Slathaar: Invasion Ch. 02

I eye her. Mariam does not take her responsibility lightly. For her to go drinking the night before we set out is highly unusual. But the stress of what we all undertake is crushing, and she's coping the best she can. But there's still tension in the set of her shoulders. In the slight unravelling of control in the back of her eyes.

As it happens, I know how to provide stress relief. We've been together for three years, after all. I pull my belt from its loops, and look at Mariam. She sighs softly, and her lips form a soundless yes.

"Hands and knees, Mariam," I instruct, and she obeys wordlessly.

"Don't scream," I warn her. "There's only so much noise the sound of the oars will mask." There's the usual noise there is on the warship. The sound of the wind whistling through the sails. The drum beats providing the rhythm for the rowing. The steady up-and-down slap of the oars. The muttered chatter of two hundred people. Ardef's voice shouting instructions.

She nods, and I bring the belt down on her naked ass. A red welt immediately rises on her fair skin, and she stifles a moan, pushing her hand in her mouth to keep from making noise. I'm entirely unfazed. I know Mariam's limits well. The belt falls again, and she makes a small, whimpering noise this time that makes me want to drop the belt and gather her in my arms.

That's not what she needs. There's no logic or rhyme or reason for the things we need; the things that arouse us. To Mariam, this punishment with the belt will free her of tension for the moment. It will remove the weight of being responsible for the safety of six hundred, at least for a little while. And with that will come the fire of lust.

Mariam's pain doesn't arouse me. It's the whimper. It's her willing submission that is an aphrodisiac for me. And she moans, and wriggles her ass as the belt descends, and I can see her juices begin to gather. The scent of her wanting fills the air. I smile to myself. Not long now.

Sure enough, four swift strokes later, Mariam gasps, and moves. "Please Overlord, stop," she grits out, and I stop and move in towards her.

"What do you need, Mariam?" I ask her, my voice ragged with the lust that I have held in check.

"I need you to take me hard," she says, looking at me.

"Lie back," I tell her. "Spread your legs."

I take her brutally hard. Her face contorts in pain for my first few strokes, but her body responds, and her grip on my arms tighten, and she moves her hips with me, rocking me deeper and deeper into her body. She groans softly as I slam into her, again and yet again. But her eyes are open, and their message is clear. Again. More. I oblige.

My fingers move to her clitoris and she whimpers in helpless lust as I force her to a quick climax. I feel her clench around me, and my fingers keep moving, relentless, till she gasps out a no.

"Are you refusing me your body?" My voice is dangerous.

She shakes her head quickly. "My apologies, Overlord," she says. She laughs, a pained amusement that ends in a whimper as I rub her clitoris hard. She comes again, in clenching waves around my dick, and I grit my teeth and hold back my urge to erupt. Not yet. I want her to come once more for me.

Her nails dig into my biceps, and she makes a soft, keening noise as she grinds into my fingers. "Don't stop," she begs, and I laugh.

"I wasn't planning on it, sweet one," I assure her as I pull out and slam back into her body. She bites her lower lip, and curves her legs around my hips, holding me in her body. I shake my head, and smack her thighs hard, and she grins and pulls them back, laying splayed open for me to take.

She winks at me. "Your will, Overlord," she says sweetly, and I growl at her words, and I move within her, and as she arches in climax one last time, I join her.

***

"You know," she points out, wincing as she lies on her stomach, and lacing her fingers in mine. "You refused to pour wax on my clitoris last night. Something about needing me effective. I can't see how beating my ass so hard that I'm going to have difficulty sitting down isn't doing the same thing."

I raise my eyebrow. "You really must have more faith in me, Mariam," I chide. I show her the little bottle of lotion that Meagan has given me for my palm. "Don't tell Meagan though, I'll get in trouble," I tell her, reaching over and massaging a tiny bit of lotion into her sore, red ass. There's healing magic in that cream. Mariam's discomfort will fade by the morning.

"What did she give you the lotion for?" she asks me. The ingredients for Meagan's potion are extraordinarily difficult to get, especially now as the island nations that are Slathaar's neighbors are massing in war against us.

I show her the cut on my palm silently.

"Who?" All Slaathans know that the cut signifies an oath of fealty.

"Ormr," I say, my tone slightly curt. I don't want to talk about why Ormr swore fealty. I don't want to think about the Arianne. Not now. Right now, I want to draw this beautiful woman into my body, and forget the cares of the world for a little while.

Her brow furrows at my tone, and she has every right to be irritated at me. But she smiles lazily, and moves into my body. She knows I'll tell her about it soon enough. For starters, because I trust her implicitly. But also, she is a member of my inner council, and as the Second-in-Command of the Armies of Slathaar, she has earned her right to know of matters that are important to the realm. "I should go," she says. "I've neglected my responsibilities for long enough."

"Stay," I tell her. "Things seem to be in order, and we don't reach Neavis for another two days." Our boats will dock on land where we can. If nothing else, so that the soldiers can sleep under shelter. We can choose a more direct route to Arianne, and reduce the journey by a month, easily, but a two-month journey on the open seas, with no shelter from the elements will sap our strength. Though I itch at the delay, the longer journey is the better journey in the face of what lies ahead.

***

Aldis:

I dream of Hagan that night.

In my dream, I go to my tent, and he is there, and I unpin my hair back and shake it loose, and I frown and relay the words of the Council to him. About how any possible marriage alliance with the Arianne would likely involve enslaving my betrothed.

Hagan isn't listening. His eyes are on my body. "It has been a while, Aldis," he says, his eyes intent.

I smile at him, a trace of shyness in my gaze. I have been away in Temra for nearly a month, while Hagan guards Kanata. I have missed my love.

"What does my beloved want from me?" I ask him softly.

His mouth curls in a familiar wry smile. "For starters, you could take off your clothes," he suggests. He lies back on the bed, propped up on one elbow, and watches me as I slowly take off my gown.

In my dream, my gown is crimson red. The colour that a bride would wear on her wedding night.

In my dream, his hands travel all over my body.

In my dream, he worships me, and I worship him, and we exult in each other.

In my dream, as he erupts in me, he leans close to me, and he looks deep into my soul. "Can you truly enslave someone, love?"

In my dream, I see the tears gather in my eyes. "I do what I have to do for the good of our people," I reply softly.

He shakes his head at me. "The first and deepest loss is the loss of one's soul." And then he fades, and I am left bereft once again.