Ellora's Heart

Author's Note: Sorry this took so long to update! A lot has changed. Also, I purposely changed the story from past tense to present (from this chapter onwards). And thank you so much to everyone who commented on and messaged me about my last piece! I hope you enjoy this one!

--Lamb

Chapter 2

Ellora

Nobles and officials line the walls of the throne room. They chat amongst themselves in hushed tones, nervous but excited for the king's arrival. I watch as Queen Merissa scans the crowd with half-lidded eyes. My place is directly beside her ornate chair, on the right side, and I stand with my head low, as a prized pet is still a pet. No matter how many years pass, my cheeks never fail to grow warm in front of the familiar crowd. I tug at the hem of my dress. Everyone knows of my relationship with the queen. They know what we do. Our relationship is private but not secret. Plenty of noblemen have been bold enough to ask my mistress for my services, but she always denies their proposals. Still, their glances are lingering.

"Is it uncomfortable?" my queen asks suddenly.

I turn to her with wide eyes. "What do you mean, mistress?"

Her gaze drops to my throat, her lips pressed into a thin line, and I realize I have been absentmindedly caressing my collar.

"No, mistress," I tell her. "I simply like the way it feels."

The corners of her mouth curve up as she turns to face the crowd again.

Movement to my right catches my attention, and I turn to investigate. Kiero, a dear friend, steps onto the raised platform and kneels before Merissa. His shirt and pants are white with golden accents, and he wears a short white cape over his shoulders. His clothing informs others of his position: a high-ranking attendant. The son of a modest lord. He could also be called a professional queen wrangler. It is Kiero's job to make sure Merissa is where she needs to be when she needs to be there. He also ensures all events go off without any setbacks. Merissa waves her hand at him. Permission to speak.

"Your guests have arrived, Your Majesty," he says in a clear voice.

A hush falls over the room and people move to stand in organized groups. Women turn to each other, asking how their outfits look. The men stand taller. Kiero slips away but not before shooting me a smile and offering a tiny wave of his hand. I return his gestures.

My mistress rises from her seat and clasps her hands together. Two attendants take this as their cue to open the giant doors that connect the throne room to the entrance hall. A representative dressed in pale purple hurries through the doors. Queen Merissa's lower servants wear uniforms of dusty red, so it's obvious this man is part of the king's entourage. He makes his way to the center of the room, keeping a respectful distance between himself and the throne, and bows deeply with his left hand placed over his chest. My fingers twist each other behind my back. My blood rushes through my veins.

"I greet you and your subjects humbly, Merissa, Queen of Aruven. Allow me to present King Selvin of Terulia," the attendant announces. An extensive explanation is unnecessary. Everyone knows who is about to walk through those doors.

The representative steps aside, his head kept low. Eight guards march through the doorway to line the path for their king. They carry their achievements as colorful ribbons on their chests, and the two at the front of the group hold spears. The men spread out along the golden carpet with four on each side and wait for their commander. A low murmur rises among the crowd, but it quiets when the main event appears in the doorway.

King Selvin's violet robes brush the carpet as he takes his measured steps down the aisle. Dark hair, deep blue eyes, and a pretty face cause a few ladies to fan themselves. There's a gentle smile on his face, and I'm able to breathe a bit easier. Although the stories about him are positive, I can't help but worry about getting along with the king. A strained relationship between us could hurt my relationship with my mistress. And that is my darkest nightmare. I steal a glance at Merissa and find an indecipherable glint in her eye.

One bodyguard of high rank follows close behind the king. The Draveian. Merissa's words from our bath earlier echo in my head, and I shift my weight from one leg to the other. He stands a head taller than his master. Golden eyes survey the room with animalistic intensity. The hilt of a giant sword peeks over his shoulder--a silent threat to those who may oppose him--but it's his masculine confidence that makes him intimidating. A few people step back when he passes in front of them, and this only seems to fuel his pride. He presses his shoulders back, a tiny smirk spreading across his face as the men stop in front of the throne.

"The kingdom of Aruven welcomes you, Your Highness," Queen Merissa says with a polite smile, her voice ringing through the hall. A murmur of agreement comes from the crowd.

"Please accept my sincerest gratitude. I look forward to our time together," the king responds, that soft smile not wavering in the slightest.

Merissa glances toward the open arches leading to the gardens. "The day is beautiful. Shall we step outside for a short walk? Your retinue will be attended to."

The king agrees, and our little group of four heads for the closest arch. As my mistress passes by a servant, she leans in close and whispers into his ear. He trots away after bowing twice. Part of me wants to ask what is happening, but another part makes me fold my hands and lower my gaze. If it is important, I shall find out soon.

Fifteen minutes later and the fresh air of the gardens isn't helping me breathe easier as the Draveian's eyes bore into me. My mistress converses with her betrothed a few paces ahead while the Draveian remains close by my side. He is meant to stay close to the king in order to protect him, but every time I glance up at him, I find his startlingly golden eyes on me. He doesn't look away when caught staring like the men who play coy. No, his gaze remains unabashed.

I watch as his eyes rake over my body, lingering for a minute when they pass over my breasts. Heat fills my core, flooding into my limbs, and I'm forced to turn away as he continues to examine me. Such a brazen attitude is new to me. My mistress is bold, but queens are allowed to be bold. The Draveian's boldness stems from a different source. A deep, primal source. I blush, imagining the things he must have done to any pretty maids in King Selvin's palace.

A low chuckle rises from the guard, and I bristle at the thought that this is amusing to him. I'm not sure how much longer I can endure his gaze. The heat that has been steadily building over the course of our walk is now burning every inch of me, and my heart is pounding in my ears. He is only looking at me, but it feels like his hands are all over me, poking and prodding at places only seen by my mistress.

Something brushes lightly against my thigh, lifting the hem of my skirt. I look down to see his hand reaching for me. I swat it away and glare up at him defiantly. Merissa has not given him explicit permission to touch me. Though she probably wouldn't mind, considering the other things she does want us to do.... He seems surprised, caught off guard for the shortest of moments. But the shock on his face is quickly masked with a smirk. A challenge. He tries again, and my response is the same. This time, though, I grab his hand firmly in my own.

Now I've surprised both of us. He watches me with narrowed eyes, but my attention is drawn to how his hand feels in mine. How the rough skin scrapes against me. How the calluses create a unique texture I've never felt before. Only attendants like Kiero and my mistress have touched me, and their hands are smooth and soft, accustomed to diplomatic work and the indoors.

I hold the Draveian's hand in both of mine. The back has seen as much abuse as the palm. Scars from what I assume to be blades cross each other over the bronzed skin, a shade somewhere between my mistress's creamy white and my soft tan. A particularly thick scar begins a few inches below his knuckles and disappears below the sleeve of his white shirt. Curious, I slide a finger across the raised skin. The guard pulls his hand back quickly and balls it into a fist that drops at his side.

He doesn't look at me so brazenly now. He steals a few glances from the corner of his eye, but it's my turn to study him. His face is all strong, sharp angles with a perpetually stern brow. His expression can't quite be called a frown; it looks as though it could slip into one at any moment, though. King Selvin's people don't tend to find beards fashionable, so it's no surprise the guard is clean shaven. And on the left side of his jaw is another thick scar. Letting my gaze fall lower to his chest, I see the beginning of another collection of rough nicks. I'm almost frustrated at his shirt blocking any further viewing.

When I look up, he's watching me again. As we emerge from the shade of a tree, the light catches the red undertone of his brown locks. I had heard Draveians keep their hair long so they can braid it to communicate status or celebration, but there are no braids in his hair. I can't help but wonder why. No recent births in the family? No marriages? No lady to plait it for him? I catch myself and stand straighter.

I glance forward to find my mistress looking back at me with a knowing smile on her face. Only then do I realize we have doubled back and are approaching the giant archways of the throne room. However, it is impossible to see inside, as thick black curtains cascade down from the ceiling to cover each opening. I know what is going on behind them, though.

My mistress moves toward the middle arch and sets her hand against the fabric. It sways slightly at her touch.

"I hope you enjoy what we have planned, my king. This event was originally planned for later this evening, but I just couldn't wait." She pulls back the curtain. "Please."

"Well, I'm certainly intrigued," the king says. He smiles and slips past my mistress with his guard close behind him.

Merissa wraps her hand around my elbow and pulls me to her side. She leans in close and says, "I hope you're ready, Ellora."

It's all I can do to nod meekly at her. I can only guess at what she has planned by the look in her eye. It's thrilling. Maybe a little scary. But I trust my mistress. And it couldn't hurt to get a bit closer to that guard.

The throne room smells of lust and wine. The open space is now filled with lounging sofas and chairs, and my mistress' subjects hadn't waited to start the fun. Hot, writhing bodies fold on top of and under others, limbs tangling and rubbing in an intimate, sensual dance. Some couches have two people. The larger ones have up to six. Other guests pleasure themselves while watching the show.

I squint at the king and his Draveian guard, trying to gauge their reactions in the dim light. Terulians are far from shy, but I wonder if such Aruveni pastimes are still shocking to them. It doesn't seem to be the case. While the king does appear surprised, he isn't displeased. He scans the room with attentive eyes and even points out a few participants, praising their flexibility and fervor. The Draveian must keep his face difficult to read on purpose. But the bulge below his belt gives him away.

"While my subjects entertain themselves, won't you and your guard join us in a more private area?" Merissa asks, her eyelashes fluttering. Her eyes twinkle in the light, and I have to remind myself to breathe.

"Of course," the king says. He presents his arm to her, and she hooks hers under it to hold onto his bicep. "I assume you have something else planned?"

My mistress simply smiles at him. She guides us between the reveling guests to the back corner of the room where there's an unassuming door. I know it leads to a sitting room where she often rests between meetings that take place in the throne room. I wonder what could be in there now.

Kiero stands in a dark corner nearby and swirls deep red wine in a delicate glass. His eyes, which appear as a darker blue in the dim lighting, track the Draveian as we approach. He shifts, licking his lips. Then he sees me. His mild intoxication is obvious in his lopsided smile. I'm glad he's enjoying himself, though, because I'm shaking with apprehension as our group enters the room.

Usually, there is a low table with a sofa and two plush chairs in the center of the room. Now they've been pushed against the wall and replaced with a bed. There are no giant pillows or fancy blankets. It's plain, with just a few sheets spread over the mattress. It's here for a purpose.

Merissa steps forward, dragging her hand along the top sheet, pulling up wrinkles. "You must forgive me for being curious. I have seen Draveians in combat, and I can't help but wonder how they perform in bed. You wouldn't mind having your guard put on a show, right?"

King Selvin considers this for only a moment before turning to his guard. "Thalen," he says.

And that's all the command the Draveian needs. Immediately, he removes his sword from his back and sets it against the nearest wall. The next thing to go is the heavy leather belt on his hips. Then his white shirt.

"Ellora."

My mistress' voice sends a jolt through me, and my body instinctively moves to obey the unspoken command. Pulling the thin straps from my shoulders, I slip out of my dress and shoes. By the time I turn back around, Thalen has finished undressing. My breath catches when I finally get to take in his appearance.

His frame seems more massive without clothes hiding it, and I've never felt smaller. He steps toward me, and I step back until the bed stops me from retreating any farther. My heart pounds against my ribcage as if it's trying desperately to escape. It's nothing like the first time my mistress sweetly coaxed me into her bed, but the same feelings are bubbling up inside me. The same heat settles below my stomach. I want to perform well. For everyone. When I look at the size of him--all of him--I grow nervous. But I can't deny the wetness between my legs. Despite my shaking, I crawl to the center of the bed.

Merissa and King Selvin make their way over to the chairs that have been set side, whispering secrets I can't hear. The guard doesn't so much as glance at them as he approaches me, eyes set on my body. I've never experienced a man, but my mistress and I have played with some extremely realistic toys, though none of them came close to the size of Thalen's manhood. The mattress dips under his weight. He wraps his right hand around my ankle and pulls me towards him. A quick snap from our audience is enough to make the Draveian go still.

"I'm sure you are aware that Thalen isn't the most gentle man," the king says from his seat.

My eyes are on the motionless guard. He's like a statue--a scarred statue. I lift a hand, my breath caught in my throat, and brush it against his chest. The tight muscle presses back when he breathes. He watches me, unable to move, and I take the chance to trace a few of the hard, jagged stripes that cover him. One seems newer than the others. An angry red line that follows the line of one of his ribs. I marvel at his strange beauty. The heat in my center is almost unbearable.

My mistress hums thoughtfully. "Don't worry, sweet Ellora. You trust me, yes?"

Prying my eyes from Thalen, I turn my head to look to her. "Yes, mistress."

She waves her hand and sits back in her seat. King Selvin snaps again.

Thalen grunts and takes both of my wrists into one large hand, pinning my arms above my head. His free hand comes down on my breast, and he gives it a rough squeeze. I let out a whimper, and he does it again. He lowers his mouth to the other one and takes the nipple into his mouth.

I almost don't notice his hand slip down over my waist and hips, coming to rest once it finds its destination between my legs. Two fingers slide up my wet slit. His thumb finds my clit and presses against it. The tip of one finger dips into me momentarily, and I shudder. His fingers are much larger than my mistress's. My apprehension returns for only a moment before it's chased away by the digit slipping inside of me. I gasp as it stretches me, its smooth entrance aided by my arousal.

Thalen lifts his head from my breast. His breathing is steady unlike my ragged panting. He doesn't hesitate to add a second finger. I let out a long moan, and this seems to encourage him. He works his fingers in and out of me. In, out. We fall into a rhythm. In. My toes curl. Out. I moan. In. My back arches off the bed. Out. I tilt my head back and close my eyes.

His mouth finds my breasts again. He sucks on one, tracing the outline of my nipple with his tongue, and then moves to nip at the other. I yelp in response, but he just bites down harder on the soft flesh. My whimper turns into a moan when his thumb rubs against my clit. The fingers inside me reach deeper.

There's movement to our side, but the guard is too focused on me. I can barely see my mistress through my half-shut eyes as she approaches the bedside.

"Enjoying yourself, Ellora?" she asks, bending forward so her face is almost level with mine.

I have to catch my breath to respond. "Yes, mistress."

She smiles and looks down to watch the guard's fingers work inside me. Still, he doesn't pay her any attention. He watches as my breasts bounce with every thrust into me.

"She likes to be touched here," my mistress purrs. She drags a finger down my hip, and the sensation is almost enough to send me over the edge. But she knows to pull back before it does.

Thalen's touch isn't so gentle. He releases my wrists and grips my hip with painful force, pressing me down into the bed without breaking the rhythm of his fingers inside me. And I'm ashamed to admit it might even feel better than my mistress's touch. It pulls a moan from me, and an amused smile spreads across Merissa's face.

Just as I'm about to reach my release--to dive over that edge--Thalen's fingers retreat from inside me. I whine, and the denial makes me dizzy, my hands flying to his shoulders to hold me steady. Like a predator, he climbs over me fully. I feel his manhood drag over my leg as he settles between my thighs. It leaves a wet clear trail from the tip in its wake.

He sits up with one hand wrapped around the base of his cock. The other comes up to my neck. But he doesn't choke me. Just presses down enough to hold me in place. My mistress strokes my face with a slender finger.

"You're doing so well, Ellora. You'll love it," she says. Her touch is safety. I lean into it and sigh.

Without warning, Thalen moves forward, the head of his member pressing into me. I can feel my entrance stretching impossibly wide. I suck in a breath and hold it as he slowly slips inside. After a minute, I think he must be mostly in, but when I look down, it's less than halfway.

There is pain. It burns as he sinks in inch by inch. Hot tears prick my eyes. My mistress brushes them away and whispers soft praises to me. Thalen grips my thigh, shoving my knee up towards my chest. The action seems to open me up, as he slides in to the base with ease. He stretches me further than ever before, and I cry out for my mistress.

"Let him take care of you," she says, gently hushing me. "Let him give you what I can't."

Then she's gone. She steps away from the bed to return to her place beside King Selvin.

Thalen puts my leg over his shoulder to keep the angle he wants. He pulls out halfway before slamming back into me. A shock of pain pulls a cry from me, but it turns into a gasp when I feel his cock press against something deep inside my core. And it feels good. I'm still being stretched, but the painful burn is being replaced by a pleasurable heat.