CHAPTER 6 -- DIRGE OF DESTINY
I am called Dirge of Destiny. I do not know why, nor do I have any control of my life. The people who coming looking for me see me as some haughty queen to kneel before and worship, yet I am no more than a slave in this place...a whore kept on display for the amusement of others.
Sometimes, I dream. I do not like my dreams. They fill me with sadness because they reflect a more pressing reality than the one I see, or those who come to see me see...In my dreams, I am no more than a pampered and jeweled whore in a glass room being watched by others as men come to me.
No one ever speaks in these dreams; no one came for the words. They came to see, to touch, to taste, to feel. They do not care what I say. They no longer have to be patient or polite to garner my favors, nothing.
They know what I am; they see the real me and not this illusion that has been set about me. I am a whore. It was not always so, but it is the truth of it now. I am not even allowed to choose my own lovers.
This is how I see myself. Strange enough for me to believe, but others do not see me as I see myself. No, they really do see a haughty queen.
They see a cold, emotionless icon that sits before them in jewels and lace and gauzy fabric looking sexy and alluring to all who see her.
I am not the person they see. She is not real.
"Dirge, you look bored. Shall I send you some toys to play with until my business is concluded?" The laughter would not come. The insane sound of it held at bay through centuries upon centuries of practice.
"Oh, no...I insist. It will take me a while to finish this trade agreement. I would hate for either of you to be bored. Dirge, you will take care of him, won't you?" Like she had a choice, she wondered emotionlessly.
"I think you have had enough wine, my sweet wife. Perhaps you should try a slice of the fruit," he suggested. Oh, yes, the fruit...
She plucked up a slice from a bowl and let it trail lazily along her skin. The very juice of it tingled as the toxins in it set to work on her before she had even lifted it to her lips. "We mustn't forget the fruit," she whispered in amused sarcasm.
"Pardon me?" The short little man was balding and he had a little bit of a pot belly, like a bug-eyed pig. He was wearing what Everest made all of his guests wear, even the ugly ones. He sat down on her enormous bed-styled couch hesitantly. "The fruit, did you say?"
"No," Everest said softy. "You don't want those. I promise you." His laughing voice receded across the room, where Everest sat down with the merchant's hagglers determined to do business.
The silly merchant got curious, clever little pig, that. He took up a slice of the fruit and his eyes widened in sudden understanding. Oh, the piggy was quick!
Usually, it took time to understand that they had been left alone with a drugged woman scantily clad. The pig was clever, and therefore dangerous to Everest.
He drew the fruit over her skin touching stomach through the parted folds of the gauzy outfit. It traveled up lazily circling a breast before being brought up for my tasting. I hated that fruit, but I loved the taste of it.
While it was dissolving in my mouth, his hand had already traveled the same path to close around the hardened nipple. He leaned down to take it into his mouth unwittingly ingesting the hazardous drugs into his own flesh. I was so sore I could feel it through the pain-dulling haze.
Everest had outdone himself today. Business was heavy passing swiftly through the hall far faster than usual. What was he planning that was so important? Usually, she did not care, but even numb...she ached in her very womb.
Who was this perfect woman who gazed so docilely out of my eyes? Who allowed this little pig to carefully draw his hand down to that tight nest of curls to press food greasy fingers into slickened folds?
"You are bleeding," he whispered very softly into my ear. I did not respond. That would explain the ache. Maybe this was the end of me, I wondered. Could I die if the little pig got rough and caused the light bleed to really flow? "Do you care?"
"I care about absolutely nothing," the woman using my lips whispered. It must have looked like a sexy flirt to those watching further away. I laughed and there was the edge of madness I have heard for too long to wonder at it.
He heard. This little pig was very clever. He understood. No else did. Just the clever, wide-eyed pig and the royal whore, she thought.
Piggy did not wait for his invitation, because there certainly wouldn't have been one. It had already been given when Everest told him to wait and entertain himself, besides. His hand simply pulled the ties of his silky, opaque pajamas.
Piggy pushed them down as he settled between those pale gold, uninviting yet unresistingly, open thighs with pleasure. My eyes fluttered closed; I did not want to see his ugly, obese shape.
He parted the robe further and lifted one of this queen bitch's legs as he pressed along my body. Piggy positioned himself to rub a half limp member in the wetness the drug caused.
I left the leg up when he let go. I did not care. This is what Everest wanted him to do. The haughty queen couldn't resist looking down her oh-so-bare flesh to stare at him. She knew that stare unnerved people, even ones who knew she would never bother to protest.
He rubbed the suddenly stiff head over her waiting lips enthusiastically and was thoroughly soaked in seconds. Piggy must get off on her high and mighty gaze. He continued to chafe against her, over and over.
She got the idea Piggy was not exactly petite. No, the head of his dick felt as fat as his engorged waistline as it pushed in just a little ,speeding over those wet lips, enjoying the moment...so-to-speak.
Only went an unwilling sound had parted my unforgiving silent lips did he seem content to continue onward. By now, my body was not just wet; it was pulsing with impatience, too. He pushed at the hole he had been racing along against and it opened to allow him entrance. As soon as he pushed in, he hung. The flesh stopped opening and tugged inward denying its ability to allow it.
He used his hand to work his member in tiny little circles as his hips gave only millimeters of movement back and forth, working himself deeper despite my body's endeavor to keep him away. It began to burn and sting, but I called out in something other than pain as he continued to drive his dick down efficiently, yet uncompromisingly.
