The Woman King Ch 02

[Author's note: this is a direct continuation of "The Woman-king Ch.1" - readers looking for the beginning of Cicale and Alayne's story are encouraged to read that chapter first. Comments are welcome. Enjoy.]

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Alayne had never been with another woman, although such practices were not unknown to her; one didn't grow up in a barracks with other women and not be privy to these things. But Alayne had never considered the exploits herself; had never known that what she felt for Cicale was anything more than friendship. The heated need flowing through her body attested otherwise.

Cicale's things had been moved from the women's barracks to the King's chamber that afternoon, a room which, upon entering, Alayne realized was as sensual a place as Cicale deserved. Sumptuous fabrics and luxurious furs were everywhere: the walls, the curtains, the floors, the bed. A merry blaze burned in the large stone fireplace, warming the chamber and flooding it with soft, flickering light.

Alayne was completely unaware of the guard's departure; time seemed to crawl and expand all at once as she stood motionless in the centre of the room, waiting for the woman-king to come and claim her.

Cicale arrived in a flurry of robes and flashing red curls, dismissing the servants who would enter with her and seeing that the heavy oak door was locked behind her. The king's gaze remained intently possessive as she strode across the room to Alayne.

Alayne moaned aloud as Cicale pulled her into her arms and lowered her lips to meet Alayne's own. The kiss in the hall had been slowly deliberate and sensual, with an undercurrent of possession that had melted Alayne's knees and made her want to scream with wanting more. This kiss was wild, aggressive; Cicale's tongue thrusting, searching, taking the very air from Alayne's lungs.

Cicale wrapped her arms around the smaller woman, pulling Alayne roughly against the solid plane of her chest, moulding Alayne's softness against her body, watching through the kiss as the younger woman's eyes flew open in disbelief.

Pressing the rigid length of her cock against Alayne's abdomen, Cicale chuckled.

Her laugh was deep and warm, and standing as they closely as they were, Alayne could feel the vibration of it through her body.

Their lips parting, Cicale and Alayne watched each other wordlessly, their quickened breaths mingling; Cicale's green eyes were filled with lustful mischief, Alayne's blue ones with puzzled astonishment.

"How?" Alayne asked, shaking her head in wonder; her chestnut waves tickling Cicale's hands as they remained possessively about the younger woman's waist.

"Would you like me to show you?" Cicale asked, watching Alayne's face for any glimmer of indecision. Finding only curiosity tinged with desire, Cicale stepped back from the brunette and parted her opulent robes.

Beneath she wore the same form fitting style of breeches all the warriors, male and female, were accustomed to, although these were a pair made of the finest leather. Alayne recognized the shape beneath the snug fabric as one she had seen before on their male counterparts. The sight of a generous bulge on Cicale was both surprising and wonderfully erotic.

"Being king," Cicale murmured, stepping forward again and reaching for the younger woman's rounded hips, "has its advantages."

She pressed herself against Alayne, pleased by the tremor of desire the other woman could not contain.

"One of which is that I must prove my manhood." The look in the woman-king's eyes was both hot and amused. "Since the female kings before me also lacked the necessary equipment they fashioned this," she thrust aggressively against Alayne, please by the woman's sharp intake of breath. "it is as much a part of me now as the crown."

Alayne could feel the king's deft hands unlacing the back of her gown. Cicale eased the fabric from Alayne's arms, lowering it to free her breasts for the older woman to appreciate.

Cicale traced the soft underside of each breast, the gentle curve along the periphery, before running her fingers lightly over Alayne's already hardened nipples. The king's touch was soft yet possessive; moaning, Alayne allowed her head to fall back, exposing the delicate lines of her collarbone. Her breasts tightened and lifted; Alayne whimpered, needing more than a light tease.

Cicale took, her hands weighing the soft heaviness of Alayne's breasts, the rough texture of her aureole, the hard apex of her nipples. They were beautiful breasts, perfectly shaped and wonderfully soft. Cicale bent and took the tip of one in her mouth.

Alayne clung to her, touching the king for the first time since the older woman had entered the room. Clasping Cicale's head to her breasts, Alayne marvelled at the softness of the king's bright auburn curls.

The younger woman's breath came in measured, gasping pants; she hardly dared to move as Cicale laved one nipple with the roughness of her tongue before turning her attention to the other. Alayne could feel the wet heat between her legs, the pleasurable tension deep within her. Cicale's mouth was hot, her tongue skilful; Alayne had never dreamt that mere breastplay could bring her to her peak, but much more of Cicale's attention and that very thing would happen.

Sensing the younger woman's weakening hold on her ability to remain upright, Cicale swept Alayne up in her strong arms and deposited the breathless woman gently on her bed, taking the time to slowly divest Alayne of her dress and soft leather boots. Earlier it had pleased Cicale to see Alayne wearing her finest dress for her victory banquet and coronation, now it pleased her even more to see the naked body spread before her.

Alayne was flawless; her arms and legs had a sleekness Cicale attributed to the younger woman's position as a master archer in her army; Alayne's hips and breasts curved provocatively into a narrow waist; her belly a gently sloped plane above the nest of brunette curls which guarded her core. Cicale could hardly believe the beautiful, shapely woman was lying silently, freely before her.

Alayne in turn was in awe of the powerful woman-king standing over her. Even fully clothed, Cicale was a dazzling specimen of grace and strength combined. Alayne had always liked to watch Cicale in battle; the tall woman was as formidable with a broadsword as any of the men she commanded; she fought with the same strength and with more passion than any man; with copper curls flying and a dangerous glint in her emerald eyes, Cicale on the battlefield was a magnificent sight. Now, with those green eyes darkened by lust, Cicale was even more splendid; unspoken anticipation left both women trembling.

Alayne held her breath as Cicale lowered herself down onto the bed. The king dropped her head to suckle again at Alayne's breasts, eliciting a pent up cry from the smaller woman. Cicale smiled against the pale softness as she ran her tongue from the tip of one rose-coloured nipple to the other. Alayne's response pleased her greatly. Cicale pressed the hardness beneath her trousers against Alayne's supple hip, wanting to communicate her own desire to the writhing woman beside her.

Cicale's touch was light yet sure as she traced her fingers down the length of Alayne's torso, stopping at the nest of dark curls; Alayne's sharp intake of breath was all the permission the woman-king needed; Alayne's thighs parted, allowing the other woman to dip her fingers into the damp heat between them.

"Cicale." Alayne hissed, as the other woman touched the sensitive button of her clitoris. "Oh sweet Goddess."

Cicale chuckled again, marvelling at the generous wetness she had found; the heat beneath her fingers was incredible; without thinking she plunged three fingers deep within Alayne.

The younger woman's hips rose off the bed, the ragged moan torn from her throat swallowed by Cicale's kiss. Fiercely, deeply, she claimed Alayne's mouth and core with tongue and fingers, wanting more than anything to bring the dark-haired beauty to completion.

The king teased Alayne's nub with a strong thumb, maintaining the aggressive drive of her fingers; each thrust drawing another cry from the young woman, who tossed so violently Cicale couldn't sustain the kiss; instead she bent again to Alayne's breasts, sucking sharply on a hardened nipple.

It was only moments before Alayne came with a wail, the slick muscles of her inner walls contracting around Cicale's fingers, her thighs closing vice-like around the king's hand.

While the younger woman slowly regained her senses, Cicale held her slick fingers up for inspection. "I never knew anyone could be so wet," the king confessed huskily, watching Alayne's sky blue eyes lose a little of their dazed look as she returned to the present.

"Neither did I," Alayne whispered, reaching up to entwine her fingers with Cicale's own. "It's all for you."

Cicale pushed their clasped hands above Alayne's head, leaning in for another kiss, this one more heated and possessive than any before it.

Through the fog created by her recent orgasm and by Cicale's kiss, Alayne could feel the solid length of the king's cock against her hip; boldly, she reached across and grasped it through the soft leather breeches Cicale still wore.

"Can I see it?" Alayne asked breathlessly as Cicale kissed a trail to the younger woman's slender neck before biting her shoulder gently.

"As you wish," Cicale whispered huskily, rising from the bed with her characteristic fluid grace to remove the heavy silk robes and tight breeches.

"Shouldn't I be the one to say that?" Alayne teased, glorying in the view as Cicale's body was revealed: broad muscular shoulders and strong arms gave way to a chest bound tightly with linen strips; Cicale smiled softly at Alayne's small sound of distress at the sight of her bound breasts. Beneath the breeches Cicale wore a generously sized cock, carved realistically from gleaming dark wood and held in place by a series of leather straps.

Cicale's eyes flashed with desire and a possessiveness which made Alayne shiver. The younger woman rose to her knees as Cicale approached the bed; the two women faced each other, eye to eye.

Alayne ran her hands across the expanse of Cicale's chest, feeling the intense heat given off by the older woman, even through the binding linen. "Can you take this off?" She asked, feeling for the taut nipples beneath the fabric. "Does it hurt?"

Cicale shook her head wordlessly; shocked by the pleasant thrill Alayne's fingers gave her through the binding.

"No, it doesn't hurt," the woman-king murmured breathlessly, "and I could remove them, but I would rather not right now."

Alayne liked the commanding heat in Cicale's gaze; she could feel the slick dampness between her thighs respond. Wanting to return a little of the pleasure her king had already given her, Alayne reached again for the cock standing proudly between them; she was no stranger to the real thing, but Cicale's manhood was more magnificent than Alayne could have imagined.

Carved of a dark, exotic wood, it spanned the length of Alayne's long, slender archer's hand with more to spare. The wood was softly polished and the surface was silken to the brunette's exploring touch. The artist had added a realistically rounded head and delicately carved veins. It felt solid, heavy; its girth pleasantly generous without being monstrous. Alayne hardly recognized the groan issued from her lungs as her own. Cicale's breathing was shallow and quick, her gaze unfocused.

"Does this please you?" Alayne whispered, leaning closer to the king while maintaining a firm grip on the wooden appendage.

"Sweet Goddess, yes." Cicale gasped, watching the younger woman's intent fascination through heavily lidded eyes.

"How?"

Cicale's response was half laugh, half gasp. "Lower."

Alayne ran one slim hand lower, between Cicale's firm thighs. She had never touched another woman so intimately before and the slick heat, familiar yet somehow unlike her own, surprised her. The base of the wooden member rested firmly against the king's copper curls, the far end where a man's sac would be pressed against the hood of her clitoris. Alayne's exploration was tentative yet fascinated; Cicale couldn't resist an aggressive thrust into the younger woman's hands.

Smiling, Alayne allowed the king to ease her back onto the bed, spreading her legs to welcome Cicale to rest between them; the heavy weight of the other woman above her left Alayne panting for air.

"You want this, don't you?" Cicale pressed her warm hardness against Alayne's moist opening, rocking gently.

"Yes." Alayne gasped, all feeling centered on the small space where Cicale's curls touched hers. "Please."

The request was more of a whimper than a word. Cicale bent to fiercely claim Alayne's mouth, tilted her hips, and thrust.

Filled, Alayne keened her pleasure through the kiss.

Cicale wanted to be gentle, to make the first time between the two last as long as possible, but once buried in the scalding heat of the woman below her, Cicale could not hold back. Every thrust brought the king closer; every cry and moan Alayne made drove Cicale higher. She wanted every ounce of passion the younger woman had to give. The victory on the battlefield that day and her following coronation: neither compared to the sensation rising in the king as she drove her cock into Alayne's willing heat.

The feeling of Cicale's length inside her was unlike anything Alayne had ever known. The women found their rhythm easily, the king driving deeper than Alayne had ever thought possible. The younger woman felt flayed open, a mass of nerves made raw by the woman above her. Every brush of Cicale's linen bound chest against her breasts made Alayne gasp with pleasure, every deep thrust opened her wide and made her cry out.

Alayne could feel the dampness pooling on the bed beneath her hips and wondered briefly if it was hers or Cicale's, or some exquisite mix of the two.

The younger woman could feel the building pressure within her and clutched Cicale's arms, digging her nails in deep, holding on to the only thing which remained fixed in the room: the magnificent woman-king driving her to the stars.

"Come on," Cicale whispered, her lips hot against Alayne's ear. "Come for me." The king plunged harder, faster, rising up on her arms to watch the bliss-filled expression of the other woman's face as she crested.

Cicale's name was on Alayne's lips as she came, the waves of pleasure stronger and more sustained than any Alayne had experienced. The king knew her own release in turn, her hoarse cry of pleasure rising to the ceiling. Limply, Cicale rested her dampened forehead against Alayne's, willing the younger woman to open her eyes.

Blue eyes met green as the two women struggled to regain their breath; there was no doubt or regret in either gaze, just satisfaction and a sense of rightness which ran deeper than either could have guessed.

Cicale dropped a soft kiss on Alayne lips; shifting her weight, Cicale pulled the younger woman into the strength of her embrace. Gathered against the king's broad, warm chest, the length of their legs entwined, Alayne drifted off into a satiated sleep.