A Free Man's Passion

(This is the second installment of "A Free Man's Passion" which was submitted a long time ago. I suggest you read or re-read it before reading this sequel.)

Having completed the transaction with the slaver, the mother turned to Freeman Jarod again, addressing him, he thought, with less of the cold authority she had displayed before their sexual encounter. Perhaps, Jarod thought, there was more to this woman than he had originally thought.

"Legion, we have chosen you to fulfill a great purpose in the House of Keera-See. You are not merely a slave to us." Jarod tried to read the expression of her face, seeing in it a mixture of pride, resoluteness and, yes, lust.

"I am now your mistress, Loran. You will be ruled in all things by me," she said firmly, then smiling more softly. "But you will find I am a benevolent mistress. I reward my slaves for their obedience…reward them with pleasure." Her green eyes flashed as she gazed into his own steel blue eyes.

"My daughter is Nola. She is heir to the House of Keera-See, and you are to be her concubine. You will share her bed and provide her with the seed for a new generation."

Jarod looked at the young girl, now once again clothed. She had unbraided her long blonde hair and was combing it out with her slender fingers. The moist sweat of their recent sexual encounter still glistened on her fair skin. Jarod felt his manhood begin to stir once more, and he looked away from her to still his growing lust.

"My manservant will come to you soon to escort you to our caravan," Loran said. "He will provide you with clothes and instruct you in your duties." With this Loran left the stall, not looking back. Nola, on the other hand, glanced over her shoulder at Jarod the entire time she exited the stall, at one point giddily bumping into the gatepost.

Within the hour, a tall, well-muscled man with a shaved head appeared at the stall, carrying a pair of calfskin leggings and burgundy waistcoat, which he handed to Jarod after the slaver unshackled him.

"I am Drossk," he said in a deep husky voice. "I am to instruct you in the duties of a concubine to the House of Keera-See. For now, it is enough that you come with me to join the caravan, for we ride out before the setting sun."

"Drossk…that's a Norlander name," Jarod said. "Are you, I mean were you, a New Michigander?" Jarod suspected that Drossk was in fact a former Freeman, seized in the slave trade as he had been, though likely decades before.

"That life is past," Drossk said. "Let the dead bury the dead." Obviously, Jarod thought, Drossk had lost the will to be free of these people. He, at any rate, would never submit to that fate.

After the better part of a day's ride, the caravan set up camp for the night, and Jarod was given a private tent and four female attendants to see to his needs. They stripped him, bathed him, shaved off his beard, and rubbed him down with oils and jasmine. At first, the cleansing seemed perfunctory; he was, after all, injured in his capture, and aside from a bucket of water thrown at him at the stockyard, he had received no medical or hygienic attention. Now, these women were putting salve on his wounds and tenderly removing the blood and grime of the past several days. But slowly, the attentions evolved into something more carnal, as one and then another of the woman began massaging his stomach and thighs with warm oil, eventually cradling and caressing his scrotum and shaft with oiled hands. Soon all four women were topless and sliding their breasts over his oily torso and rigid cock.

With skilled, silken hands and moist mouths, they drove him to the brink of climax, only to back off at precisely the necessary moment. Again and again they urged him toward orgasm and then brought him back from the point of no return.

Jarod was beside himself with frustration from the ordeal. One of the women, nuzzling at his neck, explained that this procedure was known as "priming the pump." It increased the potency and quantity of his fluids for his duties to the House.

"We are forbidden from taking you to orgasm," she cooed. "That is the state of ecstasy, Kulan, where flesh and spirit ascend to a higher plain. You are only to achieve Kulan with the Mistress or her daughter."

She presented her full breast to his mouth, and Jarod sucked at it lustfully. She glided first one and then the other nipple across his mouth and face, painting circles and arcs of saliva and massage oil on his cheeks and eyelids. Another of the women who had been massaging his feet drew his toes up under her skirt and worked Jarod's toes between her pussy lips. The other two women slid their lips and tongues up and down either side of his manhood, occasionally trading off the opportunity to envelop the knob and suck at it. Not only was Jarod aroused to near bursting, but the women were frenzied as well, and not being able to satisfy themselves with Jarod, they began to kiss and touch each other. To slake their lust, they soon were completely disrobed and plowing their tongues deeply into each other's cunts. All four licked and probed one another in a tangled knot of writhing flesh, building their efforts in intensity until first one and then all screamed out in ecstasy, then collapsed with panting breaths.

It began to dawn on Jarod that sex was not just a recreational activity for this power elite, nor was it merely used to procreate. Sexual ritual was evidently part and parcel of their religious beliefs. He was surprised by this, having generally thought of the See (landholders of the South) as godless practitioners of sexual depravity. Evidently, there was much he had yet to learn of this culture.

Drossk entered the tent carrying a large tray of food, which he placed on the fur-covered floor. The women dressed and slipped a robe over Jarod's muscular shoulders before retreating. Two more male servants entered as the women left, carrying a sling-backed chair of a sort which Jarod had never seen. Part hammock and part tripod, the chair was fashioned from wooden rods from which were slung soft cloth strips from its headrest to the armrests and seat.

"It is called the Throne," Drossk explained, seeing the curiosity in Jarod's face. "The Mistress will explain it's use to you." Drossk beckoned Jarod to the food, reclining on one side of the platter and gesturing for Jarod to join him on the other side of the tray. "Eat," Drossk said. "You will need your strength."

"Drossk, what are you to these people?" Jarod questioned, as he seated himself and began eating the fruits and cheeses on the tray. "You are a Norlander, or were, as I am. Don't you wish to be a free man again?"

Drossk looked into Jarod's questioning eyes. "I did at first. I was taken by the slavers when I had only seen 20 summers. I was taken to be concubine for Loran, and as you can see, she has ways of bewitching the senses of a man. I have neither the will or the strength to leave. And then there was the child."

Suddenly it dawned on Jarod who "the child" was: the girl, Nola, with her blonde hair and pale skin…

"She is your daughter…Nola?" Jarod asked, more as a statement than a question.

"She is Daughter of Loran, Mistress of the House of Keera-See," he said blankly, staring away from Jarod, at nothing in particular. "But, yes, of my seed."

"I take it Loran doesn't think of you as a father to her daughter," Jarod said. How sad, he thought, that this strapping man had been reduced to sexual surrogacy, a once mighty Viking.

"Loran has a husband, though they are not intimate. It is their way." Drossk's eyes burned as he continued. "He has his concubines…and the daughter for that matter."

Jarod remembered the girl's comments about the taste of his cum. "Salty-sweet like father's" she had said. He felt the same anger and disgust rise in him that he saw in Drossk.

"So," Jarod said "as he is not the seed of the girl, he considers it not incest to have her."

"He takes her only by her mouth or anus," Drossk said. "He will not take her beyond that. It is forbidden."

"Seems precious little is forbidden by these people," Jarod spat out in response. Jarod felt uneasy in front of Drossk, since he, Jarod, had been entangled in a ménage a trios with Nola, his daughter, and Loran, the woman he had been sharing a bed with for 20 years or so. But Drossk, if he held any ill will toward Jarod, did not show it.

In a quiet, conspiratorial tone, Drossk spoke with urgency.

"Take her away from here, Jarod. When you get the chance, leave this place. Save yourself and save her as well."

"I'm not sure I understand," Jared said, matching Drossk's hushed tone.

"It's too late for me," he said. "After the ritual that binds you to Nola, once she gives birth to an heir, my services will no longer be needed. I will be made a eunich and the Mistress will choose a younger man for her concubine…perhaps they will share you, or perhaps she will take another even younger."

His eyes pleaded with Jarod.

"She is my daughter, no matter what the See believe. I want her raised among our kind, free from this perversion. For me it is too late, but not for you…or for her."

Drossk exited quickly, and before long Loran herself arrived. It was well into the darkness of night, and she bore a lamp before her, which bathed the interior of the tent in a golden glow. After hanging the lamp from a chain attached to the ridge pole of the tent, she held out her hands to Jarod, beckoning him to the chair.

"This," she said gently, "is the throne. It is central to our religion, a symbol of fertility and authority among our people. You must learn its purpose."

Loran spread a fur across the chair and coaxed Jarod closer. She removed his robe, casting her gaze up and down his body, and flared her nostrils, inhaling his scent. She guided him down into the chair and then removed her own clothing. Jarod took in her form…the supple rise of her full breasts, the triangle of auburn hair trimmed neatly above her smooth vulva. She was a symphony of flesh, sculpted and firm yet retaining the softness of curves that Jarod found most alluring in women.

"We are not barbarians, Legion. I know what your people say about us, that we are immoral, that for us sex is only a token of power and a reward for those who do our bidding."

She smiled and shook her head, then kneeled before him, her hands on his knees, which were spread wide by the form of the chair. Jarod's cock was once more stirring, twitching and growing, reaching up toward his navel.

"It is not so. Sex is sacred to us. In the act of sex, we become one with the Goddess of Creation." Her hands slid slowly up his inner thigh as she moved closer, her breasts lightly brushing the inner sides of his knees. "That is why we teach our children how to give and receive sexual pleasure."

By now, her right hand was flat against the fully erect shaft, and she pressed against it as she methodically slid the palm up and down. Jarod looked up at the ceiling of the tent as Loran's hand curved around the raging erection, milking it from root to tip. Already, the dew of his semen beaded up at the cock's opening.

"Sex is not just for the aristocracy," she said as she weighed his tingling balls in her other hand. "If such pleasure was only for the powerful, would I assume this posture, subjugating myself to you this way?"

She leaned forward and kissed the middle of his cock, then with circled finger and thumb, drew the shaft towards her mouth, engulfing the head in the moist warmth of her red lips.

"Mmmm…" she moaned, taking him deeper and still deeper into her mouth, her tongue stroking the underside of the throbbing rod. Her tongue continued to snake around it, spiraling from the underside of the base to the topside of the shaft. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced, beyond what he imagined a woman's tongue could do. As she plunged the cock deeper into her throat, she sang out in a series of grunts and moans and trills. Uncontrollably, Jarod felt himself looking upward toward the roof of the tent, his torso flexing instinctively. At this, Loran drew his swollen member from her lips, licking it briefly before lifting her head out of his lap.

"Whew!" she said, and breathed out in a way that was half a sigh and half a giggle. "You are something. Most men wouldn't have lasted halfway through that without erupting into my mouth."

"Disappointed?" Jarod asked, teasingly.

"Oh no," she laughed. "Impressed. The last thing I want from you is premature ejaculation."

Loran got up off her knees and and moved around Jarod, still seated in the chair. She rubbed his chest and nibbled at his ears and neck as she whispered her next intentions.

"I want you inside me," she purred. "I want to feel you fill me so completely that I can't bear it, and then I want to feel your pulsing cock pumping your seed into me." She circled the chair, coming again the place between his legs. "And this chair is uniquely suited to fulfill that desire."

She placed her hands on his shoulders, then lifted first one and then the other leg over the sling-like armrests. Achingly, she settled herself down onto him, her glistening sex coming to rest over Jarod's aching erection. As she spoke, she rocked her pelvis on him, grinding against him in an excruciating pleasure for them both.

"The throne is almost like another partner in the act of love," she said as she increased the rocking, bathing his cock in her flowing juices. "It allows positions and motions that cannot be attained when merely horizontal."

Jarod, his hands free to explore her body, stroked her shoulders, arms and breasts. Her riding took on greater urgency, and she reached down between them, lifting herself for a moment to guide Jarod's massive shaft into her dripping cunt. She shuttered and cooed as her tight pussy yielded to his powerful manhood. Achingly she seated herself, until all of him was buried within her. Then she rose up abruptly, no more than an inch or two…pause…and back down. Soon she

began to vocalize, her lusty alto building in volume and pitch.

"Uh, uh, umm, uh, yes, Yes, deeper, yes, Deeper, ah, ah, Ah, fuck, oh, Oh, more, More, MORE, UUUUUHHHH!" she intoned, with Jarod's thrusts now matching her own. His own cries of lust matched hers, as they rocked and rolled in the magical chair. Jarod could feel her shutter with orgiastic delight as she inhaled deeply and abruptly, and clenched her inner self around his manhood. "Oh, oh my, oh Goddess divine…..ah, aHAH, ah, uh, mmm."

Jarod was amazed that he had not climaxed with her. It was without a doubt the most powerful fuck he had ever experienced, and yet, he had still not reached orgasm. Loran shifted about on his still rigid pole, teasing the last trills of pleasure from their actions.

"Oh Legion, you are - I'm without words." Loran said panting, catching her breath. "But the secrets of the throne are many. Here, this is how you will take Nola, in her ceremony."

Loran rose up and spun around swiftly atop Jarod. Again she spread her legs over the sling arms of the chair, reclining against Jarod, her rounded ass cheeks slipping to either side of the still hardened cock. Her hands guided his length past her pink anus and upward to her once more eager pussy.

"I know Nola's ass was a pleasure you could not endure, but in her coming of age ceremony, you will take her like this," she said in a husky voice roughened by the heat of their earlier sexual exertions.

She stirred his glans around the lips of her opening, then glided it in and out, head only, in a teasingly tight and quick motion. Soon, when both of them could no longer deny the need, she slid down his torso and impaled herself deeply on him, taking the full measure of him into her wet cunt, flushed pink with the need to be fucked once more.

It was beyond his imagination, the pleasure that coursed through him as he thrust upward, harder and harder. Thoughts of freedom, of his family, of anything, fled his mind in the overwhelming rush of desire that filled him. They rolled and glided in the chair, like rowers on a single-minded course. He felt his manhood throb with the impending eruption of his orgasm. She urged him onward, taking him deeper and harder into her. His hands sought out her breasts and he clutched them forcefully, but the pain seemed to do nothing more than drive her passion to greater ecstasy. He reached down with one hand and slid a stiff middle finger between her labia, stroking her clitoris in rhythm with the thrusts of his proud cock.

She screamed uncontrollably, crying out as she convulsed in wave after wave of orgasm. Again, the pulsing of her cunt gripped his steely manhood, and he felt a lightning shot of unnamable pleasure track from his balls, up his cock, and through his brain. His throbbing cock catapulted streams of cum deep into her hungry center. They both shuddered and shook like beings possessed, as they spent their last energies in the climax and eased back once more into the comfort of the chair.

"Mmmmmmmm," Loran purred, sleepy with the drug of their lovemaking. Slowly, achingly, she lifted herself off Jarod and retrieved her clothes from the floor.

Her hair was tossled in dark red ringlets, cascading past her freckled shoulders and brushing at the edges of her reddened nipples. Her pubic hair was shiny, plastered with the slick juices of sex. She drew her hand down and slowly inserted two fingers between her labia, extracting the honey of their mixed wetness. She raised the fingers to her lips and took them into her mouth, sucking and licking them clean. Her obvious pleasure in all the sensations of sex was intoxicating to Jarod. He couldn't help thinking she was perhaps the most beautiful woman he had ever known. Even the vision of his dark-skinned Andosian wife, now dead, seemed dimmed. Was he forgetting how she looked? How could that be? What was this power Loran had over him? How was he ever going to overcome his desire to share this woman's bed, and that of her daughter?

"Legion, you are Shaka-Ree, a vessel of manhood, pleasing to the Goddess. Nola and I are very fortunate to have found you."

She turned to leave.

"Jarod," he said softly, but loud enough to be heard.

"Pardon?" she said, turning back to him.

"My name. It is Jarod, not Legion."

She returned to him and kissed him passionately on the mouth. They nibbled at each other's lips and explored each other's mouths with searching tongues. She opened her blouse once more and pressed her full, rounded breasts against his muscled chest. Still kissing him, she searched out and enclosed his now sagging cock in her hand and massaged it. He stiffened once more, and for a moment, Loran contemplated spending the night there, with Jarod, pleasuring one another with hands and mouths and cock and cunt. She had yet to be taken by him anally, and she did so love that. There were so many pleasures and positions yet unexplored.

But he was her daughter's concubine, and Jarod would need his strength for the ceremony, where all would behold the glory of the Shaka-Ree and Goddess as they achieved Kulan, Jarod and Nola assuming the throne and performing the rite of passage for young women of the See.

Nola was in for one hell of a deflowering, she thought, laughing to herself.