Haldis Imperium, page 2
She checked in with the Major Domo of the Palace. He assigned her to quarters that were usually reserved for minor dignitaries. Amy shrugged and settled in with a selection of books by Torgny poets.
Palden had little to no interest in the female sent to him for breeding purposes and continued his efforts to get his friend Tyrell back from whatever assignment they had him on. He contacted everyone he knew in the Alliance Government and still came up with no idea of where his buddy Tyrell could be. His hunt consumed him. He did not eat, did not sleep, and lost all interest in the women who sidled up to him in vain efforts to distract him.
Amy sat back and relaxed, knowing that according to etiquette, Palden would have to summon her. She could no more force an interview than she could leave before the six months were up.
The council would not force him to mate with her. They didn’t do such things, but if he showed no interest in her for six months, they would send her to their second candidate, a feline specimen whose own family lineage began with a local champion.
The clock was ticking, but Amy saw this as a chance to enjoy herself. The local equivalent of Carnival would occur in a few weeks. She could not wait to join the dancing in the streets. She had to keep in mind that she could not carnally enjoy herself with anyone but Palden, but that left every other option open.
Amy was shopping. It had been five years since she had been on a genuine planet with no suit of armor to worry about. Her wardrobe was sadly lacking.
The Great Market of Yasuo was the largest on the planet and just happened to be named after the capital city of Yasuo. It was a large city for a class four world. Over fifty thousand people were in residence at any time. Swords and daggers were common, but the palace had access to all kinds of technology.
Alien species were also quite common, but their wares were restricted to the technology level by strict customs inspections on the orbital space station.
It was at an alien shop in the marketplace that Amy found her dream dress. The proprietor was a little off-putting, if seven-foot arachnids would make a person uncomfortable.
For Amy, ever since she had an assignment negotiating a trade treaty for their silks, she had an uncommon fondness for the l’nal species. They were wonderful conversationalists with wicked senses of humor.
Negotiations were heated, but after all, Amy had negotiated trades for a living, and Krik was not up to her level of bargaining. A hand-held translator had to be used, as Amy no longer had hers wired to her brain, and Krik’s language sounded like the clicking of mandibles. Which in fact it was. The bargain was struck and Krik asked Amy, her worthy opponent, in for tea.
“You bargain like a Mintok trader.” Krik’s voice was admiring as she utilized two of her eight limbs to pour the tea, l’nal acid blend for her, and a calming green tea for Amy.
“I have had a little practice in dealing with tradesmen in the past.” She demurred. “I would like to take this opportunity to compliment your weaving skills. Your mates must be very well taken care of.”
“Thank you, we will, however, not speak of those lazy, ungrateful bastards at this time.” Krik’s voice brooked no further comment on the matter, which in itself was odd as l’nal courtesy demanded that the family of the weaver be discussed after all negotiations as an acknowledgement of the reason for the transaction.
Going out on a limb Amy ventured, “Perhaps you should eat one of them at the next mating cycle. It might cause the survivors to value your generosity.” She took a small sip of tea and looked at her host expectantly.
Krik let out a loud series of clicks that the translator didn’t catch, but Amy recognized laughter when she saw it. “It would serve them right!” She collapsed into laughter again and hugged herself with four of her eight limbs as she slowed to a halt. The clicks growing further apart as she calmed.
“You have been on l’nal haven’t you? No use denying it, that comment is an old party joke. We usually don’t share it with outsiders. Now the question becomes, what were you doing there?” Krik’s six eyes focused on Amy as she assessed her more fully, “You were a negotiator. I recognize the scarring on your temples.” The eyes whirled and looked her carefully up and down. “Whew! Not many of you running around. What are you doing here?”
The personal questions were part and parcel of l’nal courtesy. So Amy explained; about the job, about being class zero, and about Palden and the reproductive contract.
“Wow, you have yourself in a real quandary. Too bad your kind doesn’t mate in multiples of more than two. It might make His Imperial Majesty more palatable.” The implication was that Amy should consume him after mating and keep another male for protection. She burst out laughing. The image was far too appealing for her peace of mind.
“Wait. If you just got out of the armor, you have nothing to wear! Perhaps we could do a little more business.” Krik switched back into merchant mode and once again the haggling was on. Two hours of haggling and tea later, Amy walked out of Krik’s shop with seven outfits and a promise to return before the carnival for a special commission.
She then went over to the leatherwork craftsmen and purchased a few pairs of trousers, some boots and a few fitted leather vests. It was the closest thing to her armor that she could come up with, and she felt that the snug feeling of the leather would be comforting to her senses.
Satisfied with making a new friend and having someone to talk to, she took her booty back to the Imperial Palace, grinning at the looks that the startled guards gave her as she passed.
Waiting for her on her com console was a message from the new negotiator, Marvick. He asked her to quickly reply to his message. It was a matter of extreme urgency. She called him back and agreed to meet him in the minor council chamber. She then tugged on her new leather outfit, knowing that it would set him off, and made her way through the halls. She hadn’t realized how much of her body was outlined by the leather, until she turned and caught a look that one of the hall guards was giving her backside as she strolled to her meeting. He met her eyes guiltily then grinned at her, she winked in return and opened the chamber door.
Marvick was exceptionally twitchy, Amy never could figure out how he ended up in service. He couldn’t seem to focus on any more than one task at once. This was a severe failing as far as she was concerned. He was unaware of her past experience in his profession, so he must want to discuss her contract stipulations.
She proceeded into the chamber, and stopped short when she saw Palden leaving the room. She hung back for a minute after he had cleared the room and walked up to Marvick.
“You wanted to see me?” She kept her voice polite and mildly curious.
“We need to go over your contract, Miss Amanda. His Imperial Majesty has several stipulations that must be addressed before he will consent to mate with you on a trial basis.” The faceplate on the front of the armor had a large handprint on it, evidence of Palden trying to make sure that he got his way.
The first time he had tried to lay hands on her, she had broken his wrist. It had taken six weeks to heal, and even now he still complained about it in damp weather. His Imperial Majesty was a bit of a bully.
“His Imperial Majesty has no say in the matter. The contract becomes active if he beds me, and if I turn up pregnant, he has to pay the full amount for the heir. There is no room for negotiation, the Alliance Council has set this contract, and the Imperial Council of Torgny agreed to it.” Her voice was implacable. She turned and left the hapless Marvick to deliver the bad news to Palden.
Chapter 3
The following week Amy visited Krik in the marketplace again and received the most beautiful, most exotic gown she had ever seen. Krik demanded that she try it on immediately.
The gown hugged her curves and flared out into a full skirt. Panels of silk were alternately transparent and opaque. The bodice concealed her breasts, barely, and left her abdomen exposed. Her tattoos blazed against her pale skin for all to see. It was a masterwork in rainbow hues, and Amy knew exactly how much work had gone into it. Krik had extruded and dyed each length separately before weaving them into the creation that was snuggled against her curves in a most intimate manner.
Offering money would be an insult, so instead she gave Krik the names of several l’nal males that she had met eighteen months ago while on a special assignment for the Alliance. She had kept in touch with them and knew that they were still looking for a female to take them on as mates. Krik could consume her old mates and invite these fresh ones to join her on this world.
Krik thanked her, she thanked Krik, and they both had a good laugh over the males in their lives. All ungrateful for the females that fate had bestowed upon them.
She promised that she would wear the gown at the festival in one week, and visit Krik as she made her rounds.
During the week, Amy collected more clothing. Rediscovering the joy of shopping after so many years of Alliance issued clothing. Her wardrobe was almost beginning to escape the confines of her little closet. She had a confused seamstress put wire into a garment resembling a brassier, and had her make some panties as well. She had forgotten to include her own measurements when she had begun her black market export from earth. Her clothing collection was almost complete.
Palden still would not grant her an audience. She figured that he was sulking over his lack of ability to change the contract. For a guy who topped her own height by a head, he was incredibly immature when he wanted to be.
The day of the festival dawned clear and bright. Vendors gathered in the square. Giggling women imbibed in the free intoxicants that were on offer at the local taverns.
Amy slept in as late as she could, then ordered a lunch from the kitchens and sat at her window, watching the spectacle blossoming in the square. She took the custom gown out of the closet and had to remove the undergarments that she put on under it. They ruined the flow of the gown. She eyed herself front and back in the looking glass and blushed to the roots of her pale silken hair. Light and delicate sandals went on her feet. Then, feeling cowardice in her bones, she threw a cloak over her shoulders and left the palace.
She did not see the eyes that watched her from a doorway in the palace. If she had, she would have run back to her room and locked the door. The bold and assessing gaze had watched the concealing layer of her cloak when it parted as she walked. Noting the lush curves beneath it.
Her feet propelled her rapidly through the market. Bright colors and fantastic smells assailed her senses as she walked into the market, on the way to Krik’s shop. Laughing couples twined together as they made their way through the spectacle caused her to smile wistfully and look away. Upon close examination of the throng, she found that a lot of the bodies that she saw were dressed more scantily than she, and wearing masks.
The mask struck her as a great idea.
First, she purchased body makeup to cover her tattoos. Then, she purchased a mask depicting a golden avian.
She went in to visit Krik and was delighted when Krik told her that she looked like food. A true compliment from an l’nal. Krik did note however, that the cloak was not complimentary to the dress and would ruin the effect of the fabric. She glowed with pleasure at seeing her work on display and began to preen right there in the back room of her shop, indicating her happiness.
She left Krik, after promising to have fun and enjoy herself, and dove into the festivities.
She sampled food, laughed, drank, dodged eager hands, and as the sun set, she found herself in a dance competition using a false name ‘Tara’. The judges sat in the shadows and the light blazing on the stage made the dancers unable to focus on the audience. Keeping her mask in place, she danced, as she had not been able to for years. Her hips slid to the beat, her ribcage undulated and her arms made graceful motions in the air, beckoning her audience to her and chiding them for being out of her reach. As she danced, the music grew wilder, until she was whirling and dipping in a frenzy of motion. A blur of energy and sensual power, reveling in the eyes that followed her every move.
With a final beat she collapsed into a kneeling pose on the dance floor, one arm raised in salute to the judges, her chest heaving in her attempt to get air into her overtaxed lungs. Sweat dripped from her body and drew the gown tight to her form. Her distended nipples outlined by the fabric as the moisture on her skin began to turn it from opaque to transparent.
The crowd erupted into a vociferous round of applause. She stood, made her bow and left the stage. The next dancer took her place, and the music began again. While every dancer received applause, no other dancer caused the riotous reaction that had followed her wild performance.
When the winner was to be announced, she waited with the other performers off to the side. Coming out of the shadows of the judges’ station, Palden stood before the audience and announced that the winner of the competition was ‘Tara’.
Amy froze at the image of her fantasies standing there and holding his hand out to her with a beguiling smile.
She walked back onto the stage at the urging of the other dancers. No one seemed surprised or disappointed that she had won. She moved close to Palden, smelling his distinct musk over the scent of female sweat that filled the stage. She gave him a small curtsy and bowed her head. She was a little confused, though. He normally only gave off that heady scent when he was aroused by a female.
She was completely taken aback when he reached forward and grasped her arms, drawing her into his embrace. She was even more surprised when he kissed her as if to devour her very soul. His tongue, lips, and teeth moving together to draw out her reactions and cause her pulse to race. So this was why he never lacked for female companionship. If she had known, she would have jumped him a month ago, the instant that she had landed.
He finished his kiss, drawing back with a smile. He gave her the purse of coins that she had won as first prize. The crowd was going wild. Hoots, whistles and crude suggestions began to fly in from beyond the stage. Palden turned to her, “Would you care to go somewhere with a little less noise? I know a lovely tavern nearby with great atmosphere.”
She gave him a startled nod and took his arm out of the square. He snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her against his thighs when they were seated at a table that the proprietor hastily cleared for them.
Drinks appeared in front of them, and Amy, oops Tara, sipped delicately at hers. The warm spiced wine caused a blossoming of warmth in her belly. The hand he stroked up her thigh stoked the flame into a blaze of heat that was echoed in her brilliant blue eyes, outlined by the makeup and golden mask.
He asked her if she would accompany him upstairs, and Tara said, “Yes.”
As soon as the door closed behind them, he was on her. His fingers easing aside her gown, lowering her bodice to expose her breasts. As soon as one of the creamy orbs was visible, he brought his mouth down onto the budding peak. Amy moaned when the hot warmth of his mouth closed over her breast and her breath hitched as he began a gentle and then ferocious suction. Her knees buckled and her weight fell against his arms, the only thing keeping her off of the floor.
It had been so long since anything had come close to this wild abandon that she was about to embark on, that she said to hell with it and released her conscious mind. The sensations running through her body ruled her, and she gladly gave herself up to them.
Palden laughed at her enthusiasm, and quickly scooped her up and strode over to the bed. He rapidly stripped her of the gown, and stood back a moment to admire what he had uncovered.
The lighting in the room was dim, so if he did see the body makeup over her abdomen, he did not comment on it. The soft skin of her breasts and the columns of her thighs leading the way to the gates of paradise distracted him.
He returned to her breast, and once again she began to fall, only this time there was a bed beneath her to stop her progress. The wild prickles of sensation from his mouth were running from breast to loins and back again. Leaving a hollow ache between her thighs, and a heavy pulse in her clit.
He smiled slightly at her moans of passion, but drew in his own breath as she found his cock and began to stroke it through his pants. He drew back from her for a moment and divested himself of his clothing. Then he joined her on the bed, using one of his hands to return hers to his rampant arousal. She smiled with her own moment of amusement at his moan, while she grasped him firmly and began a stroking rhythm that was causing his hips to surge in time.
Returning the favor, his hand delved between her thighs, which fell open at his touch. He found her hot and wet. Her slick folds covered with dew. He drew her hand from its occupation with regret, and wove his fingers with hers pinioning, her hands beside her head. His sticky fingers locking with hers.
Finding its target without any trouble as he moved over her, his cock drove deeply into her depths on the first thrust, her small shriek of surprise stopping him for an instant as he realized that she hadn’t had sex in some time. He paused for a moment to let her adjust to the feeling of him inside her, but when her walls clamped down on his cock with a massaging rhythm of her own devising, he began to thrust.
He nuzzled at her breast as his hips pistoned within the cradle of her thighs. Each thrust rocked the bed and they were both hurtling headlong into release. He slowed his movements as he got closer to the precipice, not wanting to end this encounter quite yet. She had other plans. As she got closer to the edge, she wanted to jump, not stroll. Her legs scissored around his hips, she used the strength that she had left to force him as far in as she could. She arched her hips and clamped her internal muscles against him. When he drew out on the backstroke, she pulled him back, leading him to slam into her again.
He got the idea. Grinding his pelvis into her when he thrust deep, he stimulated the little nub at the top of her sex with the impact and that was all that it took. With a scream and a heave that almost threw him off, she climaxed.
