Queen Yavara Ch. 48

YAVARA

Torturing Leveria wasn't pleasing to me; it wasn't even satisfying. When her shrieks of agony split the air, and she writhed in the perdition of her flesh, there was no joy in me; there wasn't even a fury like there'd been when I did my work on Adarian. There was only anguish now, and the more Leveria suffered, the more I did as well, but within the depths of my own darkness, in my anguish that danced with her agony, I found some measure of release, and that release gave me a moment of blessed peace. Only a moment. I had been awake all night. Even after I'd let Leveria rest, I'd stared up at the ceiling, and imagined the way Elena must've shrieked and begged while my dearest sister methodically cut the pieces away. A finger, a toe, a nose, an ear; the loss of feeling, the loss of taste, the loss of sight; the loss of everything that held her to this world. Such a horrific guidance to the void, and selfishly, I wondered if she had thought of me before the end.

I had the food set out on the floor. I sat cross-legged on a folded blanket, and ate delicately as Leveria walked cautiously toward me. She looked the vision of elven beauty with her statuesque frame and womanly curves, her elegant high cheeks and pointed nose, her impossibly-long neck and legs. We had both inherited our mother's beauty, but Leveria had truly inherited her body. Even now—wearing the leather slave outfit that bound her breasts until they were bulging, crisscrossed her back and belly with straps, and squeezed her robust thighs—she retained her elegance. I gestured for her to kneel on the blanket across from me, and she did so uncomfortably.

"One by one, I am going to kill those closest to you." I recited to her, "One day, you'll look upon the ashes of your kingdom and wonder where it all went wrong. You'll walk atop the carcasses of your fallen loved ones and stare blankly at their skulls. And then you'll see me, walking to you through the haze with arms outstretched. You'll embrace me as your sister, and I'll kindly slip the dagger between your ribs. And the last words you will utter on this earth will be 'thank you,' as you look upon my face. That was what you said to me, do you remember?"

"Yes." She said, her eyes downcast.

"I guess it didn't happen like that."

"I guess not."

I leaned forward. "You thought you were so clever, the chess master of Tenvalia, the schemer of schemers. Now look at you."

"I lost." She muttered.

"That's an understatement."

"I always knew this would be the price of defeat. It would've been your fate had I won, so it should be mine now."

I cocked my head. "Leveria, was that contrition I heard?"

She looked up at me then, her big blue eyes unwavering. "Not for you."

I twisted my lips.

The bitch actually smiled at me. "What do you want from me, Yavara? A fucking apology? Torture me then. Make me blubber it out while I'm pissing and shitting myself, but when you look into my eyes, you'll know it's a lie. You can make me very, very sorry, but you'll never make me repentant, not to you."

I made Leveria snatch the knife from her plate, and bring the point slowly to her eye.

She giggled. "What is your fascination with blinding me? Don't you know that seeing what's being done to you is the true horror?"

"Are you giving me a lesson right now?"

"Just some sisterly advice."

I stopped the blade a fraction before her eye. "I could make you peel it." I said.

"That would be extremely painful." She said, watching me from behind the knife, waiting. With a sigh, I made her give me the knife, and I enjoyed for a second, the palpable relief that washed over her face. It was honest.

"Put your hands behind your back." I commanded, and she did so without my needing me to coerce her. With my mind, I laced her wrists with the leather straps that dangled from her belt, and tightened them. "Now you can eat." I said.

She looked down at the plate of eggs and bacon, then at the silverware I'd set out for her. She shrugged, dipped low from the hips, and began sloppily eating from her plate like a pig. I watched her, and she watched me, the food smearing all over her cheeks and nose, dribbling down her chin.

"You were always so dignified," I said, though without any relish, "now look at you."

When she swallowed the last mouthful, she licked her lips, wiped her face off on the towel, and sat upright on her knees. "Now look at me," she echoed with a smile, "Dignified? Me?! Yavara, if you had witnessed the depths I'd go to for our father's pleasure, you'd know dignity was only ever a mask I wore. Pride, dignity, civility, propriety; these were just necessary disguises of royalty. If the Highland nobility operated like the Alkandran aristocracy of old, I would've been the filthiest whore in court."

I laughed genuinely. "Catherine Jonias might've given you a run for your money."

Leveria laughed with me. "She wouldn't have stood a chance."

My laughter waned in my throat, and Leveria's smile dissipated. There was a silence between us that lasted for minutes before I next spoke. "How would you have fared against Elena?" I asked softly.

Leveria didn't reply. True fear returned to her eyes, her alabaster skin became even more pallid, and her fingers began to tremble.

"I didn't believe Ternias when he first told me what happened." I said, "I thought it must be one of your ploys like last time. I waited for her sigil to appear on my mirror, but it never came. It was only when I saw you in that cell downstairs, that I knew you'd truly done it."

She didn't respond. I looked levelly at her, and for the first time, she would not meet my gaze. It disturbed me. "Leveria?" I queried.

"What?" She mumbled.

"What are you hiding from me, sister?" I searched her thoughts, and found nothing but fractured memories, little sensations and images too fine to piece together. Some were horrific, some were beautiful, but none made any sense to me. Even in the screeching bowels of her torment, her mind was an impenetrable fortress. I could break it, but I could not read it. I could, however, sense the tone of her psyche. The nonsensical images and sensations did not make a clear picture for me, but they did create a tenor of pervading grief. Not terror, not dread, nor even anxiety, but a depthless loss the likes of which I had not known since I peered into Brock's mind the day that Trenok died.

Leveria sniffled, then looked up at me, and the tears that had threatened her eyes were gone.

"Why do you grieve?" I asked her.

"Do I really need to say it?" She laughed bitterly, shifting in her binds, "You've been hinting at the horrors you have planned for me. Well, are you going to tell me what they are?"

"Use your imagination."

She looked down at herself. "I'm going to be raped, obviously. Will you put me in stockades and let the whole city have a go, or will you make a spectacle out of it in the arena?"

"A spectacle?" I guffawed, "Leveria, I am going to make a national holiday out of you. It will be called the 'Week of Retribution.'"

"A whole week for me?" She smiled, though her face was turning paler, "I'm honored."

"Oh, you'll be honored many times. We will return to Alkandra tomorrow, and begin three days of festivities honoring the notable citizens who helped build the city. You will be their prize. When the horde returns, we'll have three more days to honor those who distinguished themselves in battle. Once again, you will be their prize. The only thing I won't let them do to you, is kill you."

I was pleased to see Leveria turn slightly green.

"Did you think what Ternias's men did to you would be the worst of it?" I giggled, "We call them beasts for a reason. A thousand years of oppression have honed their savagery to a keen edge. It won't be just orcs, either. Ogres have cocks thicker than my calf, and they are going to want to see how wide they can make you. Centaurs have curved shafts longer than my arm, and they are going to want to feel the squishy parts deep in your guts. I can take all manner of creatures, but you, Leveria, are just a high-elf, and your insides don't quite stretch like mine do."

Her lower lip quivered. "And then?" She asked.

"On the final night, you and I will take center stage. You will be fully-healed and freshly-bathed, just as you are now. You will crawl across the arena on your hands and knees, and I will sit on my throne. You will crawl between my legs, and you will honor me before the entire city. Then I will make you feel a pleasure greater than you've ever known, and at the height of your ecstasy, before the change of hybridization can come to your flesh, I will kill you."

"An interesting end."

"I thought so. It will be called, 'The Night of Mercy,' to serve as a lesson to my people that all things must end in grace."

Leveria processed the information with an impassive face.

"Well?" I asked.

"Is murder the only mercy your people will afford a high-elf?" She asked, "You must think of these things, Yavara, for the future of our homeland."

I leaned toward her. "The only reason Bentius isn't burning right now, is because then Elena's sacrifice would be in vain. I've washed my hands of your pathetic kingdom. When you die, the last link between me and the Highlands will be severed." I leaned back onto my pillow, "Now," I hissed, "we will rehearse your final act."

I moved myself easily into position, then paused. For all my depraved escapades, I had not yet engaged in incest. Despite my hatred for Leveria, despite the way I wanted to see her desecrated and humiliated, I still felt my nerves standing on edge when she gave me her inquisitive look. Her brow was raised, her blue eyes searching mine, her nose crinkled slightly, her pale lips quirked in what was nearly a sneer. The expression strewn across her face told me without any uncertainty that she would absolutely do it, and seemed to question my willingness to take that leap.

Watching her, I uncrossed my legs slowly. My black skirt stretched between my bronze thighs, the fabric becoming tauter until it sprang to my hips. I felt the air breathe between the apex of my legs, and felt wholly exposed for the first time since I'd lost my virginity. Staying the strange compulsion to keep my modesty, I spread my legs wider, and eased myself backward with my arms supporting my incline, my chin tilting forward to watch her from above my heaving bosom. I could not control the way my breath edged from me, nor the way my cheeks flushed slightly when she drew her eyes up the lengths of my legs, and rested them on the blushing slit between them.

LEVERIA

My little sister had a nice pussy, there was no denying it. The folds were puffy and smooth, the petals were pink and vivid, the clit was engorged and subtly hooded, and the slit was tight and wet. It narrowed at its bottom, seamlessly disappearing into the swath of dark flesh that preceded her anus. The tight pink aperture was coiled to a dot, the spokes so taut they were more like lines than folds of anal flesh. I watched a small drop of her feminine nectar slide from the bottom of her slit, roll down the gooseflesh of her taint, and pool into that coiled center.

"Well, Leveria?" Yavara whispered, staring imperiously down at me, lounging on her pillows like an empress awaiting her servant.

"What do you want me to do?" I asked back.

She quirked her lush lips. "You know what to do."

I cocked my head, studying her expression closely, narrowing my eyes. "Tell me."

She chuckled. Did her laugh sound forced? "Eat your baby sister's cunt." She slid her hand down her bodice, and unlaced the corset. Her breasts sprang from their constraints, the exquisite globes resting easily upon her chest. Her fingers worked the lacing down further, revealing the shadows of a physique she'd developed from years of training. The corset slid off her, leaving only her skirt draped across her hips, and her thigh-high boots with stiletto heels. Her rich bronze flesh played with the morning sunlight, casting every curve of her in an aura of silver. Yes, she was magnificent, and her beauty might've intimidated me not so long ago. Not anymore, for I had lain with one even more beautiful than she.

"Come, Leveria." She beckoned softly, her delicate fingers snaking between her legs, isolating her clit, and rubbing it softly.

"Make me."

"What?"

"You heard me, Yavara." I smiled, "If you want me to eat your pussy, you'll have to make me do it. Rape me."

"What?"

"I said I want you to rape me!" I snarled.

YAVARA

There was no doubt as to Leveria's beauty, nor the enticing way it was captured within the binds of leather; her robust breasts and ass pressing against the straps, her arms forced behind her to present her hourglass profile in vivid detail. But when I looked upon her face—that beautiful, delicate face of hers—I could not help but see that face in a million different memories, some of which were the oldest I had ever known. There was a branch of my soul that belonged to her, and it had sprouted near the base of my being, extending and flourishing outward with the years we shared between us. This was my sister. That nose she crinkled and those cheeks she dimpled, she inherited from our father; those lips she quirked and that brow she furrowed, she inherited them from our mother; those eyes she watched me with were hers alone, a blending of maternal and paternal features that shaped such unique and dazzling orbs, and until I had changed my irises to orange, we had shared those eyes. We shared much still. Looking upon her face was like looking at a distorted mirror, the features shaped just like mine, but the proportions just a little different.

"Rape me, little sister." She hissed, her face cast in a lecherous snarl. She stooped low, arching her bound back until her breasts pillowed against the floor, and the domes of her ass were bulging above and behind her, spread in a tantalizing display. "Please rape me," she purred, shimmying her hips, "desecrate me, humiliate me, ruin me until I'm your blubbering slave, pleading for your cunt!" There was a dangerous twinkle in her blue eyes, a challenge, an ocular sneer that told me she could see through the armor I put up. "Make me your little whore, Yavara," she hissed, staring at me from the tops of her eyes, "I'm begging for it."

I could do nothing. My mouth hung stupidly agape, my lower lip quivered, my mind was torn right in half. But I was aroused. Oh, I was wet, the heat coming from my insides like a furnace, saturated with my desire. I longed to be the deific mistress, the dominatrix, the torturer, but when I looked into those eyes of hers, those eyes I knew so well, those eyes I had loved, then feared, then loathed, then hated... I... I could not become that woman I needed to be, even for her. Especially for her.

In every footstep of my life, I had been in this woman's shadow, and I didn't realize until that moment that if she cast a shadow over me, it meant I'd been looking up to her. My big sis. The queen I would never become, the beauty I would never match, the intelligence I would never comprehend. Such cruelty she'd exhibited upon me in my younger years, and I thought then that I must've somehow deserved it, but the cruelty paled in comparison to the apathy she showed me later in life. I was insignificant, not worth her time or attention, a thing of the past she'd left behind. By virtue of being born first, she was simply better than me, and even after all those years, I still believed it somehow. The mystique of Leveria had never been lifted from me. She was my big sis, and there was still an infant child in me who looked upon her with awe. You will show me how to be me, for you are like me, but more. You have blazed the trail before me, and the idea of blazing my own is impossible. You will be my teacher, and I will mimic your every move to learn how to be like you—how to be like me. I worship you. I love you.

In the storm of such terrible indecision, I gave autonomy to my carnal-self, and let her guide me to whatever abhorrent paths my sexuality would take. I was lost.

LEVERIA

I had her. I could see it plainly in her orange eyes. No matter her power, no matter her will, she would always be little Yavara to me. The lacing that bound my wrists behind my back became undone by her magic. I stretched my arms out before me, and her shoulders shrugged insecurely, her expression faltering. I drew myself onto predatory hands and knees, and she folded in on herself, her legs coming together, her arms hugging her knees to bring them to her chest. She had done things sexually that I couldn't even imagine, and now she was an unsure little girl, barely able to meet my eyes as she tucked her chin into her chest.

Slowly, I crawled to her, my shoulders jutting from my back, my hands like claws. Oh, I was wet between my legs, and my thighs rubbed slickly together as I made my way right up to my little sister. I elevated myself above her, and she watched me from the tops of her orange eyes, her black mane covering her hunched shoulders, her lush lips quivering. I extended one hand to her, and she cringed away from it. I chuckled sardonically.

"This is who you are, Yavara." I said, and reached for her, "This is who you always were, and who you always will be." My fingers slid into her thick black hair, and she tensed beneath my touch. "I want you to remember this moment," I whispered, drawing my fingers through her strands, rounding the point of her ear, "I want you to remember it when I'm begging for death," I caressed her neck, and she shuddered, tilting her head into the touch, fearing it, enjoying it, enraptured by it. "I want you to remember it when I'm long dead," I said, shifting forward to loom above her face.

My hand came to the nape of her neck, and I balled my fist, and wrenched her head back. She yelped, the fear and desire brimming in her orange eyes as they stared rapturously up at me, her lips trembling, poised to scream, poised to kiss. I touched her brow with my other hand, and gently caressed my way around her left eye, down her cheek, and to those plump lips, so kissable, so soft and moist. Her tongue obediently snaked from her mouth, and tested the taste of me.

"Say something." I muttered.

"I hate you." She squeaked.

I grinned, and lowered my face to hers. Oh, she needed me; her orange eyes pleaded, her quivering lips begged, her neck bowed with my caressing fingers, hinging on the points of my fingers. "Do you want to know something, Yavara?" I breathed upon her lips, "I don't hate you."

"Liar."

"It's true," I said, tracing her mouth, "ever since..." And my words trailed from me.

Yavara narrowed her eyes at me. "Ever since what?" She asked.

I regained myself in an instant. "Ever since I killed our father," I lied, "I've thought of you as nothing more than a nuisance. Now look at you, so pathetic, so unconfident, waiting for me to take the lead once more."

"T-t-t-that's not true!" She stuttered, but she was moaning around her breaths, pleading, oh begging with those big eyes of hers.

"It is." I smiled cruelly, and lowered my lips.

YAVARA

I'd never tasted a kiss like Leveria's. It was like she poured malice into my mouth. Her tongue slithered onto mine, tasting of terrible desires, overly perverse with the way it lathered my palate, saturating me with the flavor of incest. It was delicious. She knew how to make it feel wonderfully wrong, to heighten the unnaturalness of our joined mouths, to slither so disgustingly, so beautifully with me as our lips smushed and drew upon the other. She tilted my head back with her hand on my neck, and I draped myself into her hold, giving her the power, kissing her like her scared little sister, letting her take the lead once more. The fingers of her other hand moved down my body, and I was nearly compelled to object. She grinned against my mouth, sensing my trepidation. She walked her fingers down my chest, across my right breast, and to my nipple. She flicked the engorged node, and I mewled into her mouth, my body shuddering receptively, teeming with the need for her to do more, to do worse.