I placed a device inside of her, a nice piece of technology that the Apparit modified for her human anatomy. It senses the electrical activity in her nerves, and changes its delivery of pulses and vibrations accordingly. I have never used it before, but it’s marvelous. It brings her just to the teetering edge of her orgasm, and then withholds her release. It’s very effective.
While she’s stimulated with this device, and she mewls and howls when it stops, strains and pants when it pleasures her, I indulge in something that I tell myself is crucial to training her.
It’s what I would tell Zethki as well, if he should see me doing it, but I know, deep down inside, that I’m doing it for reasons that are entirely mine. I move my lips over her ribs, barely touching her. Her scent is intoxicating, dangerous, threatening to stir up sensations in mykryth.
Mykrythisboiling, but near my cock, on my inner thighs, along the streak that curls around my leg. She cannot see it, so I continue, even if I know that I should not. When I reach her nipples, they are pebbled, a sign of her arousal. As I brush my lips over them, her body stiffens again. I flick my tongue at them, and then I bite into her flesh gently. When she mewls and arches her back, she makes mykrythpainfully hot. The heat is spreading out to my limbs.
I stand up, and look down at her. I need to leave, to hide my weakness for her, but I linger, staring at her damp hair, her open mouth, her pleading eyes.
“If you beg,” I say, “I will give you the release that you desire.”
She makes a sound, and pants, before shaking her head. Her eyes seem to register this motion as if someone else performed it, and a wild fear comes into them. She has anticipated what I will do to her.
I draw my hand back to the center of her legs, and I adjust the device with my fingers. I slip my own finger up to the hard bundle of nerves that so stimulates human women. When I touch it, her body is set ablaze, and she stiffens again. Her mouth falls open.
I wish she would beg. If she did, I would suck this hard knob between my lips, massage it with my tongue, and pleasure her until she screams. I would lap my fill of the sweet liquid between her legs.
And then, only after her body shuddered away to relaxation, only after she screamed, I would enter her, like a goddess, and make her come for me again.
But she meets my eyes, and I see this spirit flicker in them. It’s what I saw at her father’s gathering. It’s why I chose her instead of her sister. It’s a raw energy that I want to consume, something I want to add to mykryth, but cannot. I feel mykrythignite along my back, crawling up my spine, and she will see it soon.
“No?” I say. I hope I haven’t given away this weakness I have for her. It’s dangerous, and it will pass, but I cannot have it revealed.
She moves her head from side to side.
“Then you will remain,” I say.
I leave quickly, without turning back to look at her. As the door closes I glance inside. She is staring at me, squirming, her eyes wide with panic, but she doesn’t call out.
I run up the stairs to try to rid myself of the energy I don’t want.
I head for the training arena. I will hopefully find someone there to viciously fight.
* * *
“Kapsuk,” Zethki is laughing. “Rys. Cousin.”
His voice changes and he puts an arm on mine. I almost swing at him.
“Stop now, Kapsuk. That is an order!” Zethki yells, losing his patience all at once.
I drop mykatsu’k. Kleriz, a captain and a vicious little thug, keels over and groans. He is bloody, and hiskrythis pale yellow. He is fine, but I’ve been too hard on him for a spar.
Once I stop, Zethki returns to his normal self. He grins at me. “Not enough battles for my cousin,” he says, to the horrified audience gathered around us. He kicks Kleriz lightly with his foot, and he groans miserably. “Not enough war for you, pathetic worm,” he tells Kleriz.
I extend a hand to Kleriz without saying anything. I don’t want to make an enemy of him. He’s a wild and dishonorable fighter, but he’s offended by breaches of honor on the part of all others. He’s like a beast: you must feed him to keep him on your own side, so he will bite others and not you.
He stands, and looks me in the eye.
“You’ve come a long way,” I tell him, smiling. It’s enough for him. He is pleased. In fact he hasn’t come any distance at all, because he undisciplined. I could easily kill him, but I don’t. Not today, anyway.
I have lost control of myself. I’m a decorated warrior, and I have added to mykrythso much that it exceeds the strength and size of any Kerz in living memory. This is something that must be controlled.
I barely remember all the blows I delivered to Kleriz, but I see them now in the dark patches on his skin. He is bleeding over his eye, the purple liquid streaming down his face, into his eyes.
I don’t remember beating him because I was not present as I did so. I barely remember him coming into the arena, looking at me practicing, asking me if I wanted a real fight. He probably asked because he believed I would say no, because I always say no.
I was not present because my mind was with Anya Mann, who I left in the dungeon. No specific thought about her, no coherent feeling. Just the raw, crude consumption of my thoughts with every aspect of her. I cannot excise her from my mind.
