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The man kissing me was not my husband.
He was more than twice my age, a foot taller than me, with a chest as wide and as powerful as an engine.
But his mouth was hungry against mine, his hands pivoted my hips to swivel against him. With each kiss he seemed to pull me deeper into his web, under his control. He cared little for what I wanted, as he plunged his tongue further into my mouth, his only thought was how to satiate his own desires.
It was clear he was a man who rarely heard the word “no.”
It did not matter to him that he was not the man I was promised to marry, nor that I was not one of the three women he was already wedded to.
This man was never going to let me go. I was never going to be able to escape him.
But as our kiss deepened, I realized I would never want to.
*
I did not choose who I would marry, which wasn’t unusual for life on the outer planets.
What was unusual was how many people were involved in the matter. It was not just a business transaction: it was a multi-tier corporate merger.
For normal humans, it was a question of the families involved. But because I was a Glitterling, a human subspecies bred for increased psychic and intellectual capabilities, there were far more questions involved.
Like, would my husband have the resources to protect our valuable offspring, who would be even more defenseless than a normal human child? Would he be able to pay the hefty bridal price to the masters who had painstakingly raised and educated me? Would he provide a life of comfort that could surpass the one I’d been used to, with little physical labor and plenty of opportunities for art and literature?
And would he meet the physical requirements of an adult Glitterling — that is, the passion, affection, and Eros that we were trained to celebrate?
Carlon Aggron was not a lord, only a viscount. But he was one of the wealthiest on his planet, owing to the fact that his uncle was the Great Lord Caliban, renowned for his fearsome army and cruelty. I had expected a barbaric brute, much like his famous uncle, but Carlon was different. Shy and quiet, with golden eyes and hair, and icily pale skin. It would not have mattered, but it was a delight to see he was handsome.
He kissed my hand, chatted pleasantly, and offered the bride price. The elders made the arrangements and after a couple of days, my few things were packed. I would be sent to meet him on his planet and to live as his wife.
“Not many Glitterlings on Planet Taggarth,” My priestess, Mirelda, said. Mirelda’s patchy blue skin and cloudy eyes betrayed her origins — a failed Glitterling. Unable to fully perform the tasks of a Glitterling, she would have never been able to marry a normal man. Too dangerous for our weak constitutions. So, like most failed Glitterlings, she worked to raise and train the next generation. “But as the planet accrues wealth, that shall change. You will be at the forefront of our revolution, dear Everild.”
I nodded and reclined in the small cabin of the ship. I was considered a beauty amongst humans, but among Glitterlings I was not terribly special. This was one of the reasons my price was lower, and why the Council was willing to send me to this godforsaken planet, where it was said winters were tortuously cold, summers unbearably hot, and the time between the two extremes far too brief.
My eyes were a human hazel color, my skin similarly human-toned. I was an average height, neither tall and willowy, nor petite and delicate. The only thing that made me obviously Glitterling from a distance was my long, ocean-green hair. Thick and soft, it usually cascaded in waves down my back. For today, it had been braided in a complicated net around my head, and adorned with small violets.
I wore a special gown as well, a glowing white vestment with a deep plunge and bell-shaped sleeves. One might also sense my Glitterling heritage from the way the dress clung to me, against my wide, rounded hips and full breasts.
I had been given a small fur made from a giant rabbit to wrap on my shoulders in preparation for the trip. Except for a few garments and a couple of books, nothing else from my home was mine to bring.
Many Glitterlings are married the moment they enter their new spouse’s land, in a ceremony that combines both welcoming and wedding. But Carlon wanted to follow the traditions of his home planet, to introduce me to his family first. And so I waited to arrive on his strange planet.
*
The ship’s landing is bumpy. There are few windows for passengers, but I am staring through the tiny portholes which have already iced over. I can barely make out a long stretch of small homes and snowed-over farmland, some grazing beasts among them. Now we land in front of a stone fort, a small castle with a single turret and flags whipping in the wind.
I follow Mirelda out of the ship, my head down. I expect to hear music, fanfare, some songs of welcoming.
But all I hear bahçelievler escort is the cold whipping of the wind, which instantly penetrates my inadequate fur. I shiver, feeling my skin tense up and prickle as the frost enters me.
Carlon, in heavy black furs, stands by with a group of attendants who look embittered by the cold. A sallow-faced woman stands behind him, glaring fiercely at the earth.
“Everild, my love,” He says grandly. I curtsy. He kisses my frozen, bare hand, then wraps his arm around me and leads me inside. He does not offer me one of the warm looking furs draped around his neck.
I barely get a chance to look at Mirelda, though she seems equally stunned by the lack of circumstance. As Carlon brings me into the small castle, I hear the ship roar behind me as it takes off.
The violets in my hair turn to ash in the weather.
I cannot leave now.
*
“First I shall give you a tour,” Carlon says stiffly, “And then we will meet my family for a formal dinner.”
No offering of anything to eat or drink, no offer to use the bathroom and wash up after a long journey. I hope he is just nervous, and not that he is ill-mannered.
As he guides me through the edifice, which is revealed not to be a military fort but his home, he remains stiff and distant. No matter. I’ve been trained to handle any social interaction.
I place my hand on his shoulder, and say in my gentlest voice, “What a beautiful room.”
He clears his throat and steps away, as if my hand is poison.
What.
From cold room to cold room, he drones on, barely meeting my eye, flinching every time I try to step closer, not responding to anything I say. I grit my teeth.
Because this is what I was trained for. Perhaps he’s been on this frozen planet for too long. All he needs is a bit of warming up.
“And this is your room.” He says. I try not to seem disappointed. It’s fairly clean and spacious, but empty. A four poster bed with some furs that seem like they’ve seen better days piled atop it. A dingy, tiny carpet at the foot of the bed. No bookshelves. No chair. No flowers or tapestries or art.
Just a bed, an unlit fireplace, and some dusty curtains.
Still. I can make the most of this. Carlon, with his high cheekbones and wobbly little chin, is a perfectly attractive young man. And he wouldn’t have purchased me if he hadn’t wanted what I could offer.
I sit on the bed and smooth the place next to me, “Won’t you come join me, Viscount?”
He walks over as if being led by a puppeteer, his knees barely bending. It would be comical if it were not so exquisitely sad.
“What a lovely room. I suppose I will have to fill it up with my own comforts.” I say.
“Yes.” He grunts.
“Perhaps you can show me.” I say, placing my hand on his thigh, “I’m unused to having a bedroom of my own.”
He makes another indistinguishable noise, which I take as an opportunity. I press my mouth to his, gently. Our first kiss.
He responds by just abruptly forcing his face against mine. I try to guide him with the kiss, parting my lips slightly to caress his mouth with my tongue, but he remains rigid, his lips hard and ungiving.
“Mmmm,” I coo, as I lean forward, deeper into our kiss, pressing my heaving breasts against his side. I attempt to roll my tongue deeper into his mouth, and he shifts awkwardly and coughs into mouth, our teeth bumping. I immediately retract.
“That was nice,” I say, wiping my face and rubbing his thigh with my hand. I’m desperate to enchant him, to attempt every trick I’ve learned. I try not to dwell on the horror of a lifetime of marriage to this cold fish.
“Yes, very well.” He stammers and leaps to his feet, “My uncle will be here in an hour. You should rest.”
“But my trunk?”
But he has swept out of the room before he hears me.
*
I am tempted to spend the next hour crying but instead I get to thinking. Carlon has not turned out to be exactly what I imagined, but he had bought a Glitterling for a reason. I just needed to find the way to his heart — and his cock.
I don’t have my trunk so I can’t douse myself in perfume, but I clean up my face without smudging the makeup in my tiny adjoining bathroom. When a servant comes to fetch me, I leave the fur, even though it’s so cold in the castle that my nipples have visibly hardened against my thin silk dress. Perhaps this will be more appealing to the Viscount.
The fanfare I had expected upon disembarking is here now. Two dozen finely dressed gentlemen and women, a gaggle of playing children, and at the center, a large, dark-haired man with a golden crown.
His height and strength only becomes more impressive as I descend the stairs. I’m not tiny but he has a foot on me. His face is harsh but surprisingly, I realize with a thrill, quite handsome. The scar across his eye just makes him more dashing, boldens the powerful green of his eyes.
This must be the ankara escort Great Lord Caliban, Carlon’s fearsome uncle. Three slender women stand behind him, all of them as blonde and pale as Carlon. His three wives, no doubt.
“This is Everild,” Carlon says meekly, guiding me by my hand to meet the Lord. I curtsy, keeping my head down.
“What an enchanting beauty,” he says, his voice booming across the room. “You have found yourself a worthy bride.”
I feel his eyes all over me, lingering on my exposed bosom. Everyone in the room is silent as he leers. I swallow and straight up, conscious of how my breasts are propped up in this dress, arching my back slightly to further flatter them.
“I have met your species before, but only briefly. Welcome to our little kingdom,” he says, not without unkindness.
The terrifying Great Lord Caliban — this was him? He was large, strong, intimidating, yes — but not some monster. He was clearly well-mannered. Or at least I thought so, until his next request.
“Might I kiss your bride, Carlon? For luck?” He asked.
Carlon nods, not speaking. I had the sense that when Caliban asks for something, he’s not really asking.
Of course, nobody asks what I want. But I feel a thrill at the idea of being touched, in any way, by this towering man.
“I will be your new cousin,” He says, placing a hand on my shoulder, “I welcome you to our planet and our family.”
He has to bend to reach me. In the moments before our lips touch, I feel electricity in the tiny pocket of air between us. That energy floods my body the moment our lips meet.
His lower lip catches between mine, so full and rough. I can feel just the tip of his tongue on the rim of my mouth. His hand grips my small waist in a way that feels intimate, but not entirely inappropriate. But I can feel his naked hunger in our embrace. I can feel how badly he wants it to become inappropriate.
How, if he could, he’d rip my clothes off and force himself onto me. How he’d bite my neck while my hips bucked and legs wrapped around him.
I know because I want it to.
But the kiss is brief. A nearly-respectable peck, despite his secretive flick of the tongue. But my face is flushed when he releases me, and I find myself catching his eye throughout our long dinner.
Though this is Carlon’s home, Caliban takes the head of the table. He regales us with stories of his travels and I am entranced by the worlds he’s seen, the languages he’s mastered, the wealth he’s accrued. I cannot help but feel like it’s Caliban who should have a Glitterling as a wife, not Carlon, who seems to shrink even smaller over the dinner.
I am brought to my chamber after dinner, while the men continue to drink in the hall. “His Great Lord Caliban will come by to bid you farewell,” the servant says.
“Wait, what do you mean?”
“It’s an honor,” the servant says, slamming my door shut in my face.
I pace back and forth. I don’t know the ceremonies here, the laws, the rules. Will he come by with his wives simply to shake my hand, or will he barge in expecting a taste of his nephew’s new bride?
I don’t admit to myself which one I would prefer.
A powerful knock on my door. I tell myself not to run forward. With my practiced, easy grace, I open the door gently and curtsy.
“My Great Lord Caliban.”
He bows. Standing there in his boots and fine red jacket, he looks like a true terror. But his eyes are burning with a desire I recognize, and when he speaks his voice is soft.
“Good night Everild. I wish you best of luck with my nephew.” He pauses, and I see his eyes flicker to my paltry room, “Is my nephew taking care of you?”
“I’m sure he will. We are still getting to know each other, and he’s shy. Gentlemanly.” I correct myself. The wine has gone to my head.
“I would have a hard time remaining a gentleman around you,” He says, staring me down greedily. He takes a step closer, leans his massive arm on the doorway. “All night, I’ve been waiting to steal a kiss from you again.”
“I suppose now is your opportunity.” I say it before I know what I am saying. He does not hesitate.
Brushing his hand against my face, then gripping the back of my head more tightly, he descends upon me for the second time that evening. His hands pull up my skirt, and when they graze my skin, for the first time since arriving, I feel real warmth.
I open my mouth for him, allowing him to pour his tongue into me the way we had both desperately wanted to earlier. His lips are both puffy, pillowy almost, but rough and demanding. He squeezes my thighs with his large, rough hands. I desperately want to have more of him. My body wants it too, and he can sense it. He pushes me against the wall and I drape my legs around him. He thrusts his hips forward to pin me against the wall and I feel, already, an unmistakable hardness on him.
We both know nothing can come of this, and our hunger only makes it more intense. maltepe escort We claw at the other for a few more desperate seconds in a perfect rhythm before we finally break apart, both breathless. He adjusts his jacket, bows again and I almost forget to curtsy, nearly losing my balance as I remember my manners.
“Good night.”
*
When Carlon approaches my bed chambers, he seems giddy. Perhaps the wine.
I have washed off and changed — not only for comfort, but also because I’m certain one could smell Caliban’s lust on me. I’m still trembling just from the memory of his touch. I’m still burning hot from being in his powerful arms.
Now I wear a slip, a fur lined robe, and lace slippers. I’ve decided that in my next interaction with Carlon, I mustn’t seem too eager, too available. Some men like a challenge. So I do not stand to answer the door when Carlon knocks.
Even his knock is weak.
Instead I say, lazily, “Yes, come in!” While I recline on the bed and flip through one of the three books left in my room. An agricultural history of the snow-oat. Riveting.
“Good evening,” He says as he joins me on the bed.
“Hello,” I say, as monotone as possible. He stretches out next to me, which surprises me. Perhaps this new approach is working.
“Did you enjoy meeting my uncle Caliban?”
“He seems an impressive man.”
“Yes, he is.” He pauses, “Nobody else on this planet has three wives, you know. Only he’s allowed. And six children with each of them.”
Interesting. I test the waters, “Does virility run in your family?”
“I am one of nine,” He says, resting his hand on my hip.
Even more interesting.
“And do you hope to have as many children as him?”
A microexpression on his face reveals that I’ve veered off in the wrong direction.
“Perhaps.”
Fuck. Refocus. A different tactic: “Your uncle seems like quite a passionate man.”
“Did you enjoy how he kissed you?”
Here we go. “I was surprised you allowed it.”
He begins to stroke my leg, lifting my robe to feel my flesh.
“How crude he was. How much he wanted me. And to kiss me like that in front of you, and his wives.”
His hand grips my flesh harder, and he moves it up further on my thighs.
“When he came by to wish me good night, I could tell he wanted more.”
“And did you give it to him?” he says, his voice breathy. He cups my ass, pulling me closer to him.
“No,” I whisper, “I’m yours only.” I pause, examining his expression. “But I let him kiss me again.”
That’s it. “Did you like it?”
“Yes,” I say, “He pinned me against the wall and kissed me with his tongue. He felt my body through my clothes, groping and touching me. Right there, on the threshold. I could tell how much he wanted to fuck me. I told him that I wasn’t allowed to. That you decided what I could and couldn’t do. He wanted me so badly but I wouldn’t let him.”
Carlon jams his hand through my braid and aggressively starts kissing me. He is clumsy and sloppy, his mouth messily all over mine. His grip on my head is uncomfortably tight and I try to adjust into him to make it easier, but he is unattuned to my body. He drags his mouth up and around me as he paws at my clothes.
On top of me, he unbuttons his trousers and pulls them to his knees. His cock is hard and sizable, but as he reveals as he tries to push it in me, totally out of his control. He continues to kiss me sloppily and I try to turn my face to adjust again, but he is like a dog — lapping me with his tongue, nipping at me with his teeth. I wipe the wet hair out of my face as he helplessly tries to stick his cock in me.
“Here, my love,” I say after he slams his cock uncomfortably hard into my bones for the fifth time. I push him off my shoulder to get access to my arm, and guide him into me.
Fortunately, Glitterlings are bred to easily lubricate. And it wouldn’t matter. I’m still dripping wet from Caliban’s kiss.
With little care or precision, he thrusts into me, continuing to aggressively make out with my mouth even as I struggle against him. I want him slower but he seems to only have one speed. He sinks his head into my neck, soaking it with his saliva as he drenches me in sloppy kisses. My hair is stuck in the spit he’s left all over my face, and I try to dry myself with an elbow as he thrusts into me.
I try to imagine Caliban on top of me, remembering his perfect balance of tenderness and hunger. But before I can even put him in his mind, Carlon groans and ejaculates, pulling out mid-way and spraying me with cum.
I close my eyes as he flops over next to me. I could roll my finger in his mess, suck on it slowly and seductively, tell him how delicious he was — but he’s not paying attention, so I don’t bother. I wipe the combination of spit and cum off my face with my robe and then attempt to drape myself over him, but he shuffles me off of him.
“Good night, Everild.” Carlon says as he gets to his feet, pulling his pants back up. I lay on the bed for a moment before retreating to the bathroom to clean myself up.
I fall asleep with a fist clenched between my thighs, dreaming of Caliban.
AN: I have more parts of this story and will continue if folks are interested! Thanks for reading.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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