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Red Colossus
🕑 Added 2021-03-26 00:16:41 +0000 UTC"Wait here," she commanded, and while Thespides fumed and gnawed his velvet cap, Taurus muttered wearily under his breath, and Amalric strode back and forth, tugging at his yellow beard and grinning like a hungry lion, Yasmela disappeared again through the curtains and clapped her hands for her slaves.
At her command they brought harness to replace Conan's chain-mail — gorget, sollerets, cuirass, pauldrons, jambes, cuisses and sallet. When Yasmela again drew the curtains, a Conan in burnished steel stood before his audience. Clad in the plate-armor, vizor lifted and dark face shadowed by the black plumes that nodded above his helmet, there was a grim impressiveness about him that even Thespides grudgingly noted. A jest died suddenly on Amalric's lips.
"By Mitra," said he slowly, "I never expected to see you cased in coat-armor, but you do not put it to shame. By my fingerbones, Conan, I have seen kings who wore their harness less regally than you!"
Conan was silent. A vague shadow crossed his mind like a prophecy. In years to come he was to remember Amalric's words, when the dream became the reality.
“Leave us,” he ordered suddenly, his voice not shouting, but lashing with an air of command at the nobles and officers who were gazing upon him like an animal displayed in a zoo.
“You order us about?” Thespides demanded, fuming, before he could control himself.
“Aye,” Conan said. “It’s something I’ll be doing a lot of. You’d best be used to it, and quickly!”
“Do as he says,” Yasmela agreed, and Conan could’ve chuckled at the irony.
Usually it was his sword providing the iron that backed royal words, so long as they could pay him, but now Yasmela’s royal decree served to back what he said. It was a situation Conan would have to rectify in days to come; he could not have his every command seconded by a sweet-smelling princess.
The others left, though Vateesa stayed with her mistress, one of those handmaidens who was between sister and shadow to her patron. Conan did not ask for her to be included in the exodus. Her devotion could be of great use and interest in short order.
“That’s a good start of it you’ve made with your court,” he said to Yasmela. “They’re wild horses indeed, and only time will saddle-break them. You can leave that to me. But you and I still have business to attend to.”
“We do?” Yasmela asked.
“Indeed.”
Conan stalked through Yasmela’s inner chambers to her bedroom, the two women trailing after him, Vateesa sputtering in disapproval at the breach of etiquette. But finally, Conan came to the seraglio where Yasmela slept. He seated himself on a soft sedan, nostrils flaring, drinking in the scent of clean, perfumed women that made this chamber their home. Most were gone, sent away to give Yasmela her privacy, but the princess and Vateesa would be more than suitable for his needs.
“You say your god Mitra has decreed I’m to save your kingdom. You stake me like a fighter in the arena against this Natohk that bedevils you. All this I’m accustomed to—a wanderer grows used to taking what work he can, and wielding an army at another’s behest shouldn’t come much differently than using spear or axe. But I don’t fight for country; this one isn’t mine. And I’d go hungry fighting for justice, if I could find it in one of these warrens you call cities. I’ll kill for you, and in damned great numbers, but I want compensation. And, my lady, you’ve given away your bargaining position worse than a Shemite sniffing gold. For who else sells Mitra’s blessing along with his sword-arm?”
Yasmela listened to all of Conan’s speech, growing more and more perturbed as the rush of enthusiasm that came with a promised end to the threat of Natohk now gave way to her awareness that this Cimmerian wasn’t as snared as she’d thought. Well-used to royal decree and royal blood serving as persuasion for her, she could not see how to wheedle cooperation from this barbarian’s stout, stubborn heart.
“Throw open the royal coffers,” she said, her voice flying up high. “Pick clean the vaults. Name your price, my general, and anything in the kingdom is yours!”
Conan barked a laugh. “You offer a king’s ransom while your king is being ransomed, princess. And were I to sate my greed in your vaults, what coin should stay to pay the legions you place under my command? And what good does coin do me when I march into death’s jaws, perhaps not to emerge? Will you bury it with me so that I may count it in the long, gray life that comes after this one? How long then until my rest is disturbed by the living, with their hot greed to burn away my cold comfort? No. I’ll take my pay in the thrill of battle—and in the warmth of flesh.”
“You can’t be serious!” Vateesa squawked. “My mistress is inviolate! Her maidenhood waits for her bridewealth!”
“Then you’ve struck a bargain. I’ll show you how to put it to use for the price we’ve already agreed to. Lie down on the bed,” he glowered at the princess. “Serving girl! Some wine, for all of us! I’ve no sweet words for lover’s ears, but drink will make me sweet enough.”
Vateesa found a level of comfort in doing the familiar and following commands, especially when Conan spoke his orders as one used to being minded. Not out of the thin-blooded entitlement of the rich and the royal, but because he expected defiance to be earned by violence and she had none to give.
Vateesa did not feel endangered by him, but she did feel he was dangerous. She filled three glasses with scarlet drink, handing one to her mistress. “Shall I call the guards back?” she whispered.
“No!” Yasmela chided her quickly. “I’d take a thousand nights with this brute and his honest lust, if it be that I never again hear the obscene desires Natohk wishes indulged with me.” She drank, gulping anxiously, and looked at her handmaiden’s profile, silhouetted by the stars flickering through the satin-draped window. “Perhaps a man’s touch will remind me that I’m alive… what a warm body is meant for… and I may forget the cold of the grave.”
Conan caught the look between them. It pleased him, their closeness. As he wanted both mistress and servant, it suited him that they already be a pair, like a horse and rider. They already looked alike as sisters, both with long, thick, dark hair that fell in waves down to their shoulders. Their legs were long and shapely, their bellies tautly flat, their breasts full and firm. And soon, they would have even more in common. They would both be his.
“Interesting how dear you are to each other. Why don’t you begin things that way, showing me just how close you are? That way, I won’t do anything to you. I’ll simply… join in.”
Yasmela looked at Vateesa with uncomprehending eyes, not knowing what Conan was expecting. She understood him desiring her body, but this was perversion! True, she and Vateesa had held each other, shared kisses, comforted and pleased each other in small amounts, but that was only innocent play! Conan seemed to want it to be prelude to something else… something more depraved.
“How can you ask me to do such a vile thing?” she cried.
Conan got up, stalking to the edge of the mattress. “Because you need me and as long as you do, you’ll do just as I say!” Then he pushed Yasmela out full length upon the bed. “Don’t worry. Your royal blood may shriek at being ordered about, but your woman’s body will soon take to it. You’ll find the same pleasure in obedience that your handmaiden already has. Or do you think she serves you without satisfaction?”
Too astonished to do anything else, Yasmela lay where he had put her. Conan backed up, dropping back down into his seat and gesturing to Vateesa to proceed. Whether it was out of desire to service her mistress or sheer deference to the Cimmerian, Vateesa pulled her dress over her head, revealing her sensuously heaving breasts. Whatever her reasons, they aroused her greatly.
Yasmela stared at her handmaiden, eyes wide and unfocused from the shock of what she was seeing. There seemed to be two of Vateesa. Perhaps one was the dutiful retainer that Yasmela had known and the other was this courtesan who was undoing her clothes and exposing her bare flesh wantonly. It took little time for her to make her body ungarnished, and though Vateesa had spent many balmy summer nights nude in this room, as nude as the rest of Yasmela’s slumbering friends, now Yasmela was well aware of Conan’s eyes drinking in the girl’s supple body, his lustful gaze making the innocent display of her body something crass and seamy.
“Vateesa!” Yasmela gasped in shock and protest.
Used to royal retainers and dutiful courtiers, she could not believe the boorishness Conan now displayed, the depravity of a man’s rutting instinct. She wanted out of the room immediately, and rose from the bed, but Conan was there as quickly as a cat pouncing on a mouse, shoving her back down to the mattress. She spilled the drink she still had thoughtlessly clasped in her hand and Conan poured it full again. This time, Yasmela obeyed the implicit order, drinking greedily in hopes of calming her nerves.
“Why?” she asked him once the spirits had shot down her throat.
“Because it pleases me,” Conan answered her. “If I succeed, you’ll have a lifetime to enjoy the lavish comforts of your station. I only ask for one night of the pleasures you have to offer—the softness and virtue you’ve grown in this royal garden of yours like a rose tended to with clear water and sharpened shears. What’s it all for if not to be enjoyed by a man such as me, who at least offers fair recompense for it?”
Before Yasmela could think to respond, she looked away from Conan to see Vateesa crawling onto the bed with her, her kneeling body between Yasmela’s open thighs. The princess tried to close her legs, but Vateesa’s body held them open.
Vateesa padded forward, her hands alighting on either side of Yasmela’s body, and her movement pushed Yasmela’s legs further apart. With them spread so wide, Yasmela’s dress could no longer cover her thighs. It inched up her naked white belly, showing her naked sex. Yasmela’s hands flew down to cover her helpless exposure.
“Vateesa! How can you be doing this to me?”
“It’s nothing we haven’t done before,” her handmaiden reasoned. “Nothing we don’t want to do. Wouldn’t you rather feel my hands, my kisses, than his—at least at first? Let me prepare you, my mistress. Once I’m done with you, you won’t mind anything he does. Believe me, I know the look of a man with knowledge of a woman’s passions. That barbarian has learned every secret way in which a maiden might enjoy being used. He won’t allow you to go without delighting in his touch…”
“Enough of women’s words! I’ll move this along until your bodies take over from your ceaseless tongues.”
Conan poured another drink for Yasmela and held it to her lips for her. She downed it quickly, and even as she exhaled her throat’s newfound wetness, he pulled her dress from her shoulders with a single jerk. Notes of sensation filled Yasmela’s head. She was embarrassed and vulnerable and excited, a rush of emotion almost too overwhelming to stand. She sensed something needing and animalistic in the Cimmerian, and though she wasn’t afraid of it, she didn’t know if she could take it, so she tried not to attract his attention any more than she already had.
Yasmela felt her handmaiden’s softly caressing hands running over her thighs, touching their naked quivering in a way that both soothed her fright and provoked more of it. She lingered on the insides of Yasmela’s thighs, then gently trailed her fingertips over Yasmela’s hands, protectively cupped over her naked womanhood.
“Don’t play the statue,” Yasmela heard Vateesa say in a cloying voice. “It won’t do any good. I know where the joys of a woman’s body live. I know how to bid your desire come forward.”
Teasingly, Vateesa pulled at the jeweled circlets rounding Yasmela’s wrists, trying to pry her hands from her hidden cunt. Yasmela pulled back all the harder, pressing her own fingers into the wet flesh of her sex, inadvertently pressuring the sensitive folds waiting to come alive at a living touch, even her own.
Yasmela’s lips parted, almost cooing at her unintended masturbation, though she held the sound back. Still, she was not paying attention as Vateesa bowed her head to Yasmela’s groin—an ironically supplicating move, considering the aggression she showed a moment later, when her tongue crawled softly along the interior of Yasmela’s trembling thigh. The princess’s whole body leapt and she tightened her grip on her trembling pussy, her lips now forming a helplessly excited moan. She realized now how adept her handmaiden was at other women’s pleasure, how much further their games of love could’ve gone, and wondered at how her cadre of maidens had satisfied themselves when she was not around.
Her clit swelled, feeling like a log heaped onto a fire, the flame seeping into it no matter how she wished it otherwise. “Ooooooh, by Ishtar! You cannot make me feel this way! I’m not meant for this—nnnnn!”
Vateesa’s tongue licked over Yasmela’s covering hands, raked over her fingernails as though applying lacquer to them, licked along her digits like rainwater trying to seep through the boards of a wall. Wiggle as it might, her tongue couldn’t get inside to Yasmela’s womanhood, but shivers of desire still coursed through Yasmela’s body.
She didn’t want to be so aroused, but Vateesa’s ministrations could not be denied. Her straining thighs became foreign, alien, sending little shocks of pleasure into Yasmela’s resisting body, making it act on wishes that were not those of Yasmela’s. Her tits swelled and heaved, her nipples stiffly engorged, and her breath raced as if to thrust air to her billowing lungs and thundering heartbeat. She was gripped in a paroxysm of exertion, as though in a sweat-damp and hot-blooded nightmare, but it wasn’t fright that held her. Her girlish affections, her innocent attractions, had now been multiplied a hundredfold. They dominated her body, crackling through her virgin flesh until surely she could feel no different from a slattern.
Shocked at this response she could not control, she looked to Conan and saw his eyes groping her with shameless enjoyment, his only other concern the bottle of spirits that he tended to as he watched Vateesa worked at her lewdly parted thighs.
Comments
Shendude
Loving this!
Alex Woll
Very nice
