Queen Yavara Ch. 16

"Good girl, Fifty-One." Mistress Leveria said as she stroked my piss-soaked hair, "Look into my eyes while you taste me. Look deeply into my eyes."

Mistress Leveria's nectar was sweet, her voice was soothing, her eyes were bottomless wells, the universe wrought in their depths. I felt her presence in my mind. It was a soft tingling in the base of my skull, slowly seeping through my cerebellum like warm heroin. My tongue gradually worked back and forth along her slit, automatic motions tuned to a command that came from within.

Then I wasn't there anymore. I was in a forest, but the rocks and trees were blurs beneath an orange twilight, casting the world in shadows and dim rays of sun. A songbird's whistle echoed on the wind, fading in and out of clarity, becoming both near and distant. There was a silhouette in the fog, androgynous and indiscernible. A woman was speaking in my ear, whispering truths I could not know with my waking mind. They carved themselves into my cognizance, then scarred without pain. Transient thoughts moved over the wounds like a tide over footprints in the wet sand, and the idea that had been imbedded there was lost to me. The silhouette in the fog faded, but I knew now its purpose. I was to go to it when the deed was done. When what deed was done? Where was I?

"Good girl, Fifty-One." Mistress said softly, "Here is your reward."

One of the men came up behind me and drove his cock into my gaping ass. My over-sensitized body reacted violently to the intrusion; my back wrenching into an arch, my hips pushing backward to take all that I could. I was too loose. Though the man sated my need for invasion, he could not fill me. I needed more. Mistress Leveria sensed my need through our connection, and like a benevolent god, gifted me with what my heart most desired. Another cock pressed into my ass, stretching me, throbbing alongside his brethren, writhing in contest with him, rubbing against my vile walls. I cried out against Mistress's slit, tears of ecstasy running down my cheeks. I slobbered my thanks over her petals, pressing my nose against her pearl to devour her insides. Her other hand entangled in my piss-matted hair, and she brought me deeper into her beautiful sex, giving me the privilege of serving her.

"Eat it, you filthy slut." Mistress Leveria's voice was a growl, but her gaze was compassionate. I complied with exuberance, pressing my face into her pubis until my chin was wet with her lust, and my tongue found the limits of its reach. I felt a man move beneath me, and I spread my legs wide to accommodate him, tightening the dual sodomy that churned my shithole into a spasming wreck. The man entered my cunt, sliding through my battered insides, pressing against his brethren from the other side. Oh god! My back dove into an arch, the weight of one man atop me, the hard press of another beneath me, by body encased in brutal, stinking, sweating man, my insides raped by it. I was in hell. I was in heaven. I ate Mistress's pussy like a starving whore, each pass of my tongue coercing sweet music from her mouth. Such beautiful sounds to come from such beautiful woman. I knew I did not deserve to even look at her, but I would do my best to please her! I watched her lips part to moan, her cheeks slackening and flushing, her chest rising and falling with her heavy breaths, one breast peaking from her scandalous neckline. I wrote my tongue across her ceiling as I sucked her folds, translating my violent violation into a sensuous kiss. Her moans became sonorous cries, her head tilted back, she wrapped her fingers in my hair, and she came. Her pelvis elevated, and my face elevated with it, never ceasing the motions of my tongue as she saturated my chin, neck and breasts with her release.

When her breath came back to her, she eased back onto the chair. Her demeanor changed. She looked down at me, and instead of the cruelty and compassion, I only saw disgust. My heart sank. What I had done wrong? What could I do to fix it? Mistress Leveria pushed my face off her, and strode away.

"Mistress!" I screamed, "I'm sorry!"

"Sorry for what?" She asked as she lit a cigarette.

"I don't know! I did something that you didn't like, but I don't know what!"

"You didn't do anything." Mistress said with a puff, "You're just... disappointing. I had been an admirer of yours from afar, one powerful woman to another, but it seems there's very little truth behind the legend of Prestira Rasloraca."

"I'm sorry!" I screamed as the men rammed into me, "Will you still let me come, Mistress?"

"I don't know, Fifty-One." Mistress eyed me, "You'll have to put on a good show for me."

She walked over to me and held the lit cigarette threateningly before my face. Gulping, I presented my cheek. She chuckled, shaking her head. Then she grabbed one of my wildly-jiggling breasts and put the burning end against my nipple. I cried out in agony and ecstasy, my eyes watering.

"Thank you, Mistress!" I cried.

Mistress Leveria lit the cigarette again. She took my other breast into her hand and slowly lowered the burning cigarette to my nipple. My head flew back, and my eyes widened, quivering in my sockets. I mouthed my thanks to her, my vision veiling pink, then red. She smiled down at me, not like before, but with a look of pure contempt. She lowered her face to mine, and my heart surged, my mouth parting to except the kiss of my mistress, my god. She grabbed my face, pushed my cheeks together and spit in my open mouth. How could I have been so foolish to think she'd kiss me? I was her property. I was her little toy. I was grateful for her spit.

The other two men came forward. Mistress grabbed them by the cocks and guided them to my mouth. My cheeks bulged as I tried to accommodate them both, my tongue slithering between their shafts. Mistress put another cigarette out on my back. My muffled scream sounded, my body shivering from heel to crown. The poison in my blood coursed through me, precluding the tide that rose from my nethers, the tide becoming a wave that built, and built, and built. I danced between the pressing bodies of my partners, writhing and wriggling, indulging in the gluttony of man. So much cock, and all for me! They grunted and growled, squeezing my ass, hips and breasts, pulling at my hair, slapping me. I gurgled around the men raping my gullet, each one taking their turn, bulging in my throat. Use me, masters. Use me like I want to be used. Fuck me to death!

I was at the precipice, cresting before the fall, but I couldn't come yet! I looked frantically over at Mistress Leveria, waiting for her permission. She smiled at me. She adjusted her dress and walked toward the portal. She wasn't going to let me come. She lied to me! Despair like I'd never know filled me, and I fell limply between my master's bodies, tears pouring down my cheeks.

Mistress Leveria turned around as she strode through the portal. "Give the bitch what she wants."

I gazed gratefully at her. She gave me a wink, then walked through the portal. It disappeared behind her, and I was left with my masters.

They ravaged me with brutal avarice, each man trying to tear his piece from me. I screamed and gagged, my body convulsed and thrashed, the men gripped me in my supple places, squeezing until it hurt. Their cocks pulsated and throbbed, stabbing into me with a fervency, turning our lust into a display of flailing hair and jiggling flesh. The pressure in my nethers grew to unimaginable heights, ballooning eternally, never stopping, never dissipating. I was a slave to it, awash in the sensation of the now. A whole day's worth of torture came to a head, and the dam within me burst. I hyperventilated, twisting and wrenching, kicking and heaving to expel the ecstasy too great for my mortal body. I hardly noticed them coming inside me, pulling out to splatter my flesh, my face, my hair. I was in my own world of sensation, the waves cresting and crashing one by one, surging through me all the way to the fingertips.

The feeling waned. My heart slowed. My mind regained itself. I wasn't Fifty-One; I was Prestira Rasloraca. I savored the post-sexual dopamine rush as the men moved from me, leaving me splayed and leaking on the floor in a puddle of my own making. I spit out what was left in my mouth. My hands were quickly forced behind my back and my fingers twined together. The gems were driven back into my temples. I was too weak to protest. They would just do the same thing tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day. I was myself now, but the moment they stuck me with that drug, I'd turn back into their slave. It was hopeless. I had just told Leveria everything she needed to know, and more. There was a blank spot in my memory; what had happened then? I searched my mind as the men bolted my shackles to the floor. Then they left, and Captain Timothy Two-Shot walked in, unbuckling his belt. I didn't acknowledge him as he walked toward me, his erection standing high. My mind was still searching for the missing memory when I numbly wrapped my lips around his cock.

What the hell did she do to me?

YAVARA

I saw the connection between Prestira and I. I screamed her name, but she didn't answer. I locked my eyes on the horizon, following the path of the connection through the waves. I saw the lights of the ship ten miles off. The connection disappeared a second later, but I had my target. I shot above the water like a missile, the air parting in front of me as I forced it forward, the water opening below me like a chasm. I closed in on my target in barely a minute, then stopped above the topsail. A pirate saw me and sounded the alarm. It didn't matter. I felt the power coursing through my veins, teeming with my wrath. I dropped onto the deck. A volley of arrows shot for me, and I stopped them all mid-flight. I turned them around, taking a moment to savor the horror on the men's faces before I fired. Ten bodies dropped.

The hatch opened, and the slavers poured out. Five dozen it seemed, making a circle around me, baring their jagged steel in the flickering torchlight.

"Put yer fuckin' hands up!" One of them shouted.

I lifted my arms overhead, and the ship lurched to a sudden stop. Men flew across the deck, crashing into each other, making piles against the railings and ballista. Their moans of pain sounded from everywhere, cries of 'we've run aground!' and 'Captain!' being shouted from the rafters above. For a moment, it was like they'd forgotten about me. Then a deep groan emanated from the bowels of the ship, and there was silence. All eyes looked to me. I could feel every board and nail that held the craft together, ever rope and knot that tethered it. I could feel the keel of the ship. I grabbed it with my mind, and pulled upward. The ship shook violently, vibrating as though grinding against a reef. Men cried out and charged me, then stopped. The ship lifted from the water. I strained under its weight, feeling the burden tax me of my energy, but the vessel ascended nonetheless. Seaweed and port streams flowed from the hull to splash the water's surface below, the dribbled to silence. The men gawked at me, horror and awe writ across their faces. They dropped their weapons and fell to their knees, begging for mercy. There would be no mercy. I planted my feet firmly onto the deck, and rotated the ship. The slavers clung to every mast and handle they could grab onto. They dangled as the ship turned completely upside down in the air. They begged me to stop, they pleaded with eyes full of panic. I just smiled back, and watched them fall. One by one, the men dropped, screaming into the crashing waves a hundred feet beneath me. Once the deck was empty, I turned the ship upright. I kept the vessel suspended in the air as I descended the steps of the hatch.

The hold was filled with women, all of whom were secured to the floor with shackles. They looked at me with glassy eyes, not sure what they were seeing. Prestira was not among them. I walked up the stairs and to the cabin. I opened the door to find Prestira strangling the captain with her shackles. She looked like an animal. Her racoon-eyes were wild and bulging, her split lip bared in a snarl, her desecrated body rigid with tension. I let her have her kill. Blood began to gurgle from the man's mouth and flow from his nose. The vessels in his eyes burst. He choked out his last gasp, then died staring at nothing. Prestira collapsed onto the deck, sobbing into her folded arms. I ripped the shackles from her with my mind and pulled her into an embrace. She vented into my arms as I gently stroked her back, my fingertips running over welts, burns and lacerations. She was covered in filth, her wrists and ankles were raw, her knees and elbows were scraped and bruised. I held her firmly against me, murmuring soft love into her ear as tears ran down my cheeks. I touched the gems on her temples, and paused, afraid of what I would find in her mind. Then the shame of such cowardice compelled me, and I pulled the gems from her temple and was flooded with her thoughts. Whips, chains, wax. The rough wood of the deck, the snarl of a human man. Pain. Needles, horrific desire, unspeakable debasement. An elf woman's face. Leveria had been here. She had coerced information from Prestira. She did something horrible to her. Prestira cried her regret. She said she was weak. She was sorry. No. I was weak. I am sorry. "I am so sorry, Prestira." I hissed.

She cast a healing spell over body, and her flawless beauty shined from her. But I could see the scars plainly behind her eyes when she tried to put on a brave face. I let her have her pride. She told me she had to free the slaves from the hold. I told her to send them to Ardeni Dreus; this was their ship now. They could sell it and rebuild their lives with earnings. "Tell the high-elves that the Dark Queen freed them. Tell the dawn-elves they'll always have a place in Alkandra." Prestira left me, needing to find her strength in solitude. When the door closed behind her, I looked at the mirror. I looked at it for a long time. I knew I shouldn't, I knew it played right into her hand, but I couldn't stop myself. I pressed my hand against the glass. An extravagant empty room shown on the other side. I recognized it with a violent pang of nostalgia; it was my father's office. No, not Father's office. Not anymore.

"Leveria?" I called softly.

Nothing.

"Leveria," I called, "it's your sister."

The door at the far end of the room creaked opened. Leveria's profile stood in the threshold, a plush pink bathrobe adorning her body, a towel wrapping her hair. She stared at me with mouth agape, then quickly found control of her face. Removing the towel from her platinum mane, she cautiously stepped to the mirror, and sat in the chair. Her delicate regel features were washed of makeup, and her signature hooped earrings were removed, but her eyes were as sharp as ever, studying me intently. I smiled, and she smiled back.

"Yavara," she poured herself a glass of wine, "you look different."

"Do you like it?" I spun around, showing her the body she's been jealous of for so many years, "I think it suits me."

"It has an exotic appeal." Leveria conceded, "Where is Prestira? Or should I call her Fifty-One?"

"She's freeing the slaves in the hold." I kept my smile fixed, "I wonder how your people will take it when I show them Captain Two-Shot's manifest. A slave ship bound for Bentius with high-elves in cargo? That should go over well."

"Oh, you know how this works." Leveria chuckled into her wine glass, "Deny, redirect, attack the source, discredit the speaker. I've made a career off ruining the reputations of those in my way. You were easy; you'd already done most of the work for me." Leveria paused, cocking her head slightly, her smile broadening. "Mother was a little harder."

"The moment I heard of her death," I said, my smile fading, "I knew it was you. I don't know why you always hated her. She was a good mother. She loved you in her own way."

"She might have loved me when I was a child, but I aged like vinegar in her eyes. She told Father I was too ambitious, that I wanted too much too soon. She thought I was a threat." Leveria sipped her wine, "She was right."

"How?" I said, my voice shaking slightly, "How did you twist Father against her? What lies did you tell him?"

"Oh, I didn't have to tell him too many lies." Leveria said, stirring her drink, "The fatal shot was really just the truth: Mother fucked a monster." Leveria looked up at me, "Did you know that?"

I nodded.

"Well I just sprinkled a conspiracy theory on top, and Father had her executed." Leveria smiled sweetly, "Simple."

"Then Father just gave you the throne on a silver platter, huh?" I said, trying to remain calm, "You did something to him; Father would never trust you with so much."

Leveria giggled, a sound that was girlish and menacing. "You always assumed Father loved you the most, Yavara. You were always the apple of his eye, the son he never had. You thought that just because he doted on you, he loved you more than I?"

"I know he did," I sneered, "and so do you."

"Oh Yavara!" Leveria laughed shaking her head, "Oh, my sweet little sister. Mother was blind to what was going on, but I thought you must have known."

"Known what?!" I growled. Leveria's eyes twinkled, knowing in that instant that she'd won. I should never have done this. I was out of my depth. I contemplated ending the conversation right there, but I couldn't. My own nature betrayed me, and Leveria used it so easily as her ally.

"You never once noticed the way Father looked at me?" Leveria asked, provocatively crossing her legs, "You never once wondered why we'd disappear for hours, or why my bedroom was moved to the high tower just a few steps from his office? Are you connecting the dots?"

"There was no way. Father would never..."

"You know Clartias Tiadoa as the warm benevolent patriarch who gave you everything you wanted." Leveria looked pitiably at me, "I know him as the sick twisted man he really is. I love him for who he is, and that's why he loves me. That's why his child grows in my belly." Leveria rested her hand on her stomach.

I couldn't call her a liar. For as I sifted my memories of my father, I saw the leer in his doting gaze, the coldness in his compassionate eyes. Eyes just like Leveria's, beautiful and merciless. I saw the mask he wore for me, and witnessed in dry dismay as each memory of him became corrupted with the truth. A knot formed in my throat, and I tasted the reflux from my belly, the nausea threatening to try to expel the horrible realization from my mind.

"So you see Yavara," Leveria continued, smiling at my shocked face, "I didn't need to convince Father to abdicate, he did it through his volition, because he loves and trusts me. And now he hates you more than anything in this world."

"You two are perfect for each other." I said through gritted teeth, "You sick fucking cunt."

"I know what I am." Leveria said, still smiling sweetly, "I made sure Mother knew too. The night before she hung, I went to our precious mother's cell. I tortured her like I tortured Prestira. I had no reason to do it other than to watch her suffer, and she suffered, Yavara; oh, she did. I wish you could've seen her break. It was like... like watching a rose succumb to rot. I took everything from her, and when she was at her lowest, I promised her mercy. Then I killed her."

I held back my tears, biting my cheeks hard to keep my face straight. I knew Leveria was telling me the truth. I had no retort for it, no ground to claim. It was a mistake talking with her. I could take over people's minds with magic, but Leveria could break their will with just words. I stood stupidly, looking at my sister's implacable smile, those hate-filled sapphires above it.