her bottom as he lifted her up.

“Wrap your legs about me, Cinnia,” he directed her.

As she did she felt his thick length pressing once again into her body. Cinnia sighed, clinging to him as he moved hungrily within her until she was dizzy with her own lust, and the pleasures being joined with him brought her. But then suddenly he withdrew from her, and she protested. “No, Dillon! No!”