Authors: Kayleen Knight
‘If you can free yourselves from your clothes,’ Crystal began, ‘
then I will warm what you free in whatever way you like.’
She delicately traced a single fingertip down the muscles of their stomach, stopping at the edge of the fabric and dancing there for a moment, eyeing the way that her touches seemed to drive the pushing cocks harder and harder. The men began to breathe heavier, and when she stepped toe to toe with the blond one, pushing her breasts against his chest, the man’s loins were thrown off with a final rise of his cock, unhooded and unbound.
‘Very good.’
She took it in her hands and looked to the other man, the beauty with the long straight hair, and she showed him what would be done to his cock if he was strong enough to push himself free as well. With each stroke he seemed to suffer at the abrasions, but when Crystal got down on her knees to receive the freed man with her mouth, the second
loincloth was removed with vigor.
Bashir sat straight up, titillated by the interplay, and took a deep bite of a wet peach with eyes searching for another even wetter peach between Crystal’s legs.
‘You are wondrous,’ he said softly, his eyes dancing with the applause of a cynical man who felt rejuvenated by the hunger before him.
But Bashir was only the first of many to engage her that evening. Several more of the suitors were still finding their way to her bedroom to introduce themselves and make their displays of wealth, beauty
, or subjugation in order to win over Crystal’s favor.
The moment Bashir left her quarters another man came inside completely nude, and displayed himself without the slightest consideration of his own unattractive physique. The man had a potbelly and hairs spread over every inch of him. Although he worked his tiny cock with admirable effort, Crystal could not help but laugh the suitor out of her room and then hastily apologize for her hurried schedule.
‘I am not available just yet,’ she giggled.
Her schedule prevented her from seeing any
one else tonight before she got her beauty rest.
This was, of course, a lie, and for the next several hours she was disturbed by four different suitors who all seemed as eager as could be to impress her, woo her, or some messy combination of the two. She received white princes, black lo
rds, brown high born noblemen, and one man of such strange tone that she could not immediately place him. She was showed cocks of such length they could be mistaken for painful, carts of gold that took several men to pull, and the promise of a fruit that could make anyone be overcome with lust.
Crystal denied them all. She kept her quarters locked and deciding instead to luxuriate in the spoils Bashir had brought for her. She had been given precious little time to enjoy her own awakening without the rougher needs of others intruding into its sensuality.
She drew herself a bath, closed and latched the window to her door, and laid out a banquet for herself.
A single drawn breath intoxicated her with the aromas.
A single bite from any piece of fruit send her thoughts spinning with the mouthwatering certainties of hungers that were just as eloquent in the mouth as they were down below, deep inside, where primordial urges lay in wait.
The sensations of bathing had become sexual ever since her awakening, and she did not need to ply herself to masturbate in the joys of her own stimulations. She needed to only trace her skin, dip her hand
, and smell the perfumes of the soap. She turned on the warm faucet and leaned back into the waters as they steamed the bathroom stall, drifting blotches of red heat roses across her white porcelain skin.
She barely heard the next man when he came knocking on her door.
But he was more persistent than the others, and before long Crystal could not ignore him. The visitor she received after laying into bed, her body newly washed, shaven and perfumed, was not the one she had been expecting. By this time she had received so many polite knocks and questions of reception that she was jaded to the circumstances and shouted whoever it was away after the tenth inquiring wrap upon the wood of her door.
‘I will see you in the morning!’ she called. ‘I must have my rest.’
Silence answered. Then the familiar voice of the rogue Rafael came into her room – a voice that was steam from the pot of a cooked meal, and she, a woman starved for it. She leapt from her bed immediately and unlatched the door, although a part of her worried that it was some horrible trick her family was playing in order to teach her another lesson about her responsibilities.
She half expected to find the rogue in manacles, handcuffs
, and hood, surrounded by her father’s men, who had been ordered to execute him in order to bend her to the will of her family. But instead she threw the door open on this single mischievous man, who came to her dressed in the same clothes he had been given in prison. In his hand was a rolled up message with the insignia printed on all royal proclamations made by her father, their lord. The scene was so startling that Crystal did not quite know how to take it.
She found herself stammering, unable to put these disparate pieces together. The note did not make sense with the man, and the man’s release from prison made no sense with what she knew of her family, and the fact that guards had escorted him here in public view was the most troubling thing of all. She knew she was in the orchestrations of someone above her – her father or her mother, surely, but she could not figure out what those orchestrations were.
‘Your family has some very interesting plans for you,’ he remarked coolly, entering her room and quickly making himself at home.
Flustered, Crystal peeked out of the doorway to make sure that nobody was following, or even approaching, and then swiftly shut it and stamped down the fires in her loins that burned at the thought of his first night in her bedroom. Her mind racing, her tongue catching, she managed to speak whatever little thing she could muster in the face of this surprise.
‘How did you get out of prison?’ she asked. ‘What kind of trick is this?’
‘It is a trick,’ he replied. ‘A rather good one, too. Read the message.’
She fumbled for the scroll and nearly dropped it. She broke her father’s insignia, made of cooled wax stamp, and then she unrolled the message, thanking her stars that she had been allowed to learn how to read at a young age.
The letter began with no niceties; no warm welcoming that addressed Crystal like a daughter, rather than a slave. The entire note was a formality, and through those formalities it explained to her that the rogue had been released from the prisons as a gift to her whims. He would be allowed to accompany her to whatever kingdom belonged to her suitor. He would not be allowed as part of the official marriage, but could be kept under the confines of a slave or servant to her. The note promised that whichever suitor she chose would be briefed on this stipulation, and would readily agree so long as it meant that he was officially the husband of the prized ‘crystal’.
‘What does this mean?’ she asked, dumbfounded.
‘It means that I have been sold to you,’ Rafael replied with a shrug.
And that, in turn, meant a great many things.
For a little moment in time Crystal became vulnerable, and it threatened to release the hysteria that sometimes overtook her level head when she paused long enough to truly consider her circumstances.
This much she knew: the kind and gentle lives she had heard about from storybooks would never be hers. Her true chastity had been broken when she was just a girl, blamed on a young servant boy who would fix her morning breakfast when the maid mothers were busy. Her virginity was only a symbolic thing, vestigial and tied with her figurehead, which was only the figure of a jewel to be claimed and worn and paraded about in view of the adoring public. People worshipped her for her gorgeous appearance and physical powers, but she had never truly been asked to join conversations and share secrets and ideas. She had been alone for of for her life, and used to that loneliness, choosing to find her company in the bodies of the people she chose to share her bed. Sometimes the thought of fucking would make her lonely, but other times it drove her into the insatiable creature that had awoken concurrently with her awakening, a dual spirit that inhabited Crystal’s loins – something ancient and hungry, full of sin and eager to give into every temptation it could find itself tingling and dampening for.
She had been given no friends growing up, and the notion that she could make friends with people who were not given to her had never truly occurred to Crystal, not because she was conceited, but because she knew of no other experience than the experience she had been born into.
If peasants were not possessed of enough wealth to change their circumstances, women of noble birth were not afforded enough experiences to truly change their perspectives. She was a spoiled woman, and would remain a spoiled woman because that was her foundation. It would not crack through any trial nor adulthood experience; the ways in which people had been reared were more engrained and deeply rooted than any drive to change, and so try as they might, change would never come with the dynamic ambitions that all great philosophers believed it must.
Crystal was an object, as she had been from the moment she was born, and her only choice was the choice of an object – decisions over who should wear her, and for what purpose. She could not find it in herself to truly sympathize with the plights of people outside her context, but in that selfishness she was glorious, singular in her vision and outfitted with the means to fulfill at least a reflection of that dream.
It was not a matter of intelligence or cleverness, only a matter of dexterity, and the ways in which men spoiled women like Crystal showed their dexterity was different than the rough and tumble backgrounds of the lowlier people who were not born with silver spoons and porcelain toiletries. Her dynamism was eerily political, and dangerously conditioned by the mannerisms of the royalty that had surrounded her for her entire life. It was not in Crystal’s character to feel shame and regret, for such things were only facades the rich donned to placate the masses beneath them from rioting at the thought that their queen was without a heart.
Crystal had sent servants into prisons and punishments; she had taken the heart of a man, and then seized on his freedoms, and she felt no sorrow in her heart for these outcomes. Quite oppositely, she was excited by the idea of owning Rafael the way that her inevitable suitor would own her – it was a kind of spiritual fairness that seemed to lighten the gravity of the burden Crystal had been suited with since the day it was discovered that she possessed the birthmark of the precious lineage that had made her mother such a valuable breeder for a man of her father’s ambitions.
Their coupling happened in a thoughtless instant, and then she was in the middle of him, and he, pressing into the center of her. Her hand moved with the swiftness of a snake tamer, drawing his cock towards her motions, with her motions, as if there was something supernatural between them. Her thrusts became stronger, harder, as if there was once again something possessing her, but it was only the prized second puberty of women from Crystal’s lineage – a second and final sexual awakening that wanted more, wetted for more, hungered for more, and ate as much cock and cum as it liked without ever getting full.
Her eyes blazed with her lust, and although her bedroom was dark with moonlight her eyes made lights all their own.
For a moment it seemed that her personality vanished in favor of something more elemental. Only Rafael remained left behind, equally startled and excited by the creature he held against him.
Rafael came to realize the full reality of what he had allowed happen to him as the result of his sneaking into the ceremony to have a look at the woman prized the world over, and although it frightened him, to know that he was given over to this creature, it also excited him with the strange perversion that whores had found to excuse their lifestyle with the adventurous arousals of a person who truly lived a stimulated life. He might find ways to complain, but his manhood could not, rising again and again for her to drain with her wet tongue or her wet vagina, gyrating over him with the warm squeeze of a python that wished to suffocate its prey – and a prey that wished more than anything else to be suffocated, and climaxed in the ecstasy of that firmest hug.
Without warning the creature turned underneath him, begging his contributions, and then he was between her legs, and the paradise of her scent intermixed with her sweat. Her pores opened in the heat of their passions and she filled the bedroom with her wondrous aroma.
‘What will you do?’ Rafael wondered. ‘Watch and learn,’ Crystal replied.
The family had secured their might with sons who were bred into the advisement of the greatest military minds, and ensured their wealth through their line of daughters – women of exceptional beauty, each of them named after a jewel or precious stone, each of them wrapped in clothes and gifted to hungry men in exchange for their loyalties, services or cooperation in the many maneuvers it had taken the family to secure a single kingdom in this harsh and unrelenting world – a single plot of land that was wholly theirs, and would not be sacrificed for any sake or morality.
A breathless statement for a home that did not defend itself with breath at all, but shrewd maneuvers. They paid lip service to the ethics that drove better people with more integrity, but in truth their mouths were for other delights – as Crystal handily demonstrated by slipping her tongue into Rafael, dancing it about, and then licking up the leaking her female power had salivated out of him.