Demon Prince of Mangala Ch. 04

With sudden aggression she reversed position, pushing him down onto the bed, straddling him. He fell back beneath her.

"See how you like it," she laughed.

Her mouth closed over his nipples, her pointed little tongue flicking over his flesh, her hands kneading his muscles, luxuriating in the feel of him.

"Mmm. I think I could get used to it," he said, hands above his head, his eyes meeting hers over his chest, her tongue licking a path along his torso. Her hands fell on the bulge in his uniform pants, her eyes flashing.

Smiling wickedly she undid his belt, tugging his pants down - his erection springing free.

"Ah, now isn't that better?" she said, sighing.

Her hand closed about the base of his cock, gently stroking it, kneeling over his legs, trapping them.

"Much..."

Slowly she lowered her head to his cock, her little tongue poking out so that it just touched the very end. Her eyes met his over the oozing head.

"What shall I do now, Highness?"

He could feel her breath on his sensitive flesh, the tip of her tongue tasting him. His cock was so hard it was almost painful.

"I think you should suck it..." he said, breathlessly.

With agonising slowness she closed her lips over the head, her tongue licking around the sensitive flesh - soft and warm and so very sexy. Gradually she slid her mouth down along his cock before sucking her way back up.

She lifted her mouth clear, a string of saliva and fluid dripping from her mouth.

"Is that what you meant, Highness?" she said, all innocence but her eyes wicked.

"Oh, you bitch...yes, yes that is what I meant..."

Smiling a thoroughly evil smile, she bent to his cock again, taking him in her mouth once more. This time she worked him in earnest, her mouth pumping along the length of his cock, her tongue circling his head, her full lips slathered in his juices.

"Oh, Katya... That feels so good... Ah, fuck..."

She smiled around his cock, licking it from bottom to top, then lifting her head once again.

"Uh uh. This time you get to wait until I cum!"

Kneeling above him she shucked her jacket, slowly shedding her uniform, her body slim, athletic, tanned to golden tones.

"Oh, you vindictive little monster."

For a moment, laughing, she struggled to remove her boots then her pants were gone, too, and her underwear quickly followed the rest of her clothes onto the floor.

When she returned to the bed he was naked too, his pants thrown in a heap over the desk.

All teasing forgotten now they fell on one another - flesh pressed to flesh, his body hard and warm against hers. By artifice or accident she ended up on top, once more, straddling him. His cock standing erect between them, her cunt wet on his legs.

She lowered her body onto him, rubbing her sensitive tits against his torso like a cat. She kissed him once again on his lips, chaste, her hand reaching for his cock - guiding it into her waiting cunt.

Eyes fixed with her own, she gradually lowered herself onto him, watching his pleasure light in his gaze. She felt him filling her, pressing into her flesh and she moaned, her passion reflected in his eyes. As before his power seeped into her - soft, sensual, so seductive - possessing her spirit as his cock possessed her body. In its wake her every nerve seemed to be tingling, pleasure shivering through her flesh. It was overwhelming. It was as if there was nothing beyond that moment - no future, no past - her body thoroughly alive, shivering with ecstasy.

She moaned in pleasure, arching her back, sliding herself against him.

They didn't speak - their mouths pressed together in a single unbroken kiss - but the room was filled with the wet sound of their fucking, their gasps, moans, the sound of their breathing and, all the while, kissing - soft meaningless whispers of passion.

She felt her climax mounting, his fingers on her ass sliding into the moist flesh between her cheeks, his other hand slipping down her belly, into her cunt. Desperately she thrust her body down onto his cock, her desire driving her harder and harder. She felt alive like never before - as if all of life beyond the feelings shooting through her was but a shadow - helpless in the grip of her passion.

"Oh my God," she gasped.

His finger teased around her asshole, gently pushing her open. For a moment she tensed, then his other hand was on her cunt, his finger pressing gently on her clit.

She moaned, gasping with passion, felt his finger slip into her ass.

"Oh, fuck."

She felt possessed. His tongue was in her mouth, his cock deep inside her, his fingers dancing in her cunt - driving her wild - his finger in her asshole - gently slipping into her; his spirit touching her soul, feeding her passion - naked lust.

"Oh, please... Oh, fuck..."

Her hands gripped him, clutching his shoulders, gripping his head. She needed him, wanted him...

"Oh, God... Oh, God... I'm cumming..."

Frantically she drover her body back onto his cock, his fingers deep in her ass now, pressing urgently into her clit.

"Ah, fuck..."

Her breath escaped in a ragged moan, felt his cock spasm a response deep inside her.

Then her climax swept over her, the power of it convulsing her, twisting her against him. She felt it matched by his - hot fluid shooting into her - clinging to one another as wave after wave shook them.

Then they were panting and gasping together on the bed, skin slick with sweat - pressing together, clutching one another as if their very lives depended upon it; laughing, crying. When the passion finally receded they found themselves washed together, their limbs twined as one, her head cradled on his shoulder, eyes locked together mere breaths apart.

She kissed him then - gently, almost shyly - her hand caressing his cheek, a faraway look in her eye.

"You need to be in the Lord Prince's staff room for twelve noon," she said, giggling suddenly.

Andrey glanced at the clock on the wall - eleven forty-five.

"Shit," he said, struggling to extract himself. "Come on...get dressed, quick."

"What?"

"Oh, you don't get off that easily - not out of my sight, remember?"

With that he grabbed the cover from the bed and lifted it suddenly, dumping her, squealing onto the floor.

******

At twelve noon the two of them were at the staff room door, making a reasonable impression of two people who haven't just been fucking. Andrey raised his hand to knock, smiled at Katerina.

She smiled, a little coyly, then reached up and kissed him quickly on the lips.

He knocked.

"Enter."

The staff room was bright with sunlight from several tall multi-lit windows along the wall, their diamond panes stained to filter the light into golden hues. Above, a domed cathedral ceiling rich with patterns representing the Nine picked out in gold reflected the light. Before them a long table, polished to a deep shine stretched the length of the room. At its far end sat Lord Prince Mikhail Ilyitch, Count Alexander hovering in the background like a bearded vulture.

Andrey bowed, his every movement rich with grace and power. Rather less elegantly, Katerina hurried to follow suit.

"You summoned me, Lord Prince."

With Andrey present the dynamic seemed to have changed. Lord Prince Mikhail Ilyitch still had all the warmth of a glacier and Count Alexander still glared malice at her, but there was a new wariness about them now that Andrey was present. They found something about him unsettling, unnerving, she thought.

"Yes, I did." Mikhail fell silent, his attention fixed on a pile of documents before him. For a long while the silence in the room was broken only by the scratching of his pen on the paper.

Discreetly positioned at the back and around the sides of the room were a half dozen soldiers in the uniforms of bodyguards: faces flat, unreadable.

For his part Andrey was quite content to glare maliciously at Count Alexander who, she noted, steadfastly refused to meet his eyes. Having been on the receiving end of those eyes, she could understand his fear; it was certainly worth knowing.

"Three days ago soldiers from the Dragomirov estate intercepted a woman crossing the wall. At first they thought she might be part of a smuggling ring, or a black marketeer. But when they searched her they found this," he said, handing Andrey a folded paper.

Andrey opened it, his face neutral.

"As you can see, it's a message between smugglers in the wastes and one of our noble families." He leaned back in his chair, one finger tapping the pile of papers before him. "I'd like very much to learn the identity of that House."

"Yes, Highness."

"The smuggler is being held in the Dragomirov kremlin dungeons. Go there. Do what you have to do...get me that name."

"Highness."

"And Andrey, this time," he said, looking pointedly at Katerina, "try to follow instructions. If you succeed, I might forget about your last disobedience. Do I make myself clear...to you both?"

"Yes, Highness." Katerina mumbled her agreement.

"Good. Don't let me keep you."

And with that they were dismissed.

Outside, Katerina grabbed Andrey's arm.

"Is that all I am to him? All my life is worth...a token to persuade you to do his bidding?"

Andrey looked pensive, folded the letter and tucked it into his pocket.

"Yes," he paused, his eyes faraway. "Ask yourself what that really means before you get too upset."

"Too upset?" she said, angry now. "It means you're all fucking monsters, that's what it means, Prince."

******

They took a flyer to the Dragomirov Kremlin. It was situated at the northwestern tip of the plateau, forming part of the necklace of fortifications that surrounded its fertile lands. Beyond the kremlin the wastes stretched without limit.

For most of the long journey they had been silent, the handful of soldiers they'd brought content to let them brood. Finally, able to stand it no longer, Katerina crossed to sit next to him and took his hand in her own.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have said that. He just scares me..."

Andrey remained silent for a while, holding her hand tightly. "I promised I'd look after you. I will," he said finally.

"I know," she said, looking out of the window of the flyer. "I'm just not used to living in this way. I'll get used to it."

Below she watched the plateau pass beneath her, fields turning to forest and - in the distance - signs of cultivation.

When she turned back he was looking at her with a peculiar intensity.

"You know what it is I do, Katya."

She nodded. "I know what you do."

"If not me, they would put her to the question - a lot less pleasant, less precise."

"Why are you telling me this?" She squeezed his hand. "I know what's going to happen."

"I'm no monster, Katya."

She smiled. "I only said you were a couple of times."

Andrey laughed quietly, little genuine amusement in the sound.

The kremlin of the Dragomirov family was only a fraction of the size of Azarov Kremlin. A simple citadel surrounded by a wall and adjoining the massive barrier that circled the plateau. They circled once, seeing figures below dashing about, pointing skyward, then settled in an open area just inside the outer walls.

By the time they were ready to depart a small group had gathered around the flyer, mostly black clad soldiers with a green stallion badge on their breasts, although other figures could be seen running from the kremlin in the distance toward them.

The soldiers exited first, forming a double file before the flyer's doors. Katerina stepped out next, wearing her black uniform, casually joining the soldiers before Andrey exited, again wearing his uniform - gold prominent in the braiding on his shoulders, the piping on his trousers, the dragon on his chest.

By the time he reached the floor a portly man with a balding head had reached them, panting and huffing in his plain black uniform - slightly longer than Andrey's tailored fit.

"Lord Prince," he said, mopping his head with a kerchief. "Please be welcome. We've been expecting you."

Despite his welcoming words he looked decidedly uneasy, Katerina thought.

"Thank you, Prince. I trust that everything is as it should be?"

"Yes, Highness." He led the way across the open ground towards the kremlin. "Would you like to see her now or perhaps some refreshment first?"

He mopped his head again, puffing, his face florid.

"It's been a long journey, Prince," Andrey said, smiling. "Perhaps some food and drink first, yes?"

"Of course, Highness."

Although well appointed, it was clear that the Dragomirov family was struggling to keep standards. The decor of the kremlin was tired, slightly frayed about the edges. They entered the main keep through an open doorway into a large rough stone hall scattered with long tables. Servants in livery were rushing to lay the table, bustling back and forth to the kitchens behind.

"Highness, I will ensure that food and drink is brought for your men," he said. "Perhaps we could retire to my drawing room?"

Andrey nodded assent.

The drawing room was more comfortable than the main hall - a small room with a fireplace, a set of French windows opening on to an enclosed garden withing the walls, a handful of comfortable chairs and sofas, a table.

A thin woman - about fifty or so, Katerina thought - was sitting in the room. She rose as they entered, her long dresses rustling as she moved.

"My wife, the Princess Olga," Yuri said. Olga bowed low with a further rustle of fabric.

"Charmed, Princess," said Andrey, ghosting a bow. "My bodyguard, the Lady Katerina." Indicated her with his hand.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Katerina," Yuri said. "You are welcome in our house."

Food and wine was brought and, for a while, there was light conversation, the four of them reaching a silent accord to avoid talking business during lunch. Katerina did no more than pick her food. For some reason being here now, with Andrey, like this - it was both too much like the life she wanted and too much like a reminder of the one he had taken from her. The woman, the prisoner, could so easily have been her. What was she feeling - was she as scared as Katerina had been? Waiting, not knowing for what or for how long before they came for you? She was no sorceress, Katerina would have felt her, was that better or worse?

"Where is the prisoner now?" Andrey said, breaking her mood.

"Below, in the dungeon."

Yuri mopped his brow - a nervous habit, she thought.

"Has anyone questioned her?"

"Uh, no, Highness. Once we found the message we sent word straight to the Lord Prince."

"Good. And my quarters?"

"I have had the guest suite prepared," he said, looking at Katerina. "Will your, ah, bodyguard need a separate room?"

Andrey stared at Yuri for a long while, his face icy, punishing his impropriety - the florid prince fidgeting uncomfortably under the scrutiny.

Finally. "Yes, Prince, she will. See to it. Once that is done I will see my rooms and then the prisoner."

******

The prisoner was a thin woman, short with dark eyes and hair cut in a ragged bob. Chained to the wall by her wrists, she watched Andrey warily as he paced about the dank cell.

No more than two paces in any direction, the only light came through the now open door - showing a floor strewn with filthy rushes and rough stone walls slick with damp. Located deep beneath the kremlin it was chill and damp and Katerina felt a fleeting sympathy with the chained woman. She must be petrified, she thought, though if she was she showed little sign.

"You know me?" Andrey said.

The woman nodded, her eyes half closed against the light from the door.

"Good. That will make things easier. Will you tell me your name?"

The woman shook her head.

"No matter. That will be one of the things we shall discuss. Before I go to that trouble, will you answer my questions now?"

The woman looked away, her silence eloquent.

"As you wish," he said. Then aside, to the prince. "I will see my quarters now. Once I am ready have her brought to me there."

"Yes, Highness."

"Oh, and Yuri, clean her up first, yes."

******

The window of the guest suite looked out over the inner courtyard of the kremlin, a small balcony affording a better vantage point. In the distance, beyond the walls of the kremlin, the wastes were visible as a red smudge, the twin moons skeletal against the blue sky though the sun was barely dimmed. He had always felt an affinity with the moons, had found peace in their contemplation since his youth. On most evenings it had become his habit to stand thus on his own balcony, the duality of his soul finding its mirror in their light. Or at least so he fancied.

As had become usual of late he found his thoughts returning to Nataliya. It had been a similar night with a similar view when he had stolen - no, not stolen, claimed - his kiss. Since then...

A knock at the door pulled him back from his reverie.

The interior of the guest suite was modest. A simple pair of rooms, one a chamber with a sunken bath and a toilet; the other a bedroom with a four poster bed, a desk, a chair, a chaise longue - all in shades of lemon and white. Refreshing if a little predictable.

The prisoner was escorted by two soldiers, her hands still chained before her. She wore a simple grubby tee-shirt in grey with a similarly grubby pair of denim jeans, bare feet. In the better light of the room he guessed her to be in her early thirties. Maybe late twenties. No taller than five foot two, slight build verging on skinny.

With her chains removed he dismissed the guard, locking the bedroom door behind her, trapping her inside with him.

Andrey sat on the edge of the desk, looking her up and down.

"Would you like a drink? There's wine here...water?"

She looked at him suspiciously, her face nervous.

"Water," she said quietly, her voice a little rough.

Andrey poured water into a silver goblet, handed it to her. She drank it hurriedly, liquid dribbling down the side of her mouth. He refilled it, waited while she drank another, then a third.

"Better?"

She nodded. "What are you going to do to me?"

"That depends on you." He pulled out the folded paper with the message on it, the words scrawled in black ink. "I need to know which House is engaged in the illegal trade of old tech, how that trade is managed. What happens to you depends on how quickly you decide to answer me."

"If I refuse?"

Andrey smiled. "I will seek to persuade you."

For a while they stood in silence, Andrey watching her thoughts play across her face.

"So, will you answer my questions?"

For a second she was still, then he saw her eyes dart to the window, wondering if escape lay that way. With a cry she swung her gobblet at his head, already lunging for the window.

Faster than a spike of adrenaline Andrey felt his demonic soul twist to life - infernal power ripping through him. In one smooth motion he slipped back from her blow, his foot sweeping her legs out from under her, sending her sprawling to the floor with a rush of exhaled breath.

"Okay, we'll do it this way then."

In two steps he was on her, grabbing her around the waist, hurling on to the bed. She flailed helplessly for a moment, still gasping for breath after her fall. He pushed her face down onto the bed, pressing his knee into her back.

She struggled uselessly to throw him off, grunting with the effort. Slowly, lifting her tee shirt with one hand, he used his bootknife to cut the shirt from collar to waist, letting it fall open to show her bony back, the strap of her bra. He looked down on her naked back - reaching into himself, feeling the power flow into him.

His knee was right in the small of her back, like a rod of iron. No matter what she did she couldn't budge it. Helplessly she clawed at the bed covers, straining. Felt her shirt being lifted, the sound of cutting and her back felt cold - exposed. Oh my God, he was going to cut her!