The Exchange Ch. 10

Unlike her mistress, Indu's heart was surprisingly easy to melt. Give her some food and attention and she'll pledge her eternal loyalty.

Indu's head was quite soft. Inka didn't mind petting her. She was certain that it counted as therapy for her poor fingers, especially when she lightly took one of Indu's soft ears and rubbed it. Another fun activity that also strengthened her fingers was simply playing with Indu, usually with toys. Indu could still beat her at a tug of war game, though. But then again, Inka wanted to be gentle with the puppy.

A little bed with cushions had been placed in a small room that had previously been empty. That was where Indu slept, and she often did so on her back, her legs at strange angles. She snored when the air was thick, and sometimes her tongue hung out. Her diet was very fine, well cooked and chopped meats with small amounts of pureed vegetables, typically the green leafy kinds. No oils, no herbs, and no spices. On some hot days, Indu was given carefully prepared pieces of cantaloupe. The seeds and skin were considered to be dangerous to dogs, and so, she wasn't allowed to have any of that.

Whenever Nitishila visited, he often brought some silly gift that Inka ignored, and Inka would always ignore him too. Nitishila would play around with Indu, laughing and talking as if he wasn't a heartbroken man. Then he'd leave. Whenever the Emperor or Empress Consort, or even the Dowager visited, their eyes would melt and shimmer, and they'd give Indu their attention. Although, the Dowager preferred to have Indu sit in her lap instead of roughhousing. "I might purchase a little dog for myself," she once told Inka. "Its warm body could relieve my arthritis."

One day, Inka happened to want to look in a closet for some random thing, and a maid opened it for her. Inside, she found stacks and stacks of boxes. "Where did all of these boxes come from?" Inka quietly asked.

The maid answered, "Your honorable husband has brought many gifts, and they've all been kept here."

Just then, Inka heard Indu's paws rapidly tap on the floor outside the room, down a hallway. Then there was the heavier steps of Anit the trainer. "Come back here, you stubborn little beast!"

Even the best trainers had their off days.

Time was rolling along. Life was moving with it.

But Inka still didn't have room in her heart for forgiveness.

The Empress Consort visited Inka later that afternoon. She'd brought a scroll of old poetry and said, "I found this yesterday. Why don't you recite the poetry while your cook prepares some snacks for us?"

Inka gave an honest effort, but the vintage calligraphy was difficult for her foreign brain to unlock. She had to ask her mother-in-law to translate some of the words.

"Oh, never mind," the Empress said as she rolled the scroll back into a closed state. "I should have realized you'd have difficulties. I hope you'll forgive me."

Dey arrived with the tray of snacks then.

Some bites later, the Empress said, "I imagine you've heard that Nitishila's been named the successor."

Barely nodding, Inka said, "I've heard, Your Majesty."

"There will be a grand celebration, a banquet with many elite guests."

"I'd expect nothing less." Inka was able to pick up a cup that was halfway full of water without shaking it. That was quite the accomplishment.

The Empress sighed and reached up to pat her updo. The wavy, dark brown hair was set in swirling braids and buns above her ears and on the top of her head. Silver and gold insects, dragonflies and bees, were pinned all about. One of her fingernails nudged a bee ornament as she said, "That rotten child won't be permitted a seat at the banquet, but you won't be permitted the right to refuse your seat."

Not even an eyelash flickered when Inka responded, "I don't want to embarrass my family with my appearance."

"It would be worse if you didn't claim your seat." The Empress reached for one of the bits of food. "You have a fine reputation, and if you aren't seen at the banquet, then the elites will ask very troublesome questions."

"Could I have my seat moved to a location opposite my husband?" Inka dared to ask.

"Absolutely not." The Empress' tone was almost strict, but she still had a gentle expression.

Maybe half an hour later, the Empress Consort left Inka's apartment, but Inka could still hear that woman's words echoing in her head.

She was barely settled in her gazebo when Dey hurried to her and said, "Prince Nitishila is requesting a visit."

"That's fine. Let him come." Inka turned to watch little Indu. The puppy was sniffing around some plants under the careful eye of a maid. For some reason, Inka decided she didn't enjoy the sight of the innocent little creature, and she told the maid to take Indu to a different section of the apartment.

"Oh, Mistress," Jorun said as she leaned in towards Inka, "won't you let the puppy stay?"

Inka looked away and stayed quiet.

Indu growled as she was carried off, but she didn't bite. Nitishila arrived soon afterward with Mamun close by, as he usually was.

And as expected, he had a gift, another beautiful lacquered case with something inside.

"Good afternoon, Inka." Nitishila took a seat close to her. His face was tense and cautious. "Are you feeling well?"

Inka stood up, took the farthest seat from him, and said to Jorun, "My fingers ache."

"I'll tend to you, Your Highness." Jorun went to Inka's side and took one of her hands. She immediately started a light massage.

Nitishila's nostrils flared, and he groaned, but he seemed to force himself to soften. He even smiled. "Mamun."

"Yes, Master." Mamun's chin rose.

"Present the gift to my wife."

Inka's face turned and her nose rose as Mamun approached and opened the case. She didn't care what was inside.

"Mistress?" Jorun tapped her shoulder. "It's a stone placard."

What?

For once, Inka looked.

Resting on silk, there was a decently sized tablet of polished gray stone. Words were vertically carved into it.

"On this month (then the month is question was numbered), on this day (the day's number was there too), on this year (yes, the year was also written out), Prince Nitishila Patelrao gravely wronged his wife, Princess Consort Inka Patelrao. After seeing deficient, hatefully planted evidence against his wife, he had her imprisoned and tortured for scheming against the empire. Princess Lataa was later found to be the true culprit, but Princess Inka has still suffered physically and emotionally."

"What intended function does this placard have?" Inka asked very softly, so soft that she imagined most couldn't hear her.

Nitishila told her, "The more correct question would be, what functions do these placards have?"

Her neck practically snapped as she looked up at him. His eyes were more focused than before. "These?" she said.

Nitishila nodded and gripped one of his knees. "What you have there is a copy. I've had several made. One's sitting outside my apartment's main entrance. As for the rest, I've had them sent out to all the apartments in this palace, various important government buildings in the public, the homes of the highest aristocrats, and even to large inns in the capital. I've ordered for each placard to be displayed at each entrance."

Inka was the one who sought out a stabilizing contact. She held Jorun's hands tightly as she stared back down at the placard in the box.

Somewhere, a bird chirped.

A little wind blew by.

Inka ...

Her breath moved a little, nearly drawing her lower lip against her teeth, but she caught herself before she could make any noticeable movements.

Nitishila's clothing rustled and his jewelry twinkled as he rose. His slippers didn't hush his steps across the gazebo's wooden floor. He sat down beside Inka and gently pulled her hands away from Jorun. Taking the not very subtle hint well, Jorun separated from her mistress and moved a good distance away.

Hot ... rough ... Inka blinked and sighed at the nearly forgotten feeling of Nitishila's hands curled around hers.

She wanted to cry!

It was so damn difficult to keep her frigid mask in place.

"You ... your parents ... and the Dowager ... they won't approve."

Being near him was like being near a pit of hot charcoal, and he smelled almost as tantalizing as a chunk of seasoned meat cooking over a grill.

"I've secretly consulted the Empress Dowager," Nitishila said as his thumb stroked one of Inka's index fingers. "We had a short argument, but I was able to convince her. This is my repentance." He sighed as his fingers squeezed hers only a little bit harder. "I should've done this a long time ago. I truly am a fool."

"This action," Inka said, "it will damage your reputation. Even the commoners will know if your sin." Lataa's reputation would also be damaged, but nobody seemed to care about that.

"I'm aware, Inka, but at least I can hope that everyone will know I'm the one who ordered and distributed the placards. I'm confessing my crimes, and seeking forgiveness in the process."

This man was amazing.

Her brain was blank, and it was all because of him.

"Inka, let's have a private moment." He took her upper arm. It didn't hurt. "Please."

Her body yielded even though her mind couldn't even light a spark. Everything she saw was blurry and wet. She barely understood that she was walking, but she fully recognized Nitishila's flesh.

Only when his mouth was on hers, when his beard was scraping her skin, did Inka realize that she wasn't walking anymore. Then she realized she was in her bedroom.

Her hands went to his chest as she tugged her mouth away and gazed up at his fervent eyes. "How can you kiss me? I'm so ugly now."

"I won't dare to even say that word." He reached up to touch her cheek. Inka knew she was mostly healed, but there were some little scars here and there. "Now let's remove that scarf."

Inka shook her head, but she was unable to stop him from pinching the pins away and pulling her headscarf off. Her hair was still unfashionably short. It didn't even reach her ears.

But his fingers spread over her scalp, transferring his warmth, somehow making her shiver.

"Inka, how could I be displeased with you? I'm partially responsible for what happened to you." He bent down to kiss her brow. "What happened was tragic, and I can't erase it, but I can swear to never lie. I'll always admit what I did. Your scars are mine. They're evidence of my sins, not yours."

His arms snugly wrapped around her.

But Inka wasn't calmed. He still didn't understand, or that's what she thought.

"Nitishila! You ... you need to know ..."

"What is it?"

"I ... I ..." She groaned as her frail hands gripped his necklace. She could smell the gold. Her voice gurgled as she desperately tried not to weep. "I hate you so much!"

Inka felt his fingernails on her skin, but he didn't scratch her. His body felt much harder than before. His beard brushed over her ear. "Is ... is that so?"

A tear came. She couldn't stop it no matter how heavily she packed her mask on her face. She tasted that tear when it landed on her lips. She had to gasp for her required breath. "When you first saw my injuries, when dismay shined in your eyes, I was flooded with gratification." She released his necklace. The scent of gold adhered to her palm and fingers. "I wanted to pierce your heart with the results of your irresponsibility. I ... I hate you."

Nitishila's voice became hollow. "Inka?" He gripped her shoulders. "Why didn't you have those two maids testify before me? Why did you wait until after you suffered in a cell?"

Inka tried to step away then. She had to twist her torso to make him let her go. Her head lowered and she stared at her slippers. "Because you didn't trust me, because you wanted to put me in the cell." More tears. She used a corner of her top to dab at her eyes and cheeks. "And ... and I knew that after the viper would be found, I could use it to cast doubts on my alleged guilt. You're the same as your cretinous sister." Her palms went to her eyes as she fought off a loud whimper.

A few more thick breaths.

She sounded like Indu on a humid day.

"The ... the best method for putting an idiot in their place is to let them perform. Let them embarrass themselves." Inka took another step away. Then, as more pressure built in her head, she suddenly cried out, "How do you do this?!" Her hands because fists and she stomped a foot as a child might do. "Normally, I've always been perfectly calm! Even when I've wanted to die I've been calm! Yet you can rip my efforts apart and make me scream!"

Her legs gave in.

"Inka!" Nitishila was swift. He scooped her body up and carried her to her bed.

Her chest moved so quickly as she panted.

They were sitting down. Inka was still panting. Her emotions were tossing and blending. She felt cold, and that was frightening.

"I hate you so much!!" Hugging herself, Inka bent over. "I hate you!!"

"That's fine."

What?

Nitishila put an arm around her shoulder. With the other arm he propped Inka back into a straight position. He leaned her upper body into him, holding her cheek against his chest. He carefully ran his fingernails through what little hair she had, and he murmured, "You may hate me for as long as you see fit, but I refuse to hate you."

Was that ... was that true?

He tilted her head backwards, kissed her nose, and then he kissed her mouth, all while holding her closely.

The words on the placard popped into her mind, flashed across her eyes. Even as she was undressed, Inka was consumed by those words. She imagined they could be etched onto her brain if this stagnant thought process continued.

She was lying down. When had that happened? When did Nitishila become as nude as she was? How much time had run away from her temporarily useless mind?

"Inka?"

Nitishila was over her, bent arms on each side. A few stray ornaments hadn't been taken from his hair. They touched Inka's shoulders, collarbone, and arms, as Nitishila's hair flopped down. His face was so sharp, but his lips were parted. Expectant yet sad eyes shimmered down at her. "Inka, we still have our duties. Even if you hate me, an endeavor must be made."

That ...

That was true.

But Inka didn't want to enjoy it.

She'd once decided she would be an unfeeling wife in the bedchamber. So, when Nitishila put his mouth to her breast, using his lips to play with the nipple, Inka tried to pretend she didn't care.

Yet ...

Her spine curved, pushing herself into him.

Her toes made in the most undignified movements.

Her eyes shut so tightly that it hurt.

Her hands violently shook as the fingers disturbed the bed-sheets.

Nitishila rested beside her, held her again, and he continued to treat her well with his lips and tongue. One of his palms made wide strokes on her thigh.

Inka's blood was racing. She felt it. She wished it wasn't so, but it couldn't be denied. Both nipples, despite the fact that only one was being licked and kissed, hardened and grew even more sensitive.

Then the other nipple had its turn.

Her mons was covered by Nitishila's palm.

An abrupt stroke inside!

Inka groaned through her teeth.

He put a lick around her nipple. "Are you alright?"

She refused to answer.

"Oh. Well," his middle finger swirled around the neediest ridge in her channel, making it flex and ooze, and making her squirm and whine, "I'll have to be vigilant."

In the end, Inka knew her decision had been empty and useless.

He could make her display every emotion, every feeling, every single response.

In these moments, Inka couldn't find the mask.

Nitishila watched her face for a long time, pressing into her cunt, reviewing all the little techniques he might have forgotten since the last time they'd been so intimate. Inka knew that was what he was doing. There was no way she could've denied it.

Inka gave in. She moaned and writhed on the bed, and she even said rather lustful things. When the pressure was nearly too much, when her muscles tensed, Nitishila was almost cruel for a moment. He withdrew his fingers and dragged her off the bed, leading her shaky legs across the room.

Where were they going?!

He leaned down to drop her on a cushion on the floor. Then, as Inka wordlessly sat there like a possibly stupid person, she watched Nitishila reach for a tall standing mirror that was normally used when changing clothes. With only one hand, he was able to quietly drag it closer.

She sighed at the reflection of her pinkened, bare head, but she wasn't allowed to do that for long.

Nitishila hooked his hands under her arms and lifted her right back to her feet. Then, with a little grunt, he clasped her buttocks and activated her more fear based instincts. Inka put her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist. Her fingers ached, and she thought she might not be able to hold on, but then Nitishila put her back against a smooth, warm wall. She felt his beard on her throat and the air on her anus as she was pinned there.

In the mirror, Inka saw her pale eyelashes rise as Nitishila sunk her down on his cock.

Then she saw her fingers slide down a henna pattern on his back.

"Niti!!"

He kept her up, fucked her pretty hard, and murmured incomplete words in her neck. Sometimes he lightly bit her, but Inka couldn't find any pain. She only yipped and pulsed around his cock even harder.

She saw how her pale, if flushed skin stood out against her husband's darker tone. A white and pink flower blooming on a healthy, great tree.

"Niti!! Nitiiiiiiiiiii!!"

He wasn't listening, or Inka didn't believe he was. He might have been losing track of reality, just fucking and fucking.

One of his fingertips, likely a middle one, it actually tapped and then touched her anus. And as Inka felt Nitishila's teeth scrape her throat and his cock spread her wet cunt, she felt her anus contract and take in a tiny amount of that finger.

That only made her pussy convulse harder.

Inka shrieked.

Wept again.

She even scratched Nitishila with her toenails.

And ... maybe drooled a bit, as indecent as that was.

But that was fine. His hair was there to soak it up.

Inka had almost forgotten what cumming on her husband's thick stalk felt like. Now that she had that feeling again, she didn't want to lose it.

***

Rain, such heavy rain, and loud winds. That's what this morning held.

Breakfast was heavy and enjoyable. Thick, savory pancakes made of ground and salted beans and vegetables. Small, spicy sausages. Lightly baked pears with sprinkled cinnamon and sugar. Toast with mango jam. And cups of tea.

The couple sat near a window with a floral frame, watching the rain fall like curtains.

Even though Inka had said she hated Nitishila, she stayed close, even touching him at times, usually a sweep of her fingertips or a tap with her knee.

He didn't feed her by hand, as he used to do when he was still in her good graces. He seemed to understand that she still didn't think too highly of him. "Inka," he said when most of his food was gone, still watching the rain, "I've been thinking. If you had taken an aborfacient, and it had been successful, a doctor would've noticed something was wrong with you, and I'd have been told immediately."

Despite the loud rain, Inka heard him. He was very clear.

"Yes, I suppose that's true." She put a cup of tea to her lips. It was a very pretty cup. Floral designs had been painted on it, and the leaves were edged with gold.

Nitishila's head lowered as if a significant weight burdened him. His voice certainly was heavy enough. "I don't know how you tolerate such an unreasonable husband."