The Phoenix Of Faalak Ch 03

This is the third and final part of my BDSM story with a fantasy setting. I would recommend reading chapters 1 and 2 before reading this selection.

***************

Br'eila of Ke'we'y glared at me through eyes of emerald ice. Like me, she had molten ebony waves with a tracery of scarlet that indicated that she, too, was a firebreather.

Around us, sounds of revelry and feasting created a pleasing cacophony. Kie'ran had insisted upon the lushest, most opulent furnishings and tapestries for this all-important evening. Perfectly roasted beast and fowl combined with the aroma of perfectly baked bread and fresh vegetables dotted with fragrant herbs and spices to create a heady sensory experience.

Court entertainers juggled fire from their own fingers and mouths while dressed in luxurious velvet costumes of a deep purple hue. Plush cushions of the cerulean blue that matched my mate's eyes softened the heavily adorned bronze chairs upon which we sat.

And Br'eila, rather than being entertained and awed by our kingdom's display of hospitality and celebration, looked upon the banquet with avarice and a desire to acquire.

She had supped, sampling the delicacies of our kingdom, towering sweet and creamy pastries which were true feats of artistic magnificence. After she drank the last dregs of sweet nectar from her goblet, she stood to announce, "Your false show of hospitality betrays your fear of me, and rightly so. Even now, my armies mass at the boundaries of your outer territories."

The queen stared down the long banquet table at my sweet king. "You see, King Kie'ran, I intend to possess Fa'alak. We go to war on the morrow." With that, she and her personal guard strode from the deathly silent hall to exit the castle.

****************

"I will leave in the morning to return to the front," I decisively spoke to Kie'ran. The argument was two hours old and continued to rage.

He glared at me, and I could understand the terror he inspired in his enemies in battle. "Desine'aa." His use of my actual name, rather than any titles or derivatives, gave me pause. "You are my queen. I cannot allow you to go when you are to be the mother of the heirs of this kingdom."

"Kie'ran, my king, my mate. There will be no kingdom if I do not go. You cannot go. You must remain to lead our kingdom during the war."

He appeared to struggle within himself for several minutes. When he accepted the inevitability of my departure, he wilted outwardly. "My sana." He caressed my cheek. "You will be missed."

With strong hands and a heavy heart, he pulled me upon his lap. He let go of me only to grasp some rope. "Tonight, you are still my neeheehi. Being my warrior queen does not change that. As a reminder, I will send you into battle with my marks upon you."

Kie'ran twined the rope, looping the rough twisted fibers several times around my wrists until he tossed the other end of the rope on a hook that the kingdom's best craftsman had installed at the top of the bedpost. Effortlessly, he yanked the rope to the point that my body swayed and only my toes held tight to the rug as they sought purchase there.

His fingers curled around the coiled grip of the bre'at's shaft. I inhaled sharply, remembering the arousal that came from experiencing the bre'at's kiss. The burn that the thud released. Kie'ran believed it to be the most sensual of all of the implements at his disposal, and this he revealed to me time and time again.

The stiff tab of the bre'at slid down my cheek, creating a trail of tingles in its wake. I shivered and quaked inside as the tab slid lower down my neck, pressing briefly where my heart beat for him.

I had not uttered words of love, nor had he. But, every day, my heart raced upon hearing him, seeing him, smelling him, touching him, and tasting him.

My mouth opened to tell him, to explain to him, that I loved him, that this separation would be unbearable to me, as well, when the tab fondled a turgid nipple.

A sigh escaped my lips instead. Followed quickly by a moan as his bre'at rose and fell sharply on that upturned nubbin. Again and again, it rained down, and, again and again, I was reduced to shrieks, sobs, moans, whimpers, and, finally, as I could take no more, pleas for release.

I looked down at my body, my tongue slipping across my parched lips. My pale skin, lavishly adorned with ruddy marks, evidence of the bre'at. My heaving breasts, that always seemed too minimal to attract a mate, drew Kie'ran's attention time and again. A framework of criss-cross marks from the bre'at served as proof of his regard.

Kie'ran placed the bre'at gently on the bed. He wrapped his arms around me from behind in an embrace that pressed his unmistakable arousal against the bottom curves of my ass.

Searching fingers rediscovered my clit, stroking the already slick nub once, twice, thrice. "Come, my neeheehi," his harsh whisper stirred the sensitive hairs in my ear, tickling me. With a breathy moan, I climaxed, bathing his fingers with my juices.

My king and Master then reached for another length of rope. Originating at my collarbone, he trussed me, binding first my breasts in an intimate and intricate series of coils and knots.

From there, the knots and twists decorated my front and back. I felt comfortable, yet contradictorily so. Yes, the roughness of the rope abraded my tender skin, continuing the marks of servitude upon my person, but the ropes were carefully balanced by his skilled fingers to not make my body numb.

The final end of the rope was used to pull my knees to my chest and secure my thighs and lower legs together with my legs spread. I dangled from the rope descended from the hook, spread to do his bidding.

Yearning fingers and a questing tongue teased, rapidly diving into my molten core. I let out a strangled gasp of shock as he forced the lovemaking of his wicked tongue and fingers on my bound body.

Just as I approached the precipice, Kie'ran adjusted the rope above me until I lowered to the point that my ass was available to his cock.

With the unguent that he would use to anoint my body before I rode off to battle, he lubed his cock. Nary a word of warning passed before he slid fully into my ass, spreading my cheeks around his shaft. He was already hard, a column of rock as he spread me, as he took me higher with each thrust.

I felt my own shattering orgasm, and my pussy and ass clenched. Hot spurts of his come coated the walls of my ass, filling me to overflowing.

A slow cautious step back and a hard smack to my inner thigh. Then, he cut the rope above my wrists and captured his bound slave only to deposit me tenderly on the bed.

Nimble fingers divested me of my ropes, and those same caring hands drew me close, holding, hoping to ward off the dawn.

********

Dawn crept upon us before either of us were ready, and Kie'ran rode alongside of me and Gi'eta to my warriors under my command. In those precious moments before the sun kissed the ground in welcome, Kie'ran oiled my body to a splendid sheen, helping me to don my battle uniform, a service that should have fallen to Gi'eta, but that I was loath to refuse my Master.

When we were mere handspans from my warriors, men and women seasoned with years of training and battle, Kie'ran and I both dismounted. My soldiers immediately dropped to one knee and rested upon their shields.

My Master's speech was brief. "My brothers and sisters: you are our only hope to save Fa'alak. May the goddess smile on you in this struggle."

In response, the Terrors of the Fa'alak Guard spoke with one bloodthirsty cry, "For Fa'alak!"

With that, my lord pulled me into his fierce embrace, taking my lips in a bruising kiss. Carefully, he lifted me into my saddle atop Epi'raa, my trusted mount.

"Onward!" I screamed, my harsh battle cry again rising to the fore. With sword in hand, I gestured northward, to the most vulnerable border in our kingdom. We were to reinforce the standing guard there by any means necessary.

When we were atop the bluff, I glanced back against my better judgment. Kie'ran sat mounted on Ve'er'ee, and he waved his hand in farewell. I quickly wheeled Epi'raa northward, ignoring the sudden stinging in my eyes. Warriors do not cry. In my head, I heard his mental voice, "Farewell, my love."

********

Nine moon cycles passed. In the north, we managed to stave off several attacks. Our losses were none. Other areas were not so lucky. Our southern border held, as did our east, but with heavy casualties.

I anxiously awaited word of the palace and word of the western border, the border closest to my lord and king. But no word arrived.

One morning, before the dew dried from the high prairie grasses, a scout came from the palace. Battered and bruised, it took him a full day's rest before he could speak of the atrocities he had witnessed.

The western border yielded one moon cycle ago. Br'eila's forces poured in, and she took one of the lesser palaces as her home base.

Then, he intoned the words that chilled me: Kie'ran had been taken prisoner and now resided in Br'eila's dungeon! I flounced from my tent to confer with my closest advisors.

We discussed the various options. None were palatable. Even my most conservative advisors agreed that continuing to only secure the northern border served nothing if our capital had fallen. It was decided, then, that I, with the larger contingent of the warrior force, would return to the palace. A smaller force would remain at the northern border to provide aid to the permanent guard.

I led the warriors southward at first light. The journey took three days as my impatient battle senses struggled to stay at bay. Worry for my people, my land, and my king seemed at odds with my forced inactivity.

We rode through the gates of the city on the third day. Disarray and destruction marred the previous serenity of our kingdom's center. Evidence of looting and lawlessness was visible and obvious in places.

The plan was for Gi'eta to return to the palace to discover if any servants remained in hiding loyal to our king. Dividing the remaining forces in twain, Ava'drak, my bravest warrior and battle leader, took one half to secure the city, pushing Br'eila's forces outward. The half that I led strode resolutely to our fate at her makeshift palace and home base.

We encountered much resistance as we entered her stronghold. My battle-hardened warrior self mindlessly focused my anguish and rage at my opponents, felling fifteen in the opening skirmish. Plowing through each chamber of the palace, we ended the lives of Br'eila's warriors bent on ending ours.

Soon, mere hours later, only one chamber was left to be breached. I sent my men away to secure the outside of the palace and serve as guard if any of Br'eila's men returned to the base for safety. As they turned to follow orders, I slammed open the heavy chamber door.

The evil queen was alone. As if expecting me, she turned with a smile of what was truly false hospitality. "Welcome, Queen Phoenix. I'm sorry to inform you that your king is no longer with us. His life force escaped; he was unable to withstand my torture for more than a week. Your body will soon join his in his old palace."

"My body?" My lip curled, and I struggled not to reveal the despair her words invoked. Kie'ran, dead? Gone? No longer existing? Desperately, I scanned my mind, knowing he was close enough to seek my mind for reassurance.

Nothing. No part of Kie'ran's mind sought mine.

"Don't you mean that your body will be returned to your homeland, broken and bloody?" My voice was no more than a sibilant hiss. My body moving with the same serpentine rhythm of my speech, I approached the darkly robed figure of pure malice.

Her vile chuckle froze my veins. "You presume too much, little queen," she spoke derisively.

I felt the flames rise from her body, and the same answering flames arose in me. My hands clenched into claws that sparked at the nail beds. Hers did the same. Only one of us would survive this battle.

Letting my opening salvo of fire fly, I hit her on the wrist, momentarily injuring her. She was clearly shielded. Repeated balls of flame shot unerringly from my clawed hands, weakening the shields that still held.

I did not have the ability to have a magic shield; however, as the Phoenix, I swallowed the flames that she poured forth upon me, returning them to her, peppering her.

For hours, we fenced with our fire. But I was the battle-hardened one, and my fury spurred me on. When she tripped over her long robe, I stole the opportunity to wrest her heart from its body cavity with my bare hands.

Rotting and putrid, the seat of her powers, and of her villainy, seared my hands. I glared down at Br'eila as her remaining life's blood poured from the gaping wound. She was now completely heartless.

I reached down on the desk, spying the King's Charter, and curled it surreptitiously within my hand.

But the heart I held in my hand exploded with the force of a million stars, forcing me from the palace that burned from our battle.

********

Groaning, I felt the fingers of my left hand clench around a handful of ash that used to be the King's Charter before the evil queen of the neighboring kingdom set fire to the city. My skin was burned, blackened, and sooty in places.

I reached for my shield with the crest of the phoenix on it. Did she really think to be rid of me so easily? Like the phoenix, I shall rise from the ashes. Laughing at my sally, I struggled to stand.

Biting my lips, at odds with my battle-hardened persona, my mind reflected on what Br'eila taunted me with. Kie'ran, my mate, our king, was dead. Held in her thrall, he subsided into non-existence.

I looked down at my form and assessed my injuries with an impartial eye. My thigh-high bull-leather black boots that protected me (and enticed men) through so many battle-heavy months lay in shreds. Lacerations webbed my tender white calves, now blackened with soot. My thighs were bare as my leather battle skirt burnt in the inferno, as well. My fighting bustier fell in two rags, the strings long singed to nothing. My pierced nipples that marked my loyalty to my mate were sore with burns.

I knew that, if I looked in the murky water at my reflection, I would truly not be the cossetted pet held in His Majesty's arms.

For the first time, I observed my surroundings. My favorite place, Pi'naa, the lush forest, was burnt to splintering twigs. My safe place. A warrior should never cry, so it was sweat I wiped away from my eyes that smeared the ash and soot further on my face.

I saw bodies of my comrades-at-arms and friends scattered like confetti. Darkness set in, so I followed the torchlight to the palace that had been my home since Kie'ran plucked me out of his court and placed me securely at his feet.

In the back of my mind, I registered one further horror. The collar, the visible symbol of my loyalty to my mate, my Master, my king, had been singed away, as well. Irrationally, I realized this categorized me as a free woman. Resolutely, I entered through the heavy doors of the palace.

With eyes hazy from the smoke that seemed to permeate everywhere—including on me, I dropped my shield wordlessly inside the castle keep and trudged slowly up the heavy, cold stone steps to Kie'ran's bedchamber. There he lay, shrouded in the dark grey symbolizing burial.

For the final time, I knelt before him, my "sweat" falling faster from my eyes as I could no longer hide my sorrow at the kingdom's loss...at my loss. I pressed my lips, having heard of the old tales involving kisses that revived princesses, against his as I was rarely allowed to do in life. Cold marble-like skin remained unmoving beneath me. In desperation, I removed his burial shroud, renting it with my sooty hands, darker than the storm cloud hue of the wispy fabric.

His magnificent phallus, which I stroked, kissed, licked, sucked, and held tight in my two lower holes as he pleasured me beyond compare, was hard even in death. I reached out, curling my fingers curiously around him.

The shroud kept it warm, funny, when the rest of his skin was cold. My hand stroked, a final salute. And then, because I could not resist, I kissed his rigid staff tenderly, licking it in farewell before taking the head in my mouth for a light suck.

Then, I felt the air around me stir and watched with shock at the inconceivable truth happening before me as he tugged me up his body, alive again, for a passionate kiss.

My tears fell freely as I returned his kiss, his mate, his wife, his queen, not his warrior, for once. Words of love spilled forth from our trembling lips, needy after so many moon-cycles of separation.

Eventually, he lifted me from him and whispered, "Go to our chamber. There is a box there under the bed. Bring it to me," he demanded imperiously.

He must not realize yet that we were in our bedchamber. I knelt further and pulled the strongbox from beneath the bed. When I handed it to him, he smiled. "My Desine'aa. I meant to do this before Br'eila ended our time together, but I will do so now."

Using a key from beneath the box, he opened the lock which snicked open with a soft sound. Within the box lay a metal circlet, roughly the same circumference as my neck. Hands that had soothed me, thrilled me, lifted the circlet, fastening it around my neck.

"This, my neeheehi, my sana, my queen, is a collar that can never singe away. You will wear this permanently, for it is as unending as my love for you." In his true masterful fashion, Kie'ran did not ask for my permission. Rather, as an afterthought, he basked in the warmth of the smile I bestowed upon him. And in the kiss that sealed my servitude and our love.

***********************

It hardly needs to be said, but Desine'aa and Kie'ran lived happily ever after...