Edge of Lust: Lajoya

Lajoya

It was long past midnight now. Frederick and Lajoya had drunk into the night, heedless of the hour. Jorjet had excused himself an hour earlier, and Lajoya guessed she had surprised Freddy when she, too, excused herself shortly thereafter and retreated down the halls.

She walked now down the deserted hallways, somehow balanced despite the copious wine she'd consumed. She watched behind her as a shadow slid against the edge of the passage. Her lips curled into a sly smile, knowing it was one of two visitors, come to seek her. As if stealth had ever succeeded on her, the lady of manipulation. It always amused her how her underlings still thought their subtlety would escape her notice. It was best that way, actually. Lajoya's pride was hurt to be given credit for so much less expertise than she possessed. But it was useful to be thought dumber than one was. It sealed her success, so she bore it.

Regardless of which visitor was trailing her just now, she knew the perfect place to receive them was in one of these sitting rooms off the main hall. Some of them led to suites, complete with beds, wash basins and even servant's bells, though she likely would not use that. Still, if she was lucky, she would select one of those rooms and be prepared for either eventuality. And she was usually lucky.

The first door she tried was unlocked, and she entered the dark space, stepping slowly till her eyes adjusted to the lack of light. A comfortable chaise lounge met her, with a small side stand, she was delighted to discover, had a bottle of wine and goblet atop it. Only one goblet. Oh well, she grinned to herself. She and her guest would just have to share.

As if on cue, she heard the door open behind her and she spun in her tiger-skin dress, the layers of petticoat gracefully settling in a cloud around her as she sank to the chaise to greet her visitor with utter collect and calm. Lajoya gave the pretense of allowing the individual time to adjust to the darkness while she rapidly scanned every aspect of the personage to inconspicuously identify them. The broad silhouette indicated masculinity, but that did nothing to narrow the possibilities. He said not a word, but approached the chaise cautiously, which either visitor potentially might do. But then Lajoya could hear the labored breathing, barely suffusing raw primal panting.

Only the slight lift of one eyebrow betrayed her reaction to the identity of the one who crossed the threshold. And she met him with the poise of one who'd awaited their announced visit.

"Come for me already?" She trailed the tip of one perfectly manicured nail along her bottom lip, though her motion was likely not visible in the darkness. She filled her lungs with air, deliberately, noisily, knowing the rise and fall of her breasts could not be seen, but knowing the sound would remind the other that this was the motion occurring and tantalize his already crazed mind.

He seemed finally to gain his bearings, and advanced quickly to the chair, dropping to his knees.

Lajoya instantly held out her arms to fend off the start of anything, instead grasping the outstretched hands and guiding them to the bottle.

"Pour me a drink, my leige." She delighted in ordering him about, and she knew it only made him weaker for her. She felt, more than saw, him fumble with the liquid and pressed the goblet into his hand and waited while he filled it.

When the wine had been hurriedly re-corked, she guided the goblet with still both their hands on it to her lips and took a small sip before guiding it to the exposed breast bursting from her bodice and poured the dark liquid between the mounds. She heard him groan, practically amplifying the sound of his cock expanding to impossible hardness, and the weak man could control himself no longer and descended on her breasts, hungrily lapping up the wine and kissing all at once.

"Oh, Lajoya," he groaned between mouthfuls, lifting his hand to join in the ravishing. "You tease."

"Am I the one?" Lajoya breathed, head tilted back as his kisses rose to her neck and back down again. "Who was it all throughout dinner that gave me hungry glances? That, there, beneath the nose of their innocent wife, clasped my fingers, and made me," she breathed shallowly again, "swimming in the juices of my desire."

"Under my wife's nose?" came Frederick's reply between kisses and overlapped with greedy groping of the giant breasts that now heaved with each tense breath. "What of your husband? Who doubtless saw your foot curl none so delicately around my leg."

"Oh, please," Lajoya said, growing tired of the confines of her bodice and unsnapping it rapidly with one hand. One hand flew to her hair pin, and the golden hair piled in magnificent height atop her head cascaded down her shoulders. "You know he is mine to do what I please with. He is my plaything, though he is," she shoved Frederick back to arm's length. "A weak, sorry excuse for a man compared with the beast of Edgeran."

Frederick's eyes widened wildly, and he growled as she rose to her feet, hair and bodice drooping from her as she led the way to the far doors of the room. It was time to see just how lucky she was.

Opening the door behind her, she flung her arms to present the room, fitted with a luxurious bed, and pointed to a lamp on the dresser for Frederick to light.

He ran, obediently, coaxing a flame into it rapidly and turning it on the goddess to finally drink in her beauty for the first time in these dark chambers.

She stood tall, hips cocked to one side, her angular arms reaching to her bodice to remove the final securements, and then gliding the entire dress down her narrow frame.

She exposed long, bronzed legs, bare to the upper thigh. Lajoya wore less underclothing than most women of the era, though that was only partially due to the tropical climate of her kingdom. A filmy black corset connected to tiny pantaloons, and she reached up to the top of the corset now.

Slowly, she pried the corset apart, the snap of each hook released a titillating symphony that drove Frederick literally to his knees. Her eyes glowed in the lamplight, drunk on the power she had over him. But not immune to the flame of that power, she breathed shallowly with every pop, till she thought she might, too, collapse when the final hook snapped open and her bulbous breasts spilled out into the heat of passion.

Perhaps she would have collapsed. But Frederick's arms instantly encircled her limp form and dragged her to the bed, tearing the remnants of her clothes from her body and beginning to feast on her naked form.

Breasts, he shoved into his mouth, voraciously. Her thin arms he stretched taut and bit at the tender flesh under them. She whined as he made his way to the underside of her breasts and gnashed the flesh there, simultaneously thrusting his hands back to the erect nipples waiting in the darkness and viciously scratched into fists over and over to Lajoya's tormented screams.

This. This was why she returned to him. This was why, though he was a weak, foolish man who had little political prowess and no subtlety, she still ached for him month after month, year after year. Why she gave herself to him, risking putting herself in an utterly defenseless circumstance. Because he, alone, had been able to reach these depths with her. He only had made her scream with primal pleasure and unbridled abandon.

Lajoya repaid Frederick with running her own polished nails down his chest, and he groaned in delight. With a desperate scream, she flung and forced herself atop him. She leaned down, undergarments dangling uselessly from her long legs, and found his crotch and tore his breeches to pieces, ripping with her mouth and fingers till the giant cock was revealed.

She began sucking on it, hungrily, frantically, stuffing as much of it into her wide mouth as she could. It wasn't enough. She raised his testicles, smooth and firm, and shoved those into her mouth too. Soon it was all slimy territory, every piece of his groin having been licked and sucked in turn, and she loomed over him, spreading her contoured labia apart and devoured his cock with her own receptacle.

She felt it go in her. Hard. So hard. Her toes wiggled in excitement and her hands made eager fists. Every time she bedded Freddy felt like it was the best time, and each time she proved her former self incorrect. She shoved and slammed herself against him, riding his long shaft like a hurricane. She was the storm and he was the island and she would not rest till the gusts of her passion had blown themselves out.

She made little moans, coupled with near hyperventilating as she alternated between shoving his shaft into her, smothering him with her ample breasts, or simply sliding her entire body against every part of his. His clothes were long gone now, in tatters on the floor. Her broken pieces of undergarment clung to her in ridiculous mockery, as if they wanted to hold on to still proclaim the magnificence of what they had concealed.

Lajoya leapt from the bed, landing on her nimble feet, and crouching for a moment, allowing the draft of the room to sweep between her breasts and slide along the trail down her belly and tickle her juicy clitoris. Then, she flung herself back onto the bed and shoved her opening into his face.

He responded with an eager tongue, lapping up her fluids like the sands do the sea. And she rewarded him with a continual wave of new liquid as soon as he had devoured the first. Over and over, he sucked and slurped her. Tremors shook her and she felt his tongue like the tendril of a sea monster, rising further into her than she'd have thought possible.

As he drew her further into his mouth, she stretched back her long legs and brought her two feet together over his erect cock. As she shoved herself against his mouth, she rocked back and forth with her feet smoothing over and agitating his member. She could feel him shudder below her, feel the rumble in his abdomen as the pressure built in him, and she screamed as his groan erupted from inside her and his cum shot across her back and they both collapsed.