Claiming Crystal (13 page)

No sooner had the men climaxed into the woman’s every orifice did the king come to a stop, his cock an awkward bulge in his pants. He felt his mouth watering. He felt his own strange genius coming to him with a rising overflow.

He ushered for his scribes to hurry out of the room with him so that he could dictate his plans.

‘We will arrange my daughter a suitor ourselves,’ the king decided, ‘and we will win her favor by offering her something more than a simple arrangement. She will be offered to not one, but two men.’

The scribes exclaimed at the brilliant idea, although the king had entertained the notion before and snuffed it out the moment he considered the political repercussions of splitting an object like Crystal between two men who
would not be used to sharing. He had not realized why the idea would work until he saw how one of his women so readily offered her body to every conceivable man in every conceivable way, and came to understand that his horny daughter would not be so giving with her suitors.

The rogue she had chosen in the stables had not been a wise choice, but perhaps it had not been a choice at all.

Perhaps, the king had realized, she had simply wanted to take him for her lover.

‘The second suitor,’ the king continued, ‘will not be a suitor at all. I will offer my daughter the rogue Rafael Giovia in the dungeons no matter who she chooses. He will accompany her as her slave, and he will give her whatever affections she wants for.’

This, the lord had assured himself, would solve the problem of her picky tastes in men. Her rebellious attitude towards the sanctity of this ceremony she had so flagrantly dismissed when she decided to fuck a stable man out in the open farmland of the kingdom.

‘Shall we inform the suitors before they continue their presentations?’ the scribes asked.

‘We have wasted enough of their time presenting themselves to my daughter,’ the king declared. ‘We will stop the ceremony this very evening, and Crystal will make her choice without further hesitations.’

At last! At last he had decided!

****

Two more suitors greeted Crystal after she returned from the dungeons, ravished and sleepy with the satisfactions of coitus and dominance.

She went with a bounce in her step, tasting the leftover sensations of the rogue still extravagant in her mouth. She counted herself lucky to be in her position for the first time in her life, not because it delighted her to see people imprisoned, but because she realized that servant or not, it was better to be the jailer than the prisoner, even if the metaphorical philosophers of the same could argue that they were both one in the same from a certain point of view.

She did not ascribe to the thinking of her time. The antiquities that had thrilled women of yesteryear did not wear themselves out on the likes of Crystal, who thought the philosophies dated, and the philosophers, starved of some better sex to light their senses to more suitable ends. A single adventure into this kingdom’s dungeon would change many minds about many things, showing them the grayness in the black and white moralities that stuffy upper class men tried to exert upon a world that was complicated, vast
, and perverted.

Crystal had already forgotten about the other suitors by the time she found one of them waiting at her door. Her bounce faltered, her mood wavered, and she abruptly remembered who she was, where she was, and what had been fated for her without her say in the matter.

This suitor greeted her politely as soon as he saw her rounding the corner.

‘Well met,’ he said with a smile.

His skin was brown and Indian looking. He wore a strange kind of cloth-made crown wrapped around his head with a single and audacious jewel placed at the top into the folds of the cloth. It was a crystal, the woman named after the jewel realized, and before she could find her tongue and pull it away from the tasting of the rogue’s salty kisses and cum she smelled a whiff of the strong perfume the man had, evoking the coffee fields her family had taken great pains to grow even though the environment was not suited for it. She quite liked the cocoa perfume.

His eyes were hazel and his hair was a deep and sleek brush of black, its strands hanging lushly underneath his crown. He wore all white garbs that lined him with the delicacy of a woman’s cloth, although it was not a woman’s cloth, cut for the man and flattering his male figure.

He stood nearly a foot over her head, so that if she stared directly at him she met the proud bulge of his chest and little else.

He continued to greet her with a flourish of words from another language, perhaps hoping to impress her with his versatility, and then he
gently took her hand in his and leaned down to kiss the top of her palm. On a normal occasion the guards at her side would not hesitate to seize him and throw him back down into the dungeon for daring to advance on the lord’s daughter, but they had been told of the suitors, and warned against interrupting this most sacred rite that must occur between men of worth and the woman they desired to marry.

‘My name is Bashir,’ he said to her in a delicate and lilting voice, and did not elaborate with a surname. ‘That is enough for you to know,’ he nodded, smiling with faint resemblance to the rogue’s playful temperament.

‘I wish to speak with you in private.’

His eyes found the door to her bedroom.

‘Very well,’ she replied.

****

Crystal entered into her bedroom to the surprise of gifts stacked upon her dressers. The floors were lined with rugs and drapery. Baskets of exotic fruits and oils were nested in the corners. The drape of an enormous lay of fur had been carefully placed over the foot of her bed. Dainty saucers of make-up and pinches of spice had been dashed across the surfaces of fine woods to give the room the smell of a jungle, with flower petals scattered across her bedsheets, handpicked from her mother’s roses.

A normal man who dared to do such things would be beheaded, and even most princes would face her mother’s scorn for deflowering the garden, giving Crystal a clue as to the immense worth of this man.

‘Who are you, Bashir?’ she asked, taking up a peach with a suggestion of what she might wish him to do with her own juicy fruit.

‘I own under my command 180,000 men,’ he boasted. ‘My land is twice the area of your kingdom, and my people are renowned for their might and their loyalty, should you choose me to earn it. I will not insult you to pretend that our marriage is anything but a political move, but I will honor that move with a gentleman’s discretion.’

As if to demonstrate what a gentleman would do after presenting himself to her, Bashir bowed very low and properly. Crystal felt herself overcome with the same feeling of arousal at the sight of the man bent so low underneath her, but she held her reservations in order to respect the spirit with which he had come to her. His garb was much too elaborate for tearing off and displaying himself for sex. The presents he had heaped in her bedroom were far too clustered to allow any place for a sudden burst of fucking.

He had come to be polite, and perhaps he was the first.

‘I respect your position in this arrangement,’ Bashir admitted, gently fidgeting with his long mustache. ‘I also respect your needs as a woman. Until you allow me to fulfill those needs, I will allow you to maintain your purity. I have even arranged for your broken chastity chain to be repaired, should you choose to wear it again.’

Crystal felt herself scowl at the thought, but she managed to beat the expression off her face so that the tipped eyes of this man would not notice his accident. The chain was beautiful but far too heavy for daily use. Sometimes Crystal had been delighted in the way that it seemed to drive the men crazy at the thought of the unobtainable – so much like boys, most men, in that they suddenly wanted something all the more when they were refused it. Even Bashir, who presented himself with such mature understanding, had a glimmer in his eyes that seemed arrogant to the possibility that she would eventually be won over into his favor and give her body along with her marriage. The more polite a man was, the higher that man’s opinion of himself, and Crystal slowly came to realize that Bashir had a very high opinion of himself for each act of courtesy that he feigned for her honor.

‘In the meantime,’ the wealthy suitor continued, ‘I will arrange for you to choose whomever you wish to fulfill your many, many needs,’ and then he wrapped on the door and welcomed in two of the most beautiful men Crystal had ever laid eyes on.

For a moment she even forgot about her forbidden rogue hidden away in the dungeons.

For a moment she even forgot about the irony that she too lusted after things that were forbidden to her, and early fell to her knees the instant the two beauties approached her. They had been dressed in tasteless loins and overcoats that did not huge their arms nor their bodies. They were muscled, that much was plain, but the tone of their muscles was the delicate sort of texture that pleased women without being gaudy and gross.

Most men, Crystal had learned, took pride in their bodies for imposing over other men. Women did not necessarily care for the large biceps and arms that soldiers took such pride in, and in that spirit these men had been fitted exactly for a woman’s tastes. Their abdominal muscles were fine and rough, teasing a deeper roughness underneath their loins. They both had long hair, although the way in which their manes flowed was radically different from the other and tantalizing in their contrast.

There was a blond man whose hair was lush with curls, spinning down his head and rising against his shoulders like clouds of gold, and there was a man with straight brown hair that reminded Crystal of the flawless native people who once lived in this land before the dynasties came to insist upon their reign, and subjugate any people who denied them the power they felt entitled to.

They both had a rare blue in their eyes, as if they were brothers from different mothers, although the face of one was hard and wide, with a strong jaw and brow against the angular femininity of the other. One stood like an androgynous god for both men and women to fall before, while the other seemed his own statuesque reflection of the ideal man in his prime.

‘It is said that they are twins,’ Bashir explained, ‘despite their different appearances. My people believe that the gods became jealous that two men of such perfection had been born, and as a compromise they changed the features of one to suit a different perfection so that the world would not be offended to gaze upon them,’ and upon hearing this Crystal very nearly laughed out loud, such was the humor in imagining that anyone could be offended by the sight of such stallions. Men would look up to their stature and strength, while women would look down to tastier areas that Crystal could see even now, pressed tightly against the loin clothes, pushing to free themselves and greet her in place.

‘These men I would leave to you to satisfy whatever you wished,’ Bashir promised. ‘They have been eager to meet you, as I am sure you are eager to meet them. All that I ask is that you let me watch when you enjoy my gifts.’

Crystal opened her mouth to protest – she was not a woman who blushed at very many things, but she was also not used to the kind of voyeurism that pervaded most of the countries on the eastern sides of the land, where the spices and coffee beans were in abundance and this Indian looking man surely hailed for as long back as he could remember. She had heard such tales of entire families lined up to observe the wedding night when their daughters and their sons lost their virginity. It was an entertainment and a ceremony, and people abided by it with the strictness of their culture; everyone from everywhere, a slave to what came before them, dictating their behaviors with the scrolls of their exalted ancestors.

‘Show her your desires,’ Bashir offered, gesturing the men to greet Crystal.

They reached down to undo their loins when she suddenly held up a hand to stop them in their tracks. For a moment it seemed that she would decline, like a virtuous girl should, but then that wicked smile so common in her family spread her lips and made her reconsider a different sort of presentation.

‘Do not remove your clothes with your hands,’ she told the two beauties. ‘Remove them with your passions.’

They exchanged uncertain stares. They did not understand what she meant.

Then she nodded at the bulging swells of their erections eagerly pressing against the fabri
c like heads behind a curtain. Bashir smiled and nodded himself, approving of the game, and then stepped into the far corner so that he would not be in the way of whatever ecstasies transpired.

The man comfortably seated himself by a fruit basket and began to leisurely pick out bananas and peaches to savor while he watched. This was only a show to him, but Crystal did not mind – there were worse thing
s in life than shows, and worse perspectives to have in a husband of such wealth and decadence. Bashir might like to watch, but there would be others, Crystal suspected, who wished to participate in rougher ways. She did not split hairs. She took her blessings wherever they revealed themselves.

The blessings of these two men, for instance.

She felt herself longing for them. She touched the hard stomachs of both men with a single lay of her cool white hand, and the instant her palms pressed their softness against the hardness the fabric of their loins were pushed with renewed vigor. One of the men had to re-situate himself with the dizzy eagerness of every young man in lust and love (which Crystal often believed were the same things).