Daemon And Sunny Ch 03

…The White Dragon arched over her mate as he crossed under her belly. She came down beside him and eyed him as they continued their Eternal curve. Not yet, but soon, she would arch under him as he arched over her, submitting to him again, then again he to her. It was their nature. It was their touching, their making, their doing and undoing, their loosing and binding and circling to whole.

He was magnificent…and he thought she was, too…

She woke as she had awakened the last time. With her body being invaded by an insistent, hard erection. This time, she was lying half on her stomach, half on her side, and a knee had inserted itself between her thighs from behind. Sunny sucked in a breath as Daemon eased into her partway, slipped out just a little, and pushed in deeper, more insistent the second time. And a third, seating himself as fully as their respective positions could get. He stayed there a moment, buried inside her, then kissed her shoulder, brought her upper leg back over his own, and stroked into her. Over and over, as the early light of dawn slid into the first golden rays spearing through the forcefielded window. One of his hands had wormed its way under her ribs and around to palm her breast, and the other slid down her waist and soft belly, to her auburn curls and their sheltered pearl.

Flicking it softly, repeatedly, he made her climax, squeezing around him with a ragged groan. Pulling out, ignoring her weak, disappointed protest, he spread her out on her back, slipped between her thighs, and thrust into her again. Rode her arousal-slick body until he poured into her, matching her shudder for shudder. Daemon relaxed over her, holding her replete flesh to the bed under him until both of their hearts slowed. He lifted his head and kissed her thoroughly, then pulled out of her and got off the bed. Heading for the bathroom, he paused and looked back at her. She looked incredible, limp and sated and sheened with sweat. With his sweat.

Crossing back to the bed, he grabbed her hand and hauled her to her feet, ignoring her protest. "Come. Breakfast will be arriving shortly, and I will have you cleaned before I leave."

That woke her out of her half-sleepy, half-sated stupor. "Leave? You're going to keep me in here all day?"

"No. I'm going to attend to all the things I cancelled yesterday, and you," he said pushing her into the large showering stall ahead of him, "are going to the

saeda

."

"

Saeda

?" Sunny asked, finding the word vaguely familiar.

"Your new home," Daemon informed her as he turned on the sprayers and reached for the soap. "Where all royal concubines stay."

More than a hundred concubines

, Sunny recalled suddenly, remembering that Lord Crellan had used it when he had bought her. The ambassador had informed her that there were more than a hundred other concubines attatched to this young king who was scrubbing her skin and his own. She simmered her emotions, the jealous hurt at the thought of him treating her as just one among a hundred-plus women. Didn't want to respond when, no sooner than they were clean, he pinned her against the tiled wall and took her in the middle of the warm, pounding spray, tasting her warm, clean, wet flesh, driving into her with undiminished enthusiasm for their coupling, firing her responses to him with deep moans under the pattering spray. She did, but she didn't want to. Sunny even found herself letting him dry her off, then wrap her in one of his robes and bring her out into the sitting room.

Just in time for breakfast to be served. She ate it hungrily, but even as she did, Sunny plotted her next escape attempt. The Grand Chamberlain arrived as they were finishing, both clad in satin robes and started marking out King Daemon's day, barely even giving her a second look. And then the wall off to the side chimed, shimmered and vanished along one stretch, revealing a door that opened at an acknowledgement from Daemon. The slightly plump man from the other night, Armon, entered with a smile and a bow.

"I've come for the Consort, as requested," he said, and the Grand Chamberlain's eyebrows shot up, confusing the Consort in question. Sunny looked between the three men, watched Daemon rise and cross to her side of the sitting room table, and rose as he urged her up with a hand.

He kissed her, one hand along her jaw, the other wrapping low around her waist, bringing her body very intimately against his. Telling the lower end of her belly just how much he still wanted her, brushing her protests aside with the passion in his grip and in his kiss. When he released her, it was with a gentle push towards the man Armon.

"Go. Enjoy your new home…and

remember your promise

." He held her gaze steadily, reminding her of her promise to stay.

Sunny lifted her chin slightly, turned, and strode for the door the servant had come through. He quickly escorted her out, and the door sealed shut behind them. They were in a short, round hallway, the length of a large room, with a pair of guards at the far end, on the near side of the round, barred gate separating them from the chamber that lay beyond.

"You'll like it, here in the

saeda

," the man Armon chatted amicably. "Of course, it'll be a bit lonely, now, but there'll still be plenty of people in here to keep you entertained. His Majesty has given orders that almost anything you wish for will be granted to you—a most generous arrangement."

Really?

Sunny thought. "I want my freedom."

Armon gave her an apologetic smile as the guards opened the gate and let them through. They clanged shut behind him and Sunny, putting a finality on his words. "I'm afraid that's the one thing I can't give you."

Sunny bit back her urge to flee and stared around at her. The chamber they had stepped into had to be the main hall; it was too large to be anything else. It was huge, and high-ceilinged. Tall windows let in air and sunlight far overhead, above the third floor, with chandeliers hanging down partway, carved balconies ringing the chamber with door after door spaced with window after window, all overlooking a huge, marble-patterned floor covered here and there with costly woven rugs, planters with live flowers, bushes, even living trees rising up into the air. Fountains trickled in the four corners of the room, adding a soft, gentle, liquid background noise, and as they crossed to a set of steps and went down to the next level, Sunny realized there was a huge pool, with smaller, hotter soaking pools, and a waterfall that one could shower under, sculpted to look both natural and artistically planned.

Armon led her to a bridge arching over the swimming pool and over it, towards a cluster of men and women all clad in similar uniforms of shoulder-fastened tunics that fell to mid-thigh, all in black and white, standing out against the colorfully painted walls and flowering greenery around them. "I am the Chief Eunuch of the

saeda

, and these are the

saeda's

servants; they will be serving you for as long as you stay here in the concubinal quarters. Chefs, waiters, laundrers, masseusses, tailors, instructors in the arts of a concubine, of dancing and singing and lovemaking, all are here to serve you."

"And the other hundred-plus concubines," she muttered under her breath. Armon heard her and blinked.

"Oh, my, no! His Majesty ordered the others dismissed, even the other three ‘gifts' presented to him at his coronation. You're the only concubine in the whole of the

saeda

!"

Sunny blinked herself at that.

The only one? He dismissed all the others? But…why?

Armon continued. "Even when he was still the prince, King Daemon was considered…particular in his tastes in sexual partners. The Grand Chamberlain might have been surprised, but I wasn't, when he ordered their dismissal. He's been unusually celibate for roughly a year, until now. I was far more surprised that he insisted on keeping you. I'm actually rather relieved, though; I was beginning to wonder about his libido. Astorran men are known for their vigor, you know."

Sunny caught his lascivious smile as they headed for a set of stairs leading up towards the gilded entrance to what looked like the grandest living quarters of all in the

saeda

. It clashed with his title. "You're a

real

eunuch…aren't you?"

"Bright Astor, no! The title is left over from Astorra's pre-stellar days," Armon informed her. "It was discovered that even after…you know…a man could still be interested in women. So all eunuchs have since been selected based on our sexual preferences. I

much

prefer men to women, as do all of the other men you'll see working in the

saeda

and guarding it. Which makes us the

only

choice for safeguarding the king's women," he informed her, and nodded at the tunic-clad men who had hurried up ahead of them to throw open the carved doors. "Here we are: the Consort's Hall. These quarters will be yours for as long as you're His Majesty's Consort."

"Consort? What does that mean?"

The eunuch who wasn't a eunuch smiled broadly at her. "It means you're the most favored of concubines! You have the largest quarters, have the highest paycheck—doubled, actually, at His Majesty's order—and have the right to enter the king's private quarters at any time, though of course you must make a request to see him in any other place, at any other time, which only the queen can do freely."

A horrible thought crossed her mind. "Is he married?"

"King Daemon? No! In fact, he was supposed to attend a ‘marriage mart' last night," Armon chatted as she took in the silk drapings of the air conditioned front room. At her puzzled look, he blushed slightly. "Forgive me—that's what I think of them, at any rate. Formal Familial Ball," he explained with a graceful gesture of his hands. "All of the noble and royal families around the Astorran Empire bring out their families for an introduction.

Especially

their virgin daughters. The Astorran king isn't required to be married by his coronation, like some cultures require their royalty, but what with the accidental deaths of his father and older brother, King Daemon is under pressure to provide heirs so there won't be any cousinly or dynastic contentions for the throne, should something happen to him."

"I see…" Sunny ran over his comments in her mind, anything to distract her from the sharp pain inside at the thought of him marrying some royal or noble-blooded woman. She frowned, halfway up the stairs to the next floor of the lavish suite. "Did you say…

paycheck

?"

"Well, yes, of course! All concubines are paid; it's considered

the

choice job for a lovely young virgin. And to be paid

double

the salary of a Consort—why, that makes you the highest paid employee of Astorra!" Armon exclaimed, hurrying after her. His sashed tunic and trousers looked like they should have been a little warm for him, but he wasn't even sweating.

"Great. I'm a whore."

"Certainly not!" He mounted to a step above her and glared down at her. "Concubinage is a very honorable and exclusive position for a young woman to hold! Only virgins may become concubines; when they want another line of work, they simply resign from their job. And it is a

job

, with duties, performance expectations, health benefits, and retirement compensation pro-rated to how long a woman's been a concubine. Some of the women who've retired yesterday have gone home quite wealthy, and that's not including the trinkets bought for them by the last two monarchs! And some of them didn't want to be dismissed. I think those ones were hoping the new king would choose them for his Mistress, maybe even angle for Consort. And some of them have opted to become virgins yet again and seek concubinage posts elsewhere."

Sunny eyed him, puzzled. "How do you become a virgin

again

? I thought, once it's gone…"

"It requires a special trip through the

saeda's

medbox—it's tradition that all the concubines from the last king become the concubines of the new king, because their employment is considered to be a part of Astorran civil service, and the new king is responsible for their employment. So they go through the Deducian medbox here in the

saeda

, and the machinery restores their virginity, their untried dimensions and hymen, that sort of thing." He fluttered his hands in explanation, then led the way up the rest of the curved stairs. "Up here are your private quarters; they're cleaned once a day, unless you're entertaining the king here, in which case you'll of course be left alone. Your bedroom, bathroom, dressing chamber, and private study."

"Private study? What does a concubine need with a private study? I thought that was the bedroom," Sunny quipped sarcastically as she inspected each room. Her sardonic tone was partly a mask to hide her surprise at the genuine and lavish quality of the chambers—nothing but the finest furnishings. And the most erotic carvings, paintings, tapestries and statuary in the bedroom and bathroom, which like the king's quarters had a large showering stall and an even larger, deep-basined bathtub. The dressing room lacked clothing, and the study was a sensible, comfortable contrast compared to the sensuality in the other rooms.

"Oh, no—concubines are encouraged to pursue other interests as well; there's nothing worse than a bedpartner with no brains at all," Armon declared on a shudder. "Had one of those myself—all brawn, no brains, dreadful bore outside of the bedroom, though he was good between the sheets. As Consort, you'll be expected to accompany His Majesty on most of his outings—at least until there's a queen—and of course whenever he travels to any of the other Astorran worlds. That means you'll have to know how to make small talk and at the least appear to understand the conversations at the parties you'll be attending."

"I'm a Historian of the Imperium," Sunny informed him. "I probably know as much about the ins and outs of politics and formal gatherings as you do."

"More, even," the Chief Eunuch admitted freely with a dismissive waive of his hand. "I'm just in charge of everything here; you'll have instructors to teach you all the niceties of Astorran life and Court small-talk…but first things must come first," he added, circling around her, a finger curled around his neatly bearded chin as he studied her satin-robed figure. "My instructions are to see you're kept available at all times, and this simply won't do!"

Crossing to a golden chain, he pulled on it. A trio of bells rang melodically, with pure notes. Sunny lifted her brows. "What's that for?"

"The gold chain summons the servants. And since you're the only concubine in the

saeda

, service for you should be very swift. If it is not, inform me, and I will correct the matter…ah, there you are!" he exclaimed, his trademark smile rarely ever far from his rosy features. He addressed the black-dressed, white-aproned woman who appeared in the doorway of the study. "Masrie, summon the bathers, the masseusse, and the tailors at once! We'll meet you downstairs at the milkbaths."

"As you wish, sir." She bowed to him, to Sunny, and departed as quickly as she'd arrived.

"I just bathed! And I can bathe myself," Sunny added pointedly.

"I know you just did, but there's a difference between getting clean and bathing, and your skin is just crying out for the nutrients of a milkbath! Hurry along!" He shooed her ahead of him, down the stairs and back out into the open. "Where are you from, anyway? Ruyikan?"

"Craida."

"Never heard of it. Does your culture have any…

hesitancies

about nudity, or sex?" he asked, managing to sound both blunt and delicate at the same time, bemusing her.

"Craidans believe the naked body is holy, something to be revered, and as for sex…we believe that sex is an integral part of our religious life as adults."

"Yet you were a virgin?"

"I never bothered to go through the preparation rituals—I was too busy studying for my history degree, and working jobs to pay my way through school," she informed him as he led her around the side of the Consort's Hall and through an archway, into a bathing chamber. Male servants, fellow ‘eunuchs' like Armon, were carrying in steaming, flower-decorated urns from what looked like a servants' entrance and pouring the heated, transluscent white liquid into the rectangular basin sunk in the floor.

"If you wish to continue your studies, I'll do my best to supply you with whatever you need," the Chief Eunuch assured her, then gave her a slight bow. "Now, with all the respect due your world's beliefs, Consort, I request that you remove your robe and step into the milkbath, while it's still warm and the enzymes in the milk are still fresh."

"I'm not used to being called by a title," she informed him, unknotting her sash and slipping out of the robe. One of the servants behind her took it as it slid down her arms, and another one quickly circled her, scanning her physical dimensions with a tailor's scanr.

"What shall I call you, then?" Armon asked her pleasantly, helping her down the steps into the milkbath. The urns were poured over her shoulders, even over her head, though with enough skill that not more than a single drop trickled down her forehead.

"My name is Sunny."

"Your parents must have guessed you would have a sunshine disposition when you were born."

"It's short for Sundrea. Sundrea Dannonee."

"That's a beautiful name, Sunny," he praised her. "Now, you just rest and relax in the milk for ten or twenty minutes, and then we'll bathe off the excess milk and see if His Majesty is going to be occupied long enough for an algae-and-clay mudbath, or if we should proceed straight to the light oiling and the massage before seeing what the tailors have come up with for your first garments."

They were scandalous. Not by Craidan religious festival standards, but definitely by the Imperium standard recommended for female travellers, which was based on the conservative side of the cultural apparel median. Dark reddish, translucent harem trousers for her legs, slit not only along the outer seam, but along the inseam all the way up to the crotch…which wasn't there. The yoke was a shade of burgundy satin to match her rich auburn hair, and the chiffon panels, gathered both at the lower edge of the pointed yoke and down at her ankles, were a lighter, matching shade. Bells had been stitched along the hemmed outer seams, tinkling musically as she was assisted into the pants. As for her breasts, the triangular scraps were slit into three sections, two in satin and one of chiffon between the two, sheer enough to display the dusky shade of her nipples and the curve of her spiralling freckles right through the fabric. Tiny bells had been stitched to the outer edges of the slits, along the satin side.

Sunny took one look at herself in the angle-walled, mirrored alcove in her dressing room, and put her foot down. "Absolutely not! I am

not

going out in public like this."

"It isn't for wearing in public, Consort," the seamstress checking the lie of her gathered ankle cuff stated calmly. "It's for His Majesty's private pleasure."

"Is this what all concubines wear in private?" Sunny asked, dismayed. The chiffon panels were attatched via snaps, and could be removed to bare her nipples fully; with her full breasts, Sunny was afraid to inhale too deeply, in case she popped a snap. With the inseam nonexistent, the soft skin of her upper, inner thighs would threaten to chafe, too, if she had to walk around in this so-called outfit all the time.

"My orders are to see you're kept ready for His Majesty at all times," Armon reminded her lightly. "That one will do; let's see the next outfit."

The next one seemed innocuous enough—even rather like the short togas given to the other slave girls back at that slave house, except it was made of a fine white silk instead of a plain white synthcotton. Except it was tied at each side of her waist rather than wrapping around her body, baring her hips every time the thigh-high skirt swayed, tied over one shoulder, leaving the other one bare, and was apparently meant to be worn without any underpants at all.