Vaid Empire: Conquest
Chapter 135
50th of Senin, 22 AVE.
Kingdom of Waith, Village Near Nenian.
The wet sounds of hard, deep thrusts echoed through the command tent of The God Emperor. Upon his massive bed, two young women watched with curious smirks as their father bred his latest lover.
Gritting his teeth, Dominax rocked his hips forcefully. His saw the purple gaze of his lover flutter, for beneath him writhed an Arkos woman.
Tail flicking at her side, the grey woman whimpered with dripping need as she endured his rough movements. Her head rolled back to rest upon the silky sheets, surrendering to her divine breeder’s passion.
The bed rocked with his forceful thrusts while he was flanked by Dayla and Nayla. Dominax’s bastard twins watched his ravenous efforts with glee, savoring the sight of every hard push that drove his cock deep inside the Arkos. Naked at either side of their ruler, their pregnancies were too early to show, yet he could sense the pair of twins he had put inside both of their young wombs.
Dayla rested on her side and Nayla sat with her legs parted, supporting herself with one arm while her other hand played between her thighs. She held up her fingers for her sister to see, sharing a chuckle as she displayed her dripping juices.
Through the fabric walls of the tent, they could smell the lingering smoke.
Dominax’s hand traveled up the side of his lover. A warrior of Narok, a beautiful woman he had selected from the masses of his Arkos allies, her grey body was athletic and capable, fit for battle. He craved to grant her a new purpose instead.
Her powerful, thick thighs squeezed his waist, yearning for more. His hand ventured further up her body, seizing her breast roughly. Round, heavy, it would feed the hybrid baby he held every intention of granting her.
Dayla giggled playfully as she lifted her leg, guiding the grey woman’s smooth tail to her groin. Biting her lip, she urged the flexible appendage to rub back and forth over her delicate lower lips, putting the tail’s flicking movements to work.
The smell of destruction lingered outside. Soon, it would be time to deconstruct the legion camp and march onward.
The God Emperor’s hand left her round breast and continued its creeping journey. He traced his fingers over her feminine chin and cheek before seizing one of her curved horns. Yanking, he held it tightly in his powerful grasp, forcing her to meet his glowing gaze.
He saw the need in her violet eyes. So too did he see her submission.
Her people had knelt to his will. His unbreakable grasp held her horn tightly. There remained much to do before his aims were completed. They marched through a jungle that had taken much from him, yet still he remained standing. The legion had been damaged and diminished, yet still he remained in control.
Every hard thrust inflicted his will upon the woman beneath him, forcing her to get pregnant. Every battle inflicted his will upon the world, forcing it to bend to his designs.
No one else was coming to save them. They bled and they burned. He endured his horrid deeds, for no other could.
Driving his cock hard against his lover’s deepest limit, he roared as he unleashed his seed. His warmth flooded her Arkos loins, claiming her entirely.
Trembling beneath her breeder, knowing very few words in the imperial tongue, she muttered her pleasure in her native language.
His deed was done. He pulled his manhood free of her sex and left her to leak.
As he guided the three women to rest with him against the headboard, his satisfaction was interrupted by an announcement from a guard echoing outside. “Grand Imperial Architect Lalian to see you, your holiness!”
More than surprised, Dominax did not hesitate. He shouted to permit his long-secluded advisor to enter.
A moment was required for Lalian to make his way through the great tent and into The God Emperor’s bedchamber. Wrapped in his dark green cloak, holding a small object in his grasp, his eyes widened upon seeing the naked guests of his friend. “M…may we speak alone?”
The miserable expression upon the green man’s face made Dominax’s own features harden with concern. His pleasure was forgotten in an instant. He turned to the women with a low rumble. “Leave us. Now.”
They hurried to obey, rushing at the seriousness of his harsh tone. Gathering their clothing, leaving with the promise of a new baby in one of their wombs, the trio bowed before departing.
A chamber that had been filled with the sounds of life and pleasure mere moments before was now left in silence. Alone with his friend, Dominax rose from his bed and donned a thin white robe, concealing the remnants of his enjoyment. “You may speak, Lalian,” he commanded with concern. “Spill whatever thoughts are tormenting you.”
The God Emperor believed he could guess what troubled his friend. Lalian proved him wrong. “D…Dominax, you have to stop.” He swallowed upon seeing his ruler’s confusion. “Nenian, the village, the d…destruction. You must stop.”
Utterly surprised, despising being taken off guard, Dominax squinted. “You’ve been away, my friend, and understandably so. You’ve been misinformed.”
Lalian’s legs quivered. He wanted to nod and simply retreat back to his own tent. He wanted to cease his efforts before they truly began, yet he could not. He looked down at the object in his hand, seeing the charred wood of the figurine he had taken from the ashes. For the woman he had loved, he forced himself to speak. “No, Dominax. I’ve witnessed the destruction myself. I…I’ve stood among the ashes, and I’ve beheld what remains.”
The God Emperor wasn’t pleased. “And what you saw disturbed you.”
It wasn’t a question, yet still Lalian nodded. “I don’t know the precise number of civilians who occupied this village, nor Nenian, yet if Waith’s population is similar to Lian’s, I can make a statistical guess.”
Dominax didn’t want to hear it. “Tell me something, Lalian. Do you believe I would commit such deeds if they were unnecessary? Do you believe I’d burn valuable cities needlessly?”
Lalian shook his head as he stood before his ruler. “N…no, I do not. I have been at your side nearly since the beginning, and I have seen how you’ve conducted the conquest. This destruction is quite…singular, yet I know you are doing what you believe is right.” Once more, he swallowed. It was time for him to stand up, to be brave. “Even still, y…you must stop this. There must be another way.”
“Another way.” The God Emperor repeated the words, finding them to be sour. “You stood among the destruction of the village. Did you stand among our destruction as well?” he asked calmly, keeping his deep voice low. He knew all too well what his friend had suffered recently. He would permit him great leniency, though still his limits remained. “The desert took too much from us. Merely witness the state of the legion and know how precarious our situation is. I do not possess enough men to leave behind to securely hold each city we take, and I cannot leave them unguarded at our backs. You are not a fool, Lalian. Do not ask me to trap us between enemy cities.”
Lalian understood the cold, heartless logic of the matter. It was an easy thing for his quick mind to rationalize. Yet when cities became more than mere markers on a map, when people became more than mere population statistics, he knew what Anthara would want him to do. “I…I will not ask you to doom us. Strategy is hardly my area of specialty, yet I cannot stand idly while…innocents are burned.” He nearly choked on the word.
“You surprise me, my friend.” Dominax lifted his chin slightly, peering down at the green man with harsh silver eyes. “I believed you of all people would hold little sympathy for them.”
Lalian grimaced. The God Emperor’s words were a dagger to his gut, knowing precisely where to strike. “Sympathy has no place in this.” His expression darkened. “I…hate them, Dominax.” The confession was hardly above a whisper, uttering the truth at the core of him. “I hate them more than you could ever know.” His grip tightened around the figurine. The world itself could not hold the weight of his hate should he let the full truth of it slip from his lips. “Yet so too did I love her.”
He did not need to utter her name. Dominax’s harsh features subtly eased. “Her people shall receive a better world when this is done.”
“Yet they’ll burn now.” Lalian looked down at the charred figurine, seeing the name Avina etched into the wood. “If we forget the people we intended to help, what has this all been for?”
Dominax’s lips tightened. “Such words hold the ring of Clin to them.” Long had the blond Knight uttered such things. “He abandoned us in the desert. Shall you abandon us in the jungle, I wonder?”
Lalian’s legs trembled harder. He knew what he risked. “You’ve given me my life. Together we’ve created wonders.” He forced himself to meet his silver gaze, seeing his ire, his disgust, yet behind it all, he saw the man beneath. Dominax eyed him with a calloused heart, awaiting the worst. “I shall forever remain your friend, yet what friend would I be if I stood silently and allowed you to ruin yourself? They call you a monster. I know better.” Lalian took a step back, feeling as if it would destroy him. “If you continue to burn them…I…I shall be forced to leave. I cannot abide this slaughter.” He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth, yet he stood firm. He would honor the woman he had loved.
The glow of Dominax’s gaze diminished. Without his crown, without his armor, he nearly appeared human, a man standing before his retreating friend with withering hope. “How disappointing.” Gone was the deep rumble of his voice, replaced with a weary echo.
“I want to stay. More than anything, I want to remain at your side,” Lalian said softly. He knew no other threat would cease his flames. “Don’t make me go. Don’t force my hand. Please.”
Falling into thought, Dominax stood in silence as he stared at the floor. His bitter expression hardened when he spoke at last. “Such would be a shame. I’ve long planned to mate Jinilya with your son. Their child would have inherited the entirety of the jungle in time,” he explained, meeting Lalian’s gaze. “Would you cast such a future aside for the Lanthians? For the women who named you slave?”
Lalian’s heart felt as if it halted in his chest. His son, the last living piece of the woman he had loved, might sire the future of the jungle? What remained of his little family might sit upon the throne of the land of his birth? The thought was nearly too much to imagine. Struggling to find the proper words, he squeezed the charred figurine tighter, knowing he would never forgive himself if he crumbled now. “For Anthara’s memory, I would throw away…everything.”
Despite his disappointment, despite the cold pain in his gaze, Dominax could not hide the tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth. Lalian watched The God Emperor’s features shift subtly. For a moment, he thought he saw reluctant respect in his expression.
Dominax turned away. Clasping his hands behind his back, he began to pace slowly, lost in thought. Lalian’s heart pounded in his chest, awaiting his fate. What would their long friendship earn him? Wrath or mercy?
When Dominax slowed to a stop, it was clear his thoughts were settled. The Conqueror loomed before Lalian as he approached. A mere touch of his power would see him dead. A single command would see him executed for treason. He held the life of the green man in his grasp, yet he offered only a tired sigh.
Lalian watched him, doing all he could to retain his bravery. “D…Dominax?”
Gone was The God Emperor. For a single, rare moment, only a man stood before the Lanthian. Dominax refused to meet his gaze. “I said I would endure no further losses. I don’t wish to see you go.”
The green man blinked. The words were a painful echo, holding the tone of a man who had lost too much. Lalian’s were much the same. “Nor do I, m…my friend.”
Dominax nodded quietly. He stroked his neat beard in thought. “All I said was true. To leave men behind to hold the cities in our path risks our defeat.” At last, he looked at Lalian. “Would you endanger us? Would you put the lives of those around you in danger for the sake of the Lanthians?”
The question was harsh, yet Lalian endured. It seemed he would live a little longer. “T…there must be an alternative, my friend.”
“And if that alternative leads to catastrophe?”
Lalian looked down at the carved wood. He did nothing to hide the pain from his tone. “Then I shall mourn, as I have, yet I shall know I honored her memory.”
Dominax saw his sorrow. His expression eased further. After a long moment, seeing the wetness gathering in the Lanthian’s green eyes, he placed his hand upon his friend’s shoulder. “Anthara was a worthy being, Lalian.”
They stood together in lonely silence, surrounded by ghosts.
At last, Dominax uttered a weary sigh. “This final bloodshed has been long, and I see the end still far beyond my reach.” His tone was quiet and introspective, a sound few had ever heard. “What have we lost in this necessary pursuit?”
“Everything.”
Lalian peered at the floor. Dominax peered at a Vaid banner decorating the wall. “No. Not yet.”
Strength faltering, Lalian touched his brow and closed his eyes.
Dominax’s expression hardened as he watched tears begin to trickle down the green man’s cheeks. At long last, he nodded. “I will not stop until my purpose is done. I shall do all I must, yet an alternative may be found.”
Lalian dared to look at him with hope.
“Go. Rest. Collect yourself. Bring me the mind that has proven itself so useful, unburdened and fresh,” Dominax commanded firmly. The deep tone of The God Emperor returned, offering no argument. “You ask for restraint? Mercy? So be it, yet only if a strategy can be found that I find satisfactory.”
Lalian nodded, rubbing his eyes. “Of…of course, your majesty.” The weight crushing his chest slowly fell away, permitting him to breathe.
As the green man turned and took a step, Dominax’s firm voice stopped him. “A final word, Lalian. Should you ever threaten to depart again, I shall kill you where you stand.”
He had done what love demanded of him. He had survived. Lalian bowed his head in acknowledgement. Permitted to leave, he paused only to offer his quiet gratitude. “T…thank you, Dominax.”
The God Emperor offered no reply.
Moving to depart, Lalian glanced back as he reached the flap of the bedchamber’s entrance. Without his concubines, his pretty slaves, his lovers, all who typically surrounded him, Dominax stood in solitude, quiet in the aftermath of their conversation.
Without the distractions offered by his throne, the most powerful man in the world appeared utterly alone.
1st of Iahta, 22 AVE.
Shai Domain, Ishtai.
Looming over the city of his birth, Varse savored a peaceful thought of what could have been.
Below, Dril went about their day. They wandered wet streets in the aftermath of a light drizzle that had turned the snow into slush. As Varse watched his people, he saw men and women walking together, occasionally accompanied by a child or two. Merchants stood at their stands. Fishermen returned from the nearby river in triumph carrying all manner of strange aquatic creatures in their baskets, or empty-handed.
Those who claimed most of their unseen Potentate’s attention, however, were the farmers. Some rode atop Chidrae-pulled carts, hauling their latest yields. Others entered the city on foot, seeking supplies. Varse watched as the muddy edges of their robes dirtied the snow and slush they trudged through.
He imagined himself among them. He imagined returning to his family’s old farm after finding what he required in the market, toiling for much of the day to ensure his field of Tsrisu was covered in enough snow to thrive. He imagined the grueling process of harvesting all he had grown, and rolling up his sleeves before plunging his hands into the mud beneath the snow to sow new seeds.
His fantasy was fleeting. He had instead spent his life muddying his hands in a different sort of filth.
Having come to visit the training hall in Ishtai where Salik had been raised, as he did at least once a year, he stood atop a new tower that rose from the side of the circular core of the building. Commissioned as a large extension to house many of the new assets that now trained inside, the tower was squat and thick with a flat top, standing just above the slanted rooftops of the surrounding buildings.
Looming at the edge of the high rooftop, he heard footsteps echoing softly behind him. His thoughts fell away as he turned around, seeing a familiar face.
Ascending from the stairwell, a young Dril woman in a short traditional dress approached The Potentate. With her dark hair fluttering in the cold breeze, the front cut short to cover her forehead, she bowed her head in a nod of respect. So too did he nod.
One of Vesh’s assistants, a girl named Darida, she held the petite swell of her pregnant belly with one hand while offering a human message cylinder with the other. “It just arrived via an Idrae. For your eyes only, my Potentate.”
Varse accepted the cylinder without a word. Seeing that it had been sent from Salik, his stern features tightened with concern. His son’s reports rarely brought him comfort.
Darida stood quietly as he turned his back to her. Short cape fluttering in the chilly breeze, he pulled the etched sticks from the cylinder and began to read. What he learned stirred a knot in his stomach.
The God Emperor had burned a Lanthian city to the ground. More were certain to follow. His red eyes lingered on the words for a long moment.
So too did the report speak of Salik’s intentions to kidnap Princess Jinilya. As he considered his son’s plan, he could not keep the thought of burning Lanthians from his mind.
“The monster’s fire consumes the jungle,” he whispered to himself. If the girl heard him, she didn’t intrude.
He had been disgusted to learn of The Kromak’s brutal death at the hands of his enemy’s firstborn, though he hadn’t been surprised. The false Arkos deity was hardly a man he desired to encounter ever again, of course. So too did he hold little love for the winged outsiders of the jungle. Still, he could pity them all.
Closing his eyes, he imagined great flames spewing from the wrathful tyrant’s hand to consume the jungle. Opening them, he saw the city of his birth. Ishtai would stand in The God Emperor’s way someday, just as the Lanthians did now.
He squeezed the etched sticks in his grasp until they snapped.
“My Potentate?” Darida asked with concern.
He tossed the sticks from the rooftop’s edge. The people below would not be able to read their coded symbols. “Unfortunate news. Make no further mention of it.”
The girl nodded. When she did not take her leave, he turned around to regard her. She endured his stern glance, meeting it with a sluggish smile. “Forgive my boldness, my Potentate, yet if it would lighten your worries, I could wait in your quarters,” she offered in a smooth voice that held no shame. “I am more than accustomed to easing Vesh’s moods. Perhaps I could ease yours.”
Taken aback, Varse let his horrid thoughts slip from his grasp for a mere moment, as was evidently her intention. “My quarters?” He stared at her with a hard expression.
Vesh had found and trained many talented Dril girls into deadly agents of Shai. Darida was not one of them. Though no doubt useful enough as an assistant to continue to receive Vesh’s hospitality, the girl awaiting Varse’s answer was a…simple creature. Her red eyes, though beautiful, regarded him lazily as if very little rested behind them.
It would be a lie to say he did not envy her. A thousand thoughts sought to strangle him. The only thought that seemed to rattle within her pretty head was one of a desire to ease her Potentate’s worries.
She hadn’t been the first Dril to make such an offer, of course. With her short dress hugging her petite body, the dark fabric pulled tight by the soft swell of her early pregnancy, she was everything he craved, and everything that coaxed his guilt. The sight of her snow-colored skin and pointed ears drew memories of Tsida’s corpse. His reply was much the same as the one he had granted to all Dril women who had made such offers before. He shook his head sternly. “That won’t be necessary.”
Soft disappointment was clear in her gaze, for her hope to aid him had been genuine. “As you wish.”
It had become an easy thing to dismiss the carnal advances of his own kind. After all, he had experienced no shortage of lovers among his non-Dril agents, utilizing the touch of outsiders to satiate his natural needs.
He turned away from the girl. She lingered for a long moment, perhaps hoping, before moving to depart.
Varse heard the sounds of her footsteps in the slush blanketing the tower’s peak. A yearning prodded at him. For decades, Tsida’s memory had tarnished such desires, yet the girl’s offer tested him more than all those who had come after the death of his son’s mother.
“Hold a moment.” The words escaped him before he could build the strength to contain them. He turned to see her halt at the edge of the stairwell.
She was a petite beauty that no doubt drew the eye of all men that beheld her, yet Varse’s many outsider lovers had been just as beautiful. Perhaps it was the gentle swell of her pregnancy that drew him through the maze of his reluctance, as it offered a promise that he could not repeat the mistake that had led to Salik’s birth.
Darida waited patiently, her sluggish gaze meeting that of her Potentate.
Varse inhaled the chilly air. He thought of ashes filling the sky above Ishtai in the future. If he was truly being honest, perhaps the thought of his enemy’s flames carving through his homeland proved to be just enough to overcome his reluctance. Something deep within him yearned to feel the comforting touch of his own kind, knowing the future they would one day face together.
“You may wait in my quarters if that is your desire,” he replied, offering no hint of affection in his stern features. “I shall join you shortly.”
Her smile returned to tug at the edges of her pretty lips. She nodded respectfully. “I’ll eagerly await your arrival, my Potentate.”
Scowling at himself as she departed, Varse wanted to undo what he had done. Instead, he lingered at the edge of the rooftop in thought.
A storm of fire was consuming the world. Be it years or decades away, it would one day touch the snow of The Domain. Salik lurked in the heart of such a storm, attempting to put an early end to it. Should Varse’s son fail, a bloody cataclysm was inevitable.
The Potentate turned away from the edge. He ventured down through the tower to emerge into the circular core of the building. He would not face his old enemy unprepared when the time came.
Rather than following the pull of his yearning to his quarters immediately, he ventured to stand at the edge of the balcony that ran along the internal walls of the circular training arena. Peering down, he saw Vesh, briefly meeting his gaze. Still scarred and wearing the eyepatch adorned with a red gem, the old Dril offered a smirk and a nod. All was proceeding as planned.
The noise of combat echoed through the spacious chamber. Below, Vesh was surrounded by dozens of children of varying ages. Varse gripped the railing as he watched them, studying the spawn of his enemy.
His hidden breeding facilities were more than proving their worth, producing hundreds of new babies born from The God Emperor’s blood each year. Such children grew under the guidance of Shai agents, conditioned to serve The Domain with their lives, for such was the purpose of their conception.
It was a vile thing to bring more of his enemy’s powerful spawn into the world, Varse knew. Still, year after year, he continued to endure the necessity of such an act.
Many of the eldest children born within his facilities, along with those Salik and his agents had kidnapped from The Human Basin years ago, had reached an age where their true training could begin. Below, Vesh shouted instructions as he taught his young pupils to fight. The group was a mixture, predominantly human, yet with several Arkos and Tazik hybrids. All where the children or grandchildren of his enemy. They obeyed the grizzled Dril’s commands without hesitation, eagerly learning to use a blade as they were trained to face their source in battle.
Varse studied them. Below was only a single example among dozens of training halls which had been built across The Domain to secretly train his hidden assets, though Vesh received the children who offered the greatest potential.
The strange powers they had inherited from The God Emperor had begun to emerge in many of the children, though that advantage would require time to study and understand.
Below stood the only hope of Varse’s people. Every hour, every day, every year, he secretly worked to ensure The Domain would be prepared for the day their true enemy turned his vile silver gaze to their homeland.
The God Emperor’s flames burned the jungle. Varse gradually built an army of the human’s own blood that could hold back his power with their own.
Varse was no commander, no man of war, yet he would continue to plunge his hands into the filth of the world like a Tsrisu farmer and do what was necessary. He could not fight in battle, yet he would forge an army, a shield that would stand before the coming flames. He would strive to defend his people, their homeland, their customs, until his end.
“May you learn the depths of my defiance, Dominax,” he whispered harshly. “May you take your final breath among the snow.”
Turning his back to the results of his distasteful deeds, he left the training arena behind. Venturing into the tower once more, he followed his yearning at last.
Every level of the tower was much the same, consisting of several chambers encircling a central stairwell. The apprentices were housed in snug rooms, while the entire top level was divided into two large chambers, one for Vesh, and one for Varse to reside in during his visits to the city.
Varse ascended the tower with swift steps. Even into his fifth decade of life, he was far from old for a Dril. He reached the top without a hint of physical exertion.
His thoughts dueled with his desire, feeling the weight of Tsida’s memory upon his shoulders. It was a weight he had endured for decades, a familiar feeling of guilt that had long become a part of him. He wasn’t quite ready to relinquish it, he realized.
A thought of Darida waiting for him urged him to act, yet so too did his reluctance dampen his desire. As he reached the door to his private quarters, he was in the process of seeking a polite way to dismiss the girl without disappointing her a second time. As he opened the door and beheld what awaited him, however, his thoughts fell away.
There, upon his bed against the far wall, Darida rested atop sheets decorated with the colors of Clan Chalvarrus, black and orange. On her side and facing the door, no hint of silk concealed her, for her short dress lay discarded. With a lazy smile, she ran a finger up her curves, offering a view of gentle white hills. “Welcome, my Potentate.”
Varse’s humorless expression did not change, yet he lingered in silence in the doorway.
A vision of Dril beauty, she ran her hands idly over her snow-colored body. Pristine, purely white, her skin almost appeared to glow against the black backdrop of the bed’s sheets and the dark headboard. Only her tattoos stained her skin, matching the dark silks.
“I’ve always liked this chamber,” she muttered, happily caressing her pregnant swell. “I continue to dust it during the months between your visits even when Vesh says it’s not necessary.”
His quarters had been decorated with all the familiar comforts of his home city. The stone walls were covered in artworks and carvings created by local artisans, attempting to capture all that made Ishtai unique within The Shai Domain. Their local culture was undoubtedly influenced by the nearby river separating The Domain from the crimson swamp of the Lish, as well as the many farms beyond the city’s edge. Aquatic monstrosities were depicted among the intricate etchings found throughout the room, and an artwork of a lonely Dril standing in a vast field of white hung above the bed.
Among the collection of the beauty his Clan had produced, Darida alone held his attention. A living, breathing member of Clan Chalvarrus easily outshined the lifeless decorations, no matter how elegantly crafted.
He wanted to send her away. He wanted to change his mind. Instead, he closed the door behind him and stepped forward.
She watched him with lazy excitement, her head empty of all thoughts but for what was about to occur.
“If Vesh tasked you with pleasing me, you may go. I have no use for false passions,” he said sternly. Holding sole control of The Council, the weight of absolute power was an ever-present agony in his grasp. It offered persistent temptation, a knowledge that he could cast aside their traditions of equality and force any of his fellow Dril into his bed, for no one held the ability to stop him. His power was an abomination. Never would he give into his temptations. “I offer no threat nor the promise of political power. I shall grant you no punishment or reward. Remain only if this is truly your desire.”
Darida was well aware of The Potentate’s reputation, as most citizens of Shai were. Those who approached Varse with friendly smiles and the hope of gaining his ear were swiftly left disappointed. Many dishonest beings may look upon a man they could not corrupt nor sway with contempt, yet she cared nothing for power nor rewards. “I am here by my own desire, and here I shall remain, my Potentate.”
Varse’s stern features eased imperceptibly. The world seemed to crave corruption. The girl before him held no thought further than the moment of carnal passion they were about to share.
There was nothing but Tsida to hold him back. All excuses of escape had vanished, leaving him only with the choice to act upon his urges with a willing lover. As he began to remove his robe, he made his decision.
The pregnant girl watched with a lazy grin as The Potentate disrobed, more than pleased with what she saw. As he stood before her, bare of all but the Chalvarrus tattoos they both shared, she beckoned for him to join her atop the sheets.
Varse could resist no longer. Mounting the bed, he felt the smooth softness of her skin as he rested his hand upon her hip. Bare Dril flesh meeting with the desire to share a moment of comfort with his own kind, his grip tightened.
Darida rose to meet his lips. His stern features did not hinder her advances, for she tasted the man she had long admired from afar.
The taste of her was familiar. Though she was a stranger, in truth, she was a Dril. They shared a Clan, a homeland, a culture, a common source, all he sought to protect.
Her hand crept down to find her prize, gliding her fingers down the length of his manhood with a moan. Her touch shattered whatever barrier remained between them. As if to match her explorations, Varse dared to slide his hand up her thigh. They were creatures of the snow and the cold, yet as his fingers discovered what he craved, he felt her warmth.
Darida’s petite body quivered at his touch, pushing her hips forward to encourage his fingers to sink deeper. Her pretty lips parted, her red eyes fluttering without a concern in the world.
Varse felt her slick need. His loins stirred with a warmth of his own, yearning for the body in his grasp.
“My Potentate…” she muttered smoothly. “Allow me the privilege to climb atop you.”
He nodded, though his humorless lips tightened. Still his people misunderstood. He didn’t want to be able to allow them anything. Why should it be a privilege to experience his presence? He was merely a man. If anything, he was a servant to them all.
Easing onto his back, he watched as Darida straddled his waist, her dainty body maneuvering nimbly despite her early pregnancy. She ran her hands seductively down his bare chest, gliding up the shaft of his manhood as it stood against her midriff.
He took hold of her thighs with gritted teeth, feeling his cock straining with desire at the tantalizingly close proximity of her sex.
She began to rock her hips, rubbing her delicate pink lower lips up and down the length of his shaft, coating his cock in her slick excitement. Her lazy gaze watched the twitches of need in his stern features. She offered a calm grin.
With simmering anticipation, she lifted her hips. Varse offered a stern nod as she hesitated. She pressed herself against the tip of his snow-colored manhood. A low groan uttered from her parted lips at last as she sank down, taking his cock deep inside her.
The feeling of her snug Dril cunny washed away his thoughts. Gone was Tsida. Gone was the burning jungle, if only for a brief, merciful moment.
For the first time in decades, he felt the loins of a member of his own kind squeezing around his rigid shaft, holding him tightly and coaxing a deep groan from him.
Though no more or less stimulating than his many previous lovers, Darida offered a different sensation he had nearly forgotten. Her touch, her body, her warmth, everything about her offered a natural familiarity he could not find between the legs of an outsider. His Dril cock deep inside a Dril twat, red eyes meeting red, his instincts yearned for the stranger atop him as if he had known her all his life.
She began to rock her hips, cradling her petite swell as she carefully savored her Potentate’s cock. His hand traveled up her side to trace over her Chalvarrus tattoos. The black patterns were identical to his own, as was tradition, though hardly did it matter. Had she come from any other Clan, he would feel the same burning familiarity.
Grinding his cock inside her, Darida’s simple gaze fluttered in bliss. She knew nothing of their inevitable bloody future. Uttering a soft moan, she thought only of the tingling pleasure pulsating through her loins with every movement of her hips.
His hands ventured further up her body. Craving to discover more of her, though her petite body concealed few secrets, he dared to reach up and take her breasts into his grasp. The white flesh of her chest rose subtly into two small mounds, each capped with a pink bud.
The girl smiled with approval at his touch. With her small breasts fitting perfectly into his grasp, Varse could feel her nipples against his palms, hard with desire.
Her pregnancy was his only salvation. He knew without a doubt that he would be unable to pull his cock free of her alluring warmth when the time came.
A Potentate held no time for a family. In his dreams, he settled down with a Dril mate upon the farm he so craved. It was forever a dream, for he had known his life was no longer his when he accepted the mantle of The Potentate.
Had the girl made her offer while her womb was empty and fertile, he would have left her alone with a child to raise. Another Salik. Another mistake. Her pregnancy was a mercy to them both. He savored her body without fear.
He held little doubt about the paternity of her unborn child. Vesh’s assistants seemed to frequently fall pregnant while serving him. Varse cared little. Many burdens weighed The Potentate down. The swollen belly before him was one of the few things he would leave to another man to endure the guilt of.
His fingers lightly toyed with her hard nipples, feeling her pink buds. They were certain to nurture her unborn baby, the next generation of his people. She held great respect for him, yet never would most of the population, young or old, know of his efforts to protect them. So be it. He cared nothing for their adulation. May his name be forgotten for all he cared, so long as they were safe.
Darida’s head fell back in bliss as she idly caressed the curve of her pregnant belly. Her movements were slow, passionate, using her flexible form to milk the shaft of her Potentate. Her body was young and vital, savoring the cock of a man decades older than her. Since long before her birth, he had served as the hidden guardian of her people and their ancestors’ beliefs. She showed a gratitude very few would ever care to offer as she rocked atop his lap.
He moved his hips beneath her, subtly matching her rhythm while his fingers manipulated her small breasts. Coaxing her moans well enough, he realized he was treating her as he had any other previous lover. All females of every humanoid species upon Magnius shared basic physical assets he had long learned to utilize, yet so too did each species have their unique traits.
One hand parted from her chest to venture further up. She peered down at him, her lazy gaze filling with glee. Knowing what he intended to do, she eagerly bowed her head to aid his reach.
Taking hold of the base of her ear, he gently stroked up to its pointed tip. Repeating the motion, he felt her vaginal walls squeeze tightly around him as her thighs quivered.
After so many years, Varse had almost forgotten how to make love to his own kind. Old tricks returned to him slowly. It didn’t work on every Dril, to be sure, yet the odds were in his favor. His luck was proven, for he found that the trick certainly worked on Darida.
“M…my Potentate…” Moaning, the girl’s eyes fluttered as he continued to caress her sensitive ear. Her body twitched atop him.
His humorless features offered little hint of his ample satisfaction as he watched her visible pleasure.
Though clumsy at first, his touch gradually grew accustomed to what she required. As her moans echoed off the decorated walls of his chamber, feeling her wet loins eagerly squeezing and caressing his cock deep inside her, he slowly brought her to her limit.
Throwing her head back, Darida’s slender body trembled as she cried out. He felt her juices soak his lap as she found her finish.
Ecstasy continued to burn in her gaze in the aftermath, diminished by no other thoughts behind her red eyes. Though Varse continued to work to create a rational society of intelligent Dril working together to find reasonable solutions, the girl held as much of a place in The Domain as the most knowledgeable of scholars. Simple-minded, young, she remained his equal. Such was what their founders had intended. Such were the ideals he would defend with his life.
Varse regarded her as a fellow sovereign being atop him. As thoughts of The God Emperor’s flames forced their way through his pleasure, his stern features grew harder. Continuing to rock his hips beneath her, he moved to hold her legs tightly for support.
He would protect the best among them. He would protect the simplest among them. He would forge an army to defend the child growing in her womb, and he would preserve their homeland and customs for all the generations yet to follow.
Gritting his teeth, he could endure the bliss of her cunny no more. With his grip tightening, he groaned as her efforts milked the seed from his manhood at last.
His hard features spoke little of the pleasure coursing through his loins as his seed shot inside her pregnant sex. Hands quivering, he let the feeling pass through him, leaving a sensation of deep relief pulsating gently through his form in the wake of his finish.
In the silence that followed, he could offer only a nod of gratitude.
Carefully rising, she let his manhood slip from her tight loins with a soft gasp. She reached down to hold her pink lower lips, chuckling as she savored the warmth of his seed inside her. “I must say, I’m far from disappointed, my Potentate.”
He made no move to rise as he beheld her satisfied grin.
The minutes that followed were fleeting. He craved to keep her at his side, feeling her warmth as she remained in his bed. When she rose at last, however, he made no move to stop her.
Darida had temporarily eased his worries, as was her desire. The aftermath was mechanical, for she retrieved her dress and donned it once more. “I must clean myself. Vesh cares little about what I do so long as it does not interfere with my duties.”
As she moved to depart, he suppressed an urge to stop her. A dream of what could have been died upon his tongue. In this life, there would be no farm, no simple existence. “I am in your debt,” he said instead.
“How quickly debts are forgotten in this world,” she replied with a wink before slipping out the door.
Varse was left alone with her words. Perhaps there was more to the simple girl he watched depart. Perhaps not. It mattered little. He would defend her and all the rest from the consuming flames of The God Emperor.
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