A:Ehh

Chapter 4 - The Black Panther

Okaya and Nike both stood vigilant outside the double-doors that led to King T'Challa's private quarters, spears in hand. Both were clad similarly, if not precisely alike; while there was no official uniform for the members of their order, the tradition was that members dressed with an eye towards practicality; none of them wore clothing that was in any way restrictive of swift movement, in case they were called upon to fight in defense of their king. Both carried knives and spears that appeared to be of traditional tribal manufacture, but in fact also were built inculcating the unique vibranium-based technology of their homeland.

Both women were members of the Dora Milaje, an order of female attendants taken from the rival eighteen tribes of Wakanda, representing the smartest and most athletic flower of Wakandan femininity. Those who passed the tests and were accepted for training were the best and the brightest Wakanda had to offer; they were educated as far as they themselves desired, and highly-trained combatants. The Dora Milaje translated as "Adored Ones", and the order served the king as bodyguards and attendants, and often were chosen as wives for the reigning monarch as well.

Okaya and Nike in particular were eager to regain some of the ground they had felt they had lost when the usurper M'Baku had slain the old king, T'Chaka, in single combat and taken the throne. According to the ancient ways, M'Baku had ruled by right of victorious combat; nobody but the exiled Prince T'Challa had known that M'Baku had cheated. Many of the Dora Milaje had treated M'Baku with the same loyalty and obedience that they had given T'Chaka, as their oaths of fealty was to the monarch as an institution, not personally sworn. Those who didn't feel that they could fulfill their oath to M'Baku as king had chosen exile.

Both Okaya and Nike had chosen to remain, both when M'Baku had taken the throne and when T'Challa had taken it from M'Baku. T'Challa had seemed to understand where their loyalties lay when he had regained the throne, going so far as to choosing them to accompany him to the United States, where he assigned them to the staff of the Wakandan Embassy.

Or perhaps he wanted them close so that he could keep a wary eye on them. Perhaps both; T'Challa appeared to be a master of the subtle stratagem.

Both of the women heard the noise from the chambers behind them at the same time. "Okaya Control. Unidentified noise in the Royal Apartments; we are entering to investigate," Okaya reported via the communications link in her traditional-appearing bracers as the two women electronically overrode the locks to T'challa's chambers.

To their surprise and disappointment, the noise had bee made T'Challa himself.

"My apologies," he began, seeing the looks on their faces. "I should be less secretive about my own comings and goings, but even a king should know how to enter and leave his private chambers undetected - one never knows when one will need to make a secret and untraceable exit." T'Challa smiled at the guards.

"With respect, my King... while it may be useful for a ruler upon occasion, it reflects poorly the ruler's guards, who are sworn to protect and defend him," commented Nike, with only a tinge of surliness in her voice. King T'Challa had already gained notoriety among those who served as difficult and willful. It was a difficult and thankless job, being a guard to a king who insisted on putting himself in danger by joining a group of super-powered adventurers like the Avengers.

"Well, you will have to, as my friend Hawkeye says 'step up to the plate'" T'Challa chuckled. The two Dora Milaje bristled at his comment. They had both met the brash archer known as Hawkeye on his visits to the Wakandan Embassy, and found his manner abrasive. "Since you are here, please draw me a bath - my exertions have left me... well, let me just say that with the heightened senses granted me by the Panther God, my odor is quite painful."

Okaya and Nike smiled. It was clear that whatever their king had been doing, it had been rather active, even without the blessings of the Panther God. Nike went to the king's bath chamber to begin, while Okaya quietly reported her king's location, their new deployment, and requested replacement guards for the door.

Okaya and Nike slowly removed the sacred Panther garb from their king, trying to read his mood. Unlike many of the previous kings, T'Challa rarely availed himself of the more carnal duties of the Dora Milaje, which they usually found enjoyable. His predecessor, M'Baku, had been a lout of violent and savage desires; rather than take care for his partners in love-making, M'Baku was more inclined towards cruelty and rape. Several of the Dora Milaje had died from injuries while serving him during his reign, and none regretted his defeat at the hands of T'Challa.

The Dora Milaje didn't quite know if T'Challa was naturally gentle, and more disciplined than typical males, or if he was respectful of the Dora Milaje's experiences at the hand of the Man-Ape, but on those few occasions when he had indulged himself, he had proven himself a skilled and considerate lover.

Piece by piece they removed his uniform, taking great care; while appearing simple, the pieces were built of special fibres and interwoven with sensors and vibranium filaments. More than just cloth, the uniform of the Black Panther was able to absorb all kinds of energies from across the spectrum, including (to a degree) kinetic energy. While the pieces, being part of the garb of a warrior-king, were not delicate, they were expensive and difficult to replace, and their optimal functioning in the field kept their monarch safe from harm.

"Would my king like us to scrub his back?" Okaya purred at T'Challa as he was entering the steamy, soap-filled water.

"Won't that get your clothing all wet?" T'Challa asked, his voice redolent with his wry and understated humor.

"Well, maybe Nike will help me with that..." she replied as the other Dora Milaje came up behind her. While T'Challa watched, Nike came up behind the shapely woman and slowly slid the sole shoulder strap of her tunic from her shoulder, sensually touching Okaya's skin as she did so. Okaya closed her eyes as Nike's hands lowered the yellow garment from her ripe breasts, revealing them to T'Challa's gaze. Fingers danced across the smooth skin until they touched hard nipples, teasing them, stroking them. The tunic fell downwards further, no longer held by Nike, to gather at Okaya's hips. Nike's hands cupped Okaya's breasts, seemingly offering them to T'Challa. Nike's lips nibbled on Okaya's shoulder near the nape of Okaya's neck, and smiled inwardly as her ministrations brought a moan from Okaya's lips.

This was not the first time that Nike had touched Okaya in an intimate manner; the Dora Milaje were all normal, healthy women, but pledged to the service of the King of Wakanda. They were not allowed to have male lovers, as the provenance of any children they might bear had to be undoubted. Some of them took their pleasures by themselves, or even by developing a passion for being taken by a lover in the ass, but the majority of the Dora Milaje satisfied their physical and emotional needs by taking female lovers within the order itself. Although technically forbidden, the monarchs of Wakanda had themselves developed a tradition of looking the other way - often while looking right at their erotic loveplay. Many of the Dora Milaje who had successfully enticed King T'Challa into their beds had done so with another Dora Milaje partner.

Leaving off her oral assault on Okaya, Nike knelt on the edge of the sunken tub where Okaya stood, and eased the tunic over Okaya's hips, leaving her clad only in a very non-traditional white silk thong. While the Dora Milaje almost always wore their ceremonial tunics while on-duty, many of them preferred the sexy, soft, stimulating lingerie of the decadent West to the archaic linen breast bindings and loin coverings used by most of the Wakandan population.

Nike turned Okaya sideways so that Nike faced her backside, and took the sides of Okaya's thong in her hands. Alternating sides, Nike lowered the thong while kissing and biting the hard muscle of Okaya's ass, feeling her tremble beneath her nips and soft bites. When the thong was about to Okaya's knees, Okaya brought her legs nearly together, and stepped out of the thong, turning back towards T'Challa.

Okaya stepped into the water, reaching for the luffa sponge. T'Challa sat still while she drenched the luffa with the hot, soapy bath water and began to run it over his upper body. She made sure that the luffa sponge was not the only thing that rubbed T'Challa's hard, muscular body.

Okaya moved into T'Challa's embrace, standing so that she could reach his back. While she gently scrubbed, her breasts rubbed across T'Challa's face, and he took advantage of their proximity to kiss the tender flesh. "That is not the most effective posture for cleaning my back", he commented.

"Is that a complaint, my king?" Nike said. She had moved near the two of them, leaning against the wall. She had raised her own orange tunic above her hips, and was stroking her shaven mound with two fingers as she enjoyed the decidedly nontraditional bathing ritual.

"Merely an observation," T'Challa chuckled, taking one of Okaya's hard nipples between his lips, biting gently at first, kissing and tonguing while Okaya tried to keep at least a semblance of composure. Okaya loved to be the center of attention, and her king pleasuring her while her lover Nike watched and touched herself was driving Okaya rapidly to orgasm. She watched while Nike's fingers stroked her own labia and clitoris, polishing the little pleasure knob like fine jewelry, gleaming with her own wetness. Nike and Okaya locked eyes, and it was a toss-up as to which of them was enjoying herself more.

Taking the initiative, Okaya slowly pushed T'Challa backwards, pressing her breasts against his face. When T'Challa was bent over backwards, Okaya slid forward and impaled herself on his hardened mahogany cock. She moaned in pleasure - T'Challa's cock was what all the women of the Dora Milaje dreamed about. None of the Dora Milaje used artificial ways to prevent conception; providing Wakanda with an heir bred of their king was their duty, and a privilege granted to few. Dora Milaje who bore children spent the rest of their service taking care of the child, raising them to adulthood, and then going into semi-retirement, serving as advisers to their scions. A lucky few might even marry the king and be raised to the throne as queen of Wakanda. Given that the Dora Milaje came from all of the different tribes, it assured that any of the tribes might eventually have one of their own as king, and that revolving connection to the throne had given the tribes a vested interest in maintaining peace and stability.

Nike felt a twinge of jealousy intermixed with desire as she watched her lover mount her king. She craved to have his hard cock invade her very core, to split her open with his virility, and to soak her womb with his seed, but Okaya had gotten there first. She watched as her lover's velvet lips plunged down onto T'Challa's cockshaft with a lewd sound, and suddenly all she could think about was how good Okaya's pussy would taste with her sweet cunt-honey mixing with T'Challa's cock.

Suiting action to thought, Nike slipped into the water and lowered herself until her head had an unobstructed view of Okaya's pussy enveloping T'Challa's cock. Leaning forward, Nike began to lick Okaya where T'Challa's cockshaft entered her, sucking and tonguing both pussy and cock as T'Challa slowly fucked his servant. Nike sucked on his balls, first one, then the other, stroking his wet cockshaft with her nose. Okaya was producing a great deal of lubrication, and Nike took full advantage of this, savoring the taste of her lover's excitement.

Okaya began to convulse, her king's cock and Nike's tongue driving her to a series of orgasms. Her muscles gripped T'Challa's cock tightly, and she began to babble. "Give me your seed, my king... mark me as yours, fill me with your essence... make me yours, T'Challa. Love me, fuck me, cum inside me!:

T'Challa, being a gracious monarch who understood that fealty, loyalty, and duty must run both ways for a good monarch, did as his servant commanded. With an animalistic feline roar, he emptied himself into Okaya, his hips lifting her, penetrating her even deeper than before, his hands gripping her hips as if attempting to prevent her from escaping. Nike retreated away, not wanting to become accidentally injured as the Black Panther erupted like a volcano into his faithful Dora Milaje. She looked at her lover, and then at her king.

"You have not seen the last of me, T'Challa son of T'Chaka," she thought, swearing an oath to herself. "I will clean you and make you comfortable, then I will take what of your seed I can from Okaya's flesh, and then... and then, we will see the true stamina granted you by the Panther God!"