A Bastard and His Bitch Ch. 03

Author's Note: Readers be warned that this tale is a gradual development of the main character and leads a romance in the ethereal and real worlds. Sex enhances the flavor of the story. It goes without saying that if you have not read the previous chapters, you should before starting this installment. Please sit back and enjoy the telling of this tale of Ciara and her lover, Amal.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The ominous blackness of the new moon was shredded by searing, jagged lightning streaks and shattered by the ear-shattering roar of thunder that instantly followed. The mountains below trembled in awe and fear while the waters of the rivers and lakes roiled violently as the unleashed wind mercilessly gusted and viciously swirled. Terrified beasts howled in utter dread as their winged counterparts took to blind flight desperately seeking escape.

The ice men of the five clans cowered in their domed tents in huddled families. The shaman of each clan cast the oracle bones and cried out at the ominous reading. Moments later a great wail of despair was heard as the recast bones foretold the same divination - a momentous event... something... or someone... a change in the world as they knew it.

"Arrgh, Goddess of Heaven and Earth!" cried Rena through clenched teeth as the pangs of child birthing ripped cruelly through her spasming distended stomach. Beads of sweat dripped from her face and drenched the thin birthing gown that clung to her writhing body.

Rena lay with her back on a slanted narrow, inverted Y-shaped table that she had devised with the input of Ruth, the midwife. Her bent legs were spread apart with her feet pushing on wooden blocks at the end of each arm. At the other end of the strange table, she pulled upon cloth straps that were fastened to embedded rings on either side of her head.

Her sister-in-law, Mary, was the first to test it and promptly delivered to Owen's surprise and delight not one but two babies... a boy named Connell ("strong wolf" like his father)... and a girl named Hilda ("battle maiden" like her mother). "Come on, you silly weak bitch, push!" taunted Mary to spur on Rena. "I popped out two brats... and you are struggling to let go of only one! Hurry! My babies are clamoring out for my swollen tits... and my poor little brother is consumed with fretting. Push, damn it!"

Bracing herself, Rena issued a guttural grunt while sliding into a quasi-squat. As her buttocks slipped into the table split and caused her hairless sex to be spread wide. "I can see the baby's head, milady!" cried Ruth the midwife who sat between Rena's spread legs. "Bear down... harder... take a deep breath and then push with all your might! Do it! Almost out! More... for the love of all things holy... push!"

"Goddess damn Liam!" groaned Rena as gut-wrenching pangs of labor consumed her. "He... and that big cock of his... yes... that is right! He should have known better... than to listen to me. He is supposed to be the voice of reason... to deny my lewd carnal demands. But no! He gives into me... and ruts with me... like a bull taking his heifer... hard and fast... the way I like...

"It is Liam's fault for obscenely exciting me! He should have known that once he started shooting his seed in my twitching womb... it would be more than I could take... and force me to climax... what a glorious eye-opening orgasm... triggering my labor! Damn that Liam!"

"Almost there!" cried Mary, rudely interrupting Rena's husband-cursing. "Push with all of your might, princess!" And Rena did and suddenly felt moments later a strange 'releasing' of her lower belly and then to her utter relief, the blessed cry of her newborn baby

"It is a... girl, milady," yelled an elated Ruth, "as foretold! She who will give birth to a new world..." With that uttered declaration, the heavens ominously roared with a tumultuous heavenly cacophony.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"She has your eyes, my beloved. See how they glow amber with pleasure, and how can our little Ciara not be while voraciously sucking on your fat distended nipple..."

"Ha, you horndog... our daughter reminds me of you... given how she sucks on my teat. She suckles my mother's milk... and has me on the verge of climaxing and seeing stars. Oooh this nasty little one. Hmmph!

Then addressing her nursing newborn, Rena cooed, "Do you see, little one, this big handsome brute of a man looking at you? He is your perverted sire... who is always taking advantage of your poor innocent mother. The moment you have sated yourself at my tit, been burped, and placed in your crib to sleep, your loving but always randy father will have his way with me... stripping me naked... draining my untouched engorged breast... and the one you are latched on to for any leftover milk.

"Then, your beast of a sire will force... yes, he will... your mother to suck on that big piece of man-meat poking up from his crotch. Yes, that fleshy big sword of his that made you. Your poor mother will be forced to milk him dry. Yes, I will! And he will... say that his discharge will restore my vitality! Ha!

"So, watch from your crib and learn, little one, for it is how women of the East learn the ways of men and how to pleasure them... and themselves. That is how my mother learned... how I learned... and how you will learn. You will one day put such knowledge and skills to good use... when you meet the one you are destined to meet. And it is how you will make him yours... and fulfill your destiny. Now, drink, Ciara, drink..."

At this urging, Ciara focused her gaze on Rena while latched on her mother's fat nipple. For some strange reason, Rena saw her daughter's hazel eyes glow warmly as if in understanding and total agreement.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

In the years to follow, the first steps that would shape Ciara's path were taken. Owen had been recalled to the capital. As a reward for his distinguished military service, the title of Earl of the Northern Reaches which included his former fort, was bestowed on him. Mary and her twins went with him, much to the delight of Sir Cedric who now had grandchildren to bless his senior years. Liam was appointed to the commander's position in lieu of Owen, and Ciara became the titular head of the women's archer contingent.

Given the inclusion of fifteen women archers to the fort at a ratio of one woman to three men, nearly all had found mates among the male defenders, and the subsequent pairing and pregnancies made for the special birthing table being often used. For the few who did not, they were extremely popular among the remaining males.

Because of the unexpected marriages and subsequent births, the once-outpost developed into a permanent garrison with family-living quarters being built outside and adjacent to the rear gate that face the principality. Slowly but surely others were drawn to the fort as it was now called, and soon the presence of a tavern, blacksmith, shops, and other crafts helped create a permanent village.

Because their homes were outside of the fort, the children did not often venture into or play in the fort itself. When they were old enough, weapons training was required of them on the developed training grounds adjacent to the fort. The girls were schooled in archery and long spear, whereas the boys were trained in throwing the javelin and using sword and shield. For those living on the edge of the Frigid Lands, ice men raids and clan attacks could occur at any moment. At such moments, the children would be pressed to help their parents and defend the fort and ultimately themselves.

Ciara, however, received additional special individualized training in the weapons and warfare ways of the East from her mother as passed down from generation to generation of women in her family. Rena was amazed at how quickly and adeptly her five-year-old daughter had mastered her gifted long knife with deadly cunning and skill. By the time she was ten, Ciara could shoot arrows from her short bow with agility and deadly accuracy while on horseback or afoot, and could wield a saber with innate adroitness and ferocity in the sword fighting style of the East.

Yet, while Ciara's impressive fighting skills set her apart from other children her age, it was her eyes, the windows to her soul, that really distinguished her. Like her mother and grandmother, her expressive hazel eyes from the moment of birth conveyed her moods and most basic desires. However, as Ciara developed into an unusually precocious girl, her eyes could capture and hold... almost command... another's attention. This uniqueness was further enhanced by an almost 'otherworld' quality about Ciara's hazel eyes... as if she was 'seeing' things that others did not.

With straight black hair and ivory-toned skin, Ciara had a petite and slender stature more akin to her grandmother, Belinda, than her mother who took after her father's physical characteristics. Ciara was the epitome of her name's meaning - "little dark one."

As she grew, she amply demonstrated that her name meant more than just physical appearance. This manifested itself when as a girl, she would often take a break from her mother's rigorous military training to roam the battlefield across the shallow river. There Ciara could be seen wandering the desolate area especially that of the bone walls.

At first, some thought that maybe the dark little one was curious as to the battlefield and its historical significance. Yet, Ciara asked no questions about previous battles but eerily could speak of long-forgotten conflicts in such detail that one would think that she had been there during the battles well before her time.

A few who watched her from the ramparts thought that perhaps their little dark princess might be... well, a bit daft... as they watched her pick up objects, take them to the river, and then place them in one of five piles she had made. Yet, Ciara's sparkling nature, charming personality, intelligent responses, and ability to relate to anyone dispelled such thoughts.

Then one night after dinner, Liam was cleaning a two-handed ice man sword that was his prized war trophy. The wide blade was inscribed with mysterious runes that none of the defenders could decipher until Ciara laid eyes on it and said as a matter of fact, "That is Ragnok's 'Body Cleaver'... he was the chieftain of the Red Bear clan.

When her shocked parents asked how she knew this, Ciara pointed to the runes and spoke in the tongue of the ice men before saying, "It says so right there.

"You can read and speak the language of the ice men? How? Who taught you?" asked a surprised Liam.

"Why, they did," was Ciara's response as if she thought her father's question was silly.

"Who are they?" pressed a perplexed Rena.

With a sigh of resignation at having to explain further, Ciara said simply, "The spirits of the dead ice men who died on the battlefield across the river... they have taught me to speak and read their language among other things. As for this sword, Ragnok told me that you took it for yours when you slew him after he managed to scale the rampart."

"Are there are of the dead about us?" Liam asked as a shiver shot up his spine and he furtively looked about.

"No, not here. They cannot cross the running water of the river to visit, but they can call out to me... begging me to listen to their pleas. I have heard them from the time I was born... but elected not to cross the river to meet them until I was... prepared... strong in body and resolve... skilled at combat... and able to carry and wield the enchanted long knife gifted to me by my wise great-grandmother.

"While living, they feared you, mother," Ciara said calmly as she looked at Rena, "But... in death, they fear me even more. I can help them find their way back to their clan and loved ones... to be given the proper rites... and to rest in peace... until born again. Or I can, if displeased, doom them to eternal wandering... mourned by none... remembered by none."

Reflecting momentarily, Ciara then partially unsheathed her long knife, saying, "And for those few bitter, twisted, and vengeful spirits such as the head shaman who first died on grandmother's arrow in the Battle of the Pass... well... he sought to attack and possess me... only to die... a second time... screaming... begging... as he was bound and absorbed by the kiss of the freezing cold enchanted metal of my long knife which I call 'Soul Taker.'"

While her daughter could see, interact with, and even kill again the spirits of the dead shocked Rena, what bothered her the most was just how nonchalant Ciara was about her 'gift'... taking it for granted as one would take breathing.

Then gazing at her flabbergasted father, Ciara said before her mother could interrupt her, "I know how to achieve peace between the ice men and the people of the North." Seeing the stunned looks yet avid attention of her parents, she continued, "It will, however, both sides must trust, let go of past animosity, and be open to forming a mutually beneficial relationship between the two people.

"It will start by returning to the clans, the skulls of their fallen. Towards this end, I have gathered the skulls found in the bone walls and elsewhere on the battlefield... cleansed them in running water... and separated them by the five clans. How? The skulls 'told' me where they could be found... their names... and to which clan they belonged.

"My next step would be to 'reach out' to the shamans of the five clans. How? Well... it would be best if I could travel to the Frigid Lands and meet with the shamans' council face-to-face... but, my father along with my grandfather and his brother, the King would probably not permit this.

"So, I must reach them through the dream world. I have never attempted to do so... and am concerned about the unknowns... who... or what... I might meet when traveling in the nether realm... but it is necessary. I will ask the five shamans to gather and meet me at the entrance of the battlefield and conduct them through the bone walls to the skull piles. I will offer to point out which pile belongs to which clan and even go so far as to identify each skull owner if asked.

"In return for allowing them to retrieve the skulls of their clansmen, I will ask that they argue for a treaty with the North. The North will give the ice men what they need the most... food... to survive the harsh winter. In exchange, the ice men will provide skins and raw metal ores which they have of plenty. If this beneficial partnership comes to pass, there will be no need for conflicts and unnecessary deaths.

"Oh, and I need to be fitted with armor... red of course. Yes, I know that a small eleven-year-old girl in armor may seem a bit ridiculous, but it is necessary. The shamans must see... and believe... that my lineage is that of their feared Red Demon Goddess... or as Ragnok spat out when he first learned of whom I was...'the spawn of the bitch-witch.' So, what say you, father and mother?"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The clan chieftains and their shamans were met by Prince Duncan, Liam as the commander of the fort, and the three Red Demon Goddesses - Belinda, Rena, and Ciara. The sight of her fully-armed grandmother and mother brought instant fear to the men of the Frigid Lands; however, it was the petite red-armor-clad Ciara who carried only her enchanted long blade at her side that drew and held their attention.

Striding casually towards the ice men group, Ciara removed her small helmet to let all before her clearly see her glowing hazel eyes. Bowing slightly, she lifted her pretty face and in the language of the ice men said, "Well met honored leaders and wise advisors of the Frigid Lands. Today we sign no paper treaty, but pledge by all that we hold true and holy to abide by and live in peace.

"We will enter into a mutually beneficial cooperation that will replace needless war and death. On the full moon after the Harvest Moon, let us again meet here to exchange grain and other food items for hides and metal ore." Then gazing at the five leaders before her, she let her captivating eyes look deeply into theirs before asking, "Does this arrangement meet with your approval?"

When the chieftains pledged their agreement, Ciara took out her knife and nicked her left thumb so that it bled. "Come then, bind our words with a blood bond." The leaders of the ice men understood the solemnity of this oath and without hesitation, cut their thumbs to press it against that of the youngest Red Demon Goddess.

"As a token of our pact, take these tapped barrels of a specially brewed mead from my grandfather's brother, King Godfrey." Then taking a small cup that dangled from her hip, Ciara drew and drank a wee dram from each barrel before saying, "The King's mead is a heady brew made from fermented honey, pure water, fruits, and herbs. Around your clan fire, drink to the blood oath you gave today, and hope never to break it for I will be forced to haunt your dreams."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Over the course of the next seven years, Ciara oversaw the trading agreement she had founded. Determining what was a "fair trade" proved daunting... how many sacks of grain were worth piles of metal ore and raw hides? This led to many meetings and disagreements; yet, both sides were committed to peace that would be based on trade. In large part, this was due to Ciara who while dwarfed by those of both sides, fairly but with an iron-fist mediated disputes and administered justice to both sides.

Ciara convinced the ice men clans that it was to their advantage to trade in "semi-processed" materials. Instead of using their existing furnaces to make weapons, they could produce bricks of smelted iron, copper, and lead which would be easier to transport and fetch a higher price. Discovered ores of gold and silver and uncut gemstones were an added bartering source. Salted-preserved hides, especially those of the wooly mammoth hunted by the ice men and unknown elsewhere, brought better deals as did its ivory tusks and teeth.

Besides raw grains, Ciara had the men of the North offer milled flour, cheese, beans, dried fruit, and preserved vegetables that could be readily used during the winter. Bolts of sturdy cloth fabric and kegs of brewed spirits were always in demand by the clan leaders.

The fort became a bustling trading center between the North and the Frigid Lands. While there were those on both sides who sought to cheat, Ciara discouraged such practices with standard sizing of traded commodities, quality checks, and swift and harsh penalties for swindlers on both sides. Under her watchful eye, the two former enemies became invaluable trading partners.

Yet, despite her success, Ciara knew that this was but a way-stop along her road of destiny. This awareness began with the onset of her feminine bleed that marked her passage into womanhood. She found herself wandering the dream world more and more in search of something... or someone.

And then Ciara found him... or rather his presence... a masculine voice... kind and pleasant... at first friendly... morphing into that of a companion and then good confidant... and then more. She found herself longing to reunite with her now ethereal interest and longing got his pleasant words, gentle touches, and soft kisses. Upon turning eighteen, Ciara's dream trysts had become seductively addictive... passion permeated... sometimes pleasant... sometimes disturbing... whether visiting or being visited... but only lingering vague but intriguing memories upon awakening.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

After years of the successful exchange of goods and the cessation of hostilities, a royal courier arrived saying that the King had summoned Ciara to present herself at his court for the Winter Solstice celebration. The event would host dignitaries from the Kingdom of the South and for the first time, a delegation from the West would be present since a fragile truce had been declared.

Rena, Ciara's mother, immediately was suspicious of her uncle's motive in summoning her daughter. Recalling her youthful fears when she had been her daughter's age of being involuntarily made part of the King's scheming to achieve a diplomatic treaty with the West, she informed the herald that while Liam had to remain on post, she and her parents, especially her mother, would "accompany" her now eighteen-year-old daughter when responding to the King's command.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The voice of the captain of the royal guard broke through the hum of the nobles gathered in King Godfrey's court on the Winter Solstice, "Prince Duncan of the North... Princess Belinda of the North, the South, and the East... Princess Rena of the North and the East... and Princess Ciara of the East."

Just as they had with the chieftains and shamans of the Frigid Lands, Ciera, her mother, Rena, and her grandmother, Belinda, made a stunning impression on King Godfrey, his court, and the foreign personages. Foregoing courtly attire, the royal trio had elected to attend in their red armor to show that they were warrior-princesses. While Belinda and Rena were armed with sabers and long knives, Ciara only had on her right hip the enchanted blade that all knew had been gifted to her by her great-grandmother, the Supreme Empress of the East.

To Godfrey, the message of his brother's womenfolk was painfully clear... an apparent warning that any attempt to use or force Ciara into one of his pollical schemes would be met with swift armed force by her mother and grandmother... a possibly his rather eerie grandniece. Looking at the frightening trio, Godfrey now understood why the barbarians of the Frigid Lands called to fearsome trio the Red Demon Goddesses.

Clearing his throat to catch the attention of those in attendance, Godfrey said in a commanding tone, "Princess Ciara, will you step forward." Stepping clear of her family, Ciara stood before the King and bowed as would be expected of one in armor. When she looked up to engage him with her bewitching eyes, Godfrey quickly turned to avoid being captivated by his petite yet frightening niece and quickly nodded to his chamberlain.

"Hear ye, one and all!" intoned the chamberlain in an official voice. "Let it be known that Ciara, Princess of the East, through her ingenious ways, forged a treaty between the Kingdom of the North and the clans of the Frigid Lands. And let it be known that the blood oath exchanged between her and the five clan chieftains has resulted in a beneficial trade pact and a cease to the animosity that before her intervention had existed for generations.

"Now, King Godfrey, monarch of the North, announces that for her distinguish service to the Crown, Ciara, Princess of the East, is bestowed the title of Princess Royal of the North and shall after her father, Prince Duncan of the North, be the next in line of succession to his throne."

This announcement brought a loud gasp of surprise from the assembly, followed by cheers of support. Just as King Godfrey was about to step forward to make his own remarks, a nobleman from the delegation of the South stepped forward to say, "Your Majesty, I humbly beg your pardon. I am Duke Reginald, the ambassador of my liege lord, his Royal Majesty Luther the Second of the South.

"Upon learning of the feats of Princess Ciara with the barbarians of the Frigid Lands, my liege lord has sent me to correct an egregious misjudgment by his father, Luther the First. In his haste to fulfill a vow made with your father, he did not confer the title of Princess of the South to Princess Belinda's children or their children.

"On his behalf, I ask that you allow the title of Princess of the South to be added to the titles of Princess Rena, her daughter, Princess Ciara, and any daughter of hers. As such, these blessed individuals shall share and be known by their royal lineage to the South, the North, and the East."

This brought a rousing cheer from the assembly and King Godfrey beckoned for Ciara to stand next to him on his dais. This she did; however, as she turned to face the nobles and honored guests, Ciara suddenly stiffened as her hazel eyes flared before she began scanning the many faces before her. Then to the astonishment of Godfrey, her family, and those in attendance, Ciara strode purposely toward a group of distinctly clad individuals of the Kingdom of the West that stood off to the side of the main group.

Although surprised by Ciara's movement towards them, the delegation made no effort to admit the little princess into their ranks. That is until she stopped an arm's length from them and "beheld" them with those compelling eyes of her.

The eyes of those in the front who sought to block her widened in growing apprehension as to exactly who... or for that matter what "being" stood calmly but strangely intimidatingly before them. A mysterious trembling took hold of those who sought to block Ciara, depriving them of control of their bodies and causing them to drift apart to make way for this frightening royal.

Making her way through the West cluster, Ciara ferreted out a hooded figure standing in the rear of the group. Before he could evade her, she took hold of him and rising on her toes, reached up and swiftly pulled back his hood. A handsome tanned face was reveled with dark black hair, and a mustache that merged with a neatly trimmed goatee. But above all, his eyes were almost black... like sparkling black opals.

For the first time in her young life, Ciara was surprised to encounter another who showed no apprehension but instead intently met and held her gaze. From his slightly widened eyes, she knew that he felt the impact of her arresting hazel eyes on him but was flustered at the feeling of being drawn into his dark eyes. Then seeing the slight smile of acknowledgement on his lips, it dawned on her what was happening.

"You are 'he,' are you not? The one who has lingered on the edges of my awareness... the one who I am destined to meet. Tell me who you are."

"I am Amal, princess, the one who you have sought... for in the tongue of the West, my name means 'hope'... that will light your dark path. Like you... I have...'sensed'... you for many years... but of late... you are... the one who has dominated my dreams."

When King Godfrey quickly followed Ciara's family to the two, the stranger from the West threw back his cloak to reveal black lamellar armor with a large, stylized hand-span disc covering the center of his chest. A wicked-looking curved short sword was on either hip, speaking of an unusual fighting style. Standing straight, the young man said after a courtesy bow to the King, "Greetings, King Godfrey, peace be upon you. I am Amal, Prince of the West.

"My father, Omar, the Sultan of the West and all that is beyond, sends his royal well-wishes and gratitude for hosting our poor delegation. I personally have come to meet Princess Ciara for she is the one who has filled my dreams." Then indicating to Ciara to whom he bowed slightly, he continued by saying, "And I am not disappointed for she is what I have expected."

As if suddenly possessed by some unknown force, Ciara then stepped forward and said clearly for all to hear, "Mother, grandmother and grandfather, and my King, this..." she said as she pointed to Amal with a slight smile, "is the man I will marry once the official banns are posted."

And to this, Amal, Prince of the West, simply smiled and nodded to Ciara's delight.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It is a strange thing when two people who were foretold to meet finally meet and then promptly declare to one and all that they will marry. This momentous happening was complicated by the fact that one was the Princess of the North, South, and East by blood while the other was her missing piece, the Prince of the West. Their impending union would to a possible unification of the four known kingdoms or to worldwide upheaval and disaster.

Then to make matters even more convoluted, the various monarchs, their representatives, and advisors sought to sway or control what might happen to their advantage. Amid the often-heated discussions that ensued... none of which asked for Ciara's or Amal's thoughts on the matter.

Ciara "felt" Amal discreetly gazing at her, and after meeting his eyes, she then looked to a side door to the assembly hall and was relieved when he nodded in turn. As she silently slipped out, Ciara knew that Amal would moments later be following in her shadow.

As Amal moved towards her on the balcony, Ciara was impressed that for a young man... twenty or a bit older... he could move his tall muscular body with natural agility, strength, and stealth... eluding his bodyguards with ease. He was handsome but in an unassuming and pleasant manner, and that made it easier for Ciara to warm up to him. And yet, there was something about Amal that was more than met the eye, and this intrigued her.

Approaching Ciara, Amal saw a diminutive beautiful young woman. She carried herself as one more at ease in leather, armor, and with weapons on her hip or in her hand than with lace, frills, and gentile manners. Yet what struck him the most was her aura of strength, confidence, and a certain mystique.

"It is good to finally meet the man who has traipsed through my dreams since I crossed over into womanhood. Now, I can finally put your face to the man who haunted and... well, as of late... seduced me, you corruptor of innocent chastity!"

"Me 'haunting' your dreams? Ha! Seducing you? Ha!" was the playful retort that easily slipped from Amal's grinning lips. "You were the one who came to me... like a lovely irresistible succubus... who slipped into my dreams... as easily as you slipped under the covers of my bed... with skin so cool and yet so hot... sending fire through my veins with your kiss and touch. An enigma who toyed with me... only to leave me depleted... and yearning for more..."

"See! How smoothly your words flow like oozing honey... luring me... addicting me especially since my once-shrouded memories of you are now being unveiled. And although I admittedly may have been the one to first come to you... it was only because you kept 'calling' me... an achy yearning... through time and space... subtly persuasive... always persistent. And I like the bitch that I am... I was compelled to sniff... and follow your faint alluring scent... through the swirling nether fog... to find you...

"But once I found you... I fell prey to your essence... I discovered that you have the 'gift' of otherworldliness... for after sampling me thoroughly... you tracked me back to my bed when I fled... and there you continued to taste of my naïve innocence, you terrible beast... with breathtaking kisses and sizzling caresses. And then after having your ethereal way with me... you departed... and cunningly covered your tracks... concealing my memories of you... leaving only a lingering taste of you... until now."

Then without giving Amal a chance to respond, Ciara tipped-toed and grabbing his cloak, pulled his face towards hers letting her tender lips give her first kiss of love. "Ahhh, your lips, tongue, and mouth are 'so' much better in the flesh than spiritually. Hmmm... I wonder if the rest of Amal of the flesh will be better than the Amal of my dreams."

"Well, my daring little princess, we can swiftly find out if we retire to my chambers or any other place you deign..."

"Alas, Amal, we cannot! We... unfortunately... are royals and subject to the betrothal protocols between kingdoms. Also, since we have just met... in the flesh, that is... to be found in a heated tryst would be scandalous and cause a diplomatic uproar.

"My uncle, the King, would have you castrated for seducing his sweet chaste... yes, I am... well, at least in the flesh... grandniece and his Princess Royal. Your father, the Sultan, would have a royal heart attack... that his precious son... was victimized by a wanton sex-depraved princess of the dastardly North. Our coupling... no matter how consensual... would result in war and strife for generations to come... an upheaval of the known world..."

"God's bones, Ciara, you sure know how to drench the burning fires of lustful desire with the cold waters of stark reality. I regretfully yield... sigh... to preserving your long-held virginity for the sake of world peace." Then after a long pause of thoughtfulness, Amal smirked mischievously and murmured, "But what about letting me ravage the rest of you in the meanwhile?"

Gasping in faux horror, Ciara swatted Amal playfully before chirping, "Just play to my lewd and lascivious side of being a hidden wanton bitch-witch. Enough temptation, you royal scoundrel who is probably used to having his way with the ladies and wenches.

"The custom in my land, especially for royals, is not to wed until eighteen years of age... which I am... and that is only after a reasonable betrothal period after the posting of the banns... although among the women in my lineage that engagement period seems to be overlooked when in the arms of their lovers."

"Sigh! Just as in my dreams, I must be content with fleeting dream-like promise... and the rage hardness of my loins..."

"Well,... perhaps we should seek a more secluded spot," whispered a suddenly meek Ciara. "Where we might learn about each other... and 'explore' how we might better satisfy each other... in the future, of course... if you know what I mean, Prince Amal."

,

"You, Princess Roya Ciara, are truly a wicked succubus in the flesh..."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

In the ensuing chaos, diplomatic couriers rode between the monarch of the North and his counterpart in the West. Upon learning of Amal's commitment to the Princess Royal of the North, Sultan Omar reportedly flew into a fit of rage. Despite his ill will towards his second son, Omar suspected that his son had been a victim of a shameless royal slut who prey on a young man's heart.

When he discovered that his son's supposed intended came from the infamous bitch-witch blood and was the youngest so-called Red Demon Goddess, Sultan Omar immediately suspected sorcery. But the more he pondered, the more suspicious the Sultan became of possible nefarious political plotting against him.

King Godfrey was no less imaginative. His spymaster informed him that Prince Amal was the second son of Sultan Oman, and renowned as the "Black Devil" who was feared by the outlying and often rebellious desert tribes from the edge of the known world. The prince was a feared warrior with his unique two-bladed style of combat, and on horseback, no one could best his light spear. The spymaster went on to report the numerous rumors of Prince Amal's sexual escapades with a harem of exotic beauties in his lavish princely palace.

"So, is what I hear of your 'harem' true?" hissed a visibly upset Ciara whose hazel eyes flared with barely suppressed rage as she confronted a surprised Amal. "Do you have a bevy of shameless sluts at your beckoned call? Am I to be just another added to your collection of loose and wanton trallops?"

Amal knew that the calm expression on his face infuriated Ciara, but to argue or deny would have been worse. After letting her vent her rage and enduring her not-too-subtle threats, he then said, "I remind you, Ciara, that we have just met... and are not even formally engaged. For you to demand answers... no less... is a bit unreasonable... do you not think?

"However, for the sake of our future happiness together, let me say that, unlike other kingdoms, my land and its culture have no ban against a royal marrying a foreigner... or having more than one wife... or having consorts, concubines, or even sex-slaves. It is, however, a common practice in my land to have one wife... and relegate the others as consorts if they are of noble birth and have value to the nation... or as concubines who serve at their master's pleasure... or as sex-slave who... well... you know..."

Amal could see by Ciara's reddened face and her tight grip on the hilt of her long knife that she was barely able to contain her growing rage, and quickly added, "But no. I keep no wife, consort, concubine, or even sex slave contrary to the rumors passed to you by your spymaster. How can I? I am either off in the desert suppressing some rebellion or being plagued by a certain winsome seductress who visits my dreams. How can I want for another when a certain raven-hair beauty has captured my heart and soul?"

"Oooh, you are so glib. I had best watch myself when you sweet-talk me to allay my anger. Hmmph, but be warned, Amal. Once we wed, I will not tolerate another woman regardless of what your culture permits or their social standing, or the needs of the nation. I will remind you that my long knife can easily turn a proud stallion into a miserable gelding especially when the beast is sound asleep, if you know what I mean.

"Now with that made clear... it is, is it not, Amal... why do the desert rebels call you the Black Devil? Is there more to your reputation other than the color of your armor? I think I have a need to know before bonding with you in marriage... well... physically that is."

"The 'black' as you surmised is largely due to my armor's color... but also to the 'darkness' consumes me when I am fighting... showing no mercy to those foolish enough to oppose me. The rebels believe I am some sort of dark sorcerer... using forbidden means to appear before them to bring death and destruction. In reality, I simply heed the 'whispers' that tell me what is about to happen... and show up when least expected.

"I am the second prince... son of a desert tribe consort... and second in line for my father's throne if my older brother is unable to father a child... which given his sexual preference for pretty young men is very unlikely. As I grew up, my father feared that my mother's tainted blood would cause me to one day rise up and claim the throne by force.

"So, he stirred up unrest... sent me out to quell uprisings ... and hoped that I might be slain while doing so. He sent me to the North... to this gala... because he distrusts King Godfrey and hoped that your granduncle will do to me what the rebels failed to do."

"And what of your...'gift,' asked Ciara.

..

"Ha! Gift? My mother was... what the West calls those of her kind... a witch of the Sands... who possessed 'second sight'... the ability to see things that others could not... spirits... entities... but more importantly things to come.

"These 'abilities' were passed to me... and at first, I thought of them as a curse. However, I came to listen to and trust the 'voices'... and I was 'protected' when my father sought to arrange my... ah, accidental demise... on numerous occasions.

"Having answered your inquiries about me, tell me why you and yours are referred to as the Red Demon Goddesses? I mean besides the color of your armor..."

"My grandmother is the daughter of the Supreme Empress of the East and was raised in the woman-warrior way. When she fights, she is consumed with a 'battle lust' to the dismay of their enemies. The same thing happens to my mother... and while I have yet to engage in warfare, I have been trained and my battle instincts are strong. I have no doubt that I will distinguish myself in combat as my mother and grandmother did.

"And speaking of blood traits, know that my grandmother chose to forego marrying King Godfrey, electing instead to elope with his brother, Prince Duncan. Instead of being married off, my mother chose to seduce her longtime sparring partner and childhood friend, the son of the castle's Master-at-Arms, and conceived me.

"From the moment I 'sensed' your presence, I knew that I had to take our ethereal relationship into a fleshy one once I came of age. Since I am of age but unable to do what my heart and loins desire, shall I visit your dreams tonight or will you visit mine?"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

At the center of the bridge that spanned the river dividing the kingdoms of the North and West, the banns of royal betrothal were read before the assembled delegations headed by King Godfrey of the North and Omar, Sultan of the West and all beyond. The ambassadors to the two nations simultaneously read aloud a negotiated statement.

"Hear ye, one and all, it is agreed by the royal majesties of the North and West that, Ciara, Princess Royal of the North and of the South and East, having reached eighteen years of age, shall marry Amal, Prince of the West, within one lunar year after the posting of these banns. Furthermore, let it be known that any children born out of this union shall be a royal of the four kingdoms with all rights and privileges. So let this blood bond be done."

King Godfrey had at last achieved his long-time goal of establishing a world empire by the bloodlines. Yet, when looking upon the dreaded Black Devil of the West, he began to have doubts as to turning his virgin grandniece to the clutches of such a renowned rogue.

"But then again," though Godfrey, "the unpredictable Ciara had her damn enchanted long knife and if mistreated or slighted in any way might... maybe... until they were finally married, I had best strength the border forces guarding his side of the river... just in case.

For Sultan Omar, the sight of his future daughter-in-law dressing in red battle armor and armed with a saber and long knife on her hips, with a short bow with a quiver of arrows strapped to her back, was unsettling, to say the least.

The Sultan was accustomed to submissive gentle and soft women whose sole purpose in life was the indulgence of his lust and to be the receptacle of his seed and the mother of his children. A woman bearing arms... and from the infamous bloodline of the Red Demon Goddesses... was beyond his comprehension and definitely not to his liking.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The full moon had risen in the night sky when the hull of a small rowboat beached itself on the sandy shore of an island set in the middle of the river separating the North and West kingdoms -- neutral territory. The two occupants quickly disembarked and after hauling the boat into the nearby tree line, searched as they made their way inland to ensure they were alone.

Reaching a wooded horseshoe-shaped knoll in the island center, one quickly pitched a small lean-to that faced the knoll's downstream opening. That individual then retrieved their supplies and bedding from the boat and began setting up their shelter.

The other individual gathered firewood to create a campfire and two wooden screens that would prevent the fire light from being seen from either riverbank. A small pot of water was placed next to the fire to warm. As the larger one who had just hung over the flames a covered pot of meat and vegetable, the smaller of the two slipped behind and hugged him. At her embrace, he turned his head to look over his shoulder and a sizzling kiss paralyzed him while at the same time setting his body and very soul on fire.

"Come, my beloved," purred Ciara seductively. "It is time that we experience in the flesh what we have done ethereally," she murmured as she rubbed and then molded her petite lithe body against his muscular mass. "However, before we may do so, it is the way of a woman of the East to cleanse her intended... for men are often filthy pigs obsessed with rutting but not with bathing..."

"On the contrary, my impertinent little one, we men of the desert bathe as often as we can... for water and to drench oneself in it... is a luxury not to passed up... next to that of a lovely and willing maiden," Amal said as his kisses and caresses made Ciara moan loudly.

"Ooh, you are still the same evil corruptor of innocent damsels who ensnared me in my dreams with your sweet words and 'other' attributes," smirked Ciara as she deftly disengaged from the tempting embrace of Amal. "Hurry," she said, standing up and then apart of her lover, "Let us disrobe and wash quickly but thoroughly before you tempt me into breaking a long-held tradition."

In the flickering glow of the campfire, Amal watched as his petite princess quickly untied her leather shirt, and peeling it off, revealed a fine-linen red "dudou" or short-rhombus apron-like undergarment that was fastened by two cords around her neck and held in place by another set of waist-cords tied behind her.

Two eye-catching bumps protruded from the thin material that was intended to protect her obviously large nipple from chafing but not from physical stimulation or erotic anticipation.

"Aiyeeh! Freed from the confines of her armor and protective padding, Ciara's breasts are larger than I had imagined," gasped Amal as his love interest's full but not overly large breasts were casually revealed. "See how her creamy globes jiggle tantalizingly as she kicks off her ankle boots before shimming out of her undone leather breeches to reveal a simple linen loincloth.

"By all that is holy," gulped Amal to himself as Ciara with three sharp tugs undid the ties of her undergarments, letting the linen pool around her ankles to reveal her enchanting nudity. "Behold a fire-born spirit of the desert... enticingly slender, well-shaped, graceful like the wind, and beautiful beyond belief," thought an awestruck Amal as the flickering fire light danced off Ciara's nakedness.

"Oh, Amal, pray for protection for before you stands the Red Demon Goddess feared by the ice men... the embodiment of lust, sexuality, and danger. God of Storms above have pity on and safeguard this poor mortal's soul..."

A petrified Amal stood rooted to his spot as a nude diminutive jinnee sauntered towards him and then easily disrobed him with her entrancing eyes blazing with passion. "Oh my!" exclaimed Ciara in delight as Amal's freed fleshy scimitar word sprung forth at the ready, swaying menacingly with curved length, thickness, and hardness. "Ooh, it is much bigger than I remember from my dreams... make haste, you silly bitch Ciara... wash it quickly but thoroughly to prepare him."

Then looking up at a stunned Amal, Ciara murmured reassuringly, "Do not fret about the coldness of the river for I promise you that once we return to this fire, I have ways to set it and you afire in the furnace between my legs." With a quick but firm grasp of his rigid manhood, Ciara led a dazed Amal by his pulsating meaty leash to the river.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The chill of the river and the night air was instantly dispelled when Ciara's sizzling lips latched onto, sucked, and then inhaled Amal's rigid manhood. Her molten mouth repeatedly slid up and down his manly shaft as his flange spearhead repeatedly thrust into the inferno of Ciara's gulping mouth and throat.

"Oooh, you are a lot... well... stunning than I remember in my dreams," mumbled Ciara as she released Amal's pulsating cock too urgently to breathe. "Definitely! And taste so delish.., so smooth... surprisingly hairless... and with no foreskin sheathe like my father's..."

"It is the custom of the West, little one, for men and women to be shorn of hair around their sexes... for coolness... hygiene... and pleasing appearance... as in the fashion of the women of the East... for I see that you are equally as bare and smooth. Yet, explain how you know of your father's... ahhh... manly attributes..."

When the pretty pixie saw the look of concern on her lover's handsome face, she kissed him before mumbling, "It is the way... of women of my blood to...'observe'... their parents engaging in acts of intimacy. My father thought I was asleep... but... my mother knew I was not... and made it a point to show me... educate me from the time I was but a child... as to how women of the East pleasure their man... and themselves.

"Of course, I did not expect to be 'lured' into wandering the nether world... seeking the source of subtle but persistent calls for years... and upon finding it... or rather him... to be ensnared in a web of sweet talk that disguised and led to intoxicating debauchery... by an immoral devil who preyed on the pure and naive," whined Ciara with false childish pretense while languorously licking and mouthing Amal's flanged cockhead.

"Ha!" barked Amal as he sought to offer a denial. "As I recall, it was a certain little succubus who came to me... slipped into my bed... shamelessly rubbed her sinful nakedness against mine... inflaming my desire and loins... and then after depriving me of the will to resist... shamefully had her way with me... by forcing me... yes, you did... to commit unspeakable and depraved sexual acts... after which you left me completely drained and utterly exhausted..."

"Not! It was I who would awake in my disheveled bed... alone... naked... drenched in sweat... with bedding soaked with my sexual emissions... and my three orifices... yes, all three... aching from have been ethereally brutalized... and with only fragmented memories of my night's ordeal. Long have I waited... endured... to finally find you... and I intend to..."

"No more than I, my little pretty," sighed Amal as he twisted around on their ground bedding to spoon his petite lover, his manly spear thrust between her shapely legs to protrude noticeably between her hairless feminine camel-toe. 'I now have you... in the flesh," he mumbled as his tongue and lips on her ear, nape, and shoulders sent erotic jolts raging through her. "Since the chastity of your loving mouth has already been broken... I am going to take great pleasure in storming and breaching the untouched gates of your womanhood."

"See! Now you reveal the despicable monster that conquered sweet little me," was Ciara's faux protest as she pulled Amal's arms under hers, pressing his palms against her spongy bosom while suggestively twitching her firm buttocks against his groin. "If someone was to repeatedly plow my very slippery furrow, I am sure that taking of my small pure orifice will be... easier... and much more enjoyable."

With that said Ciara pumped her hips back and forth while one of her petite hands covered and pressed Amal's meaty sausage between her parted puffy pussy lips. The lewd sloshing sounds of her sopping wet cunt generously coating his manhood mingled with her soft moans as his dickhead nudged and polished her stiff love nub.

Amal's fingers scissored the obscenely large nipples that jutted achingly from the tips of Ciara's pointy breasts. The twinges of pain that radiated from her tormented fleshy teats quickly morphed into spasms of titillating bliss as Amal cruelly pinched, twisted, and pulled until her small tits were sharp and pointy peaks.

"Take me, you sadistic bastard!" cried Ciara as she leaned forward to press her sex against his. "Do not torment me any.... oh, my Goddess!" screamed Ciara, her cries shredding the still night air as a meaty battering ram... a very large one... tore her fragile and long-held maidenhead... savagely impaled her.

Ciara whined pitifully as her incredible tightness was cruelly stretched ... and Amal's one-eyed snake plunged into the unexplored depths of her newfound womanhood. This was no tender deflowering of her dreams... no... this was stark reality... animalistic rutting... swift... unrestrained... painful.

Instinctively, Ciara sought to withdraw from the source of her agony. But when she managed to roll to her knees, Amal grasped her wrists and firmly pulled back her arms to him. Ciara soon found herself hopelessly kneeling and bent over with her slender torso suspended by her pulled-back arms. With each thrust of his hips, Amal's loins slapped sharply against her reddening buttocks, causing her dangling titties to violently flop back and forth as breathless whimpers escaped her drawn lips.

Just when Ciara was about to faint from the intensity of agony that sought to overwhelm her, her hidden memories of Amal were revealed. What was happening was not contrary to her dream encounters with Amal. No, their nether world trysts were often... hot... swift... surprising... violent... often painful... but above all, strangely exhilarating. With this shocking revelation, Ciara's agony became ecstasy... and her weak submissiveness became lusty dominance.

"Fuck me, you son of a desert witch-bitch! Give it to me... like I want... need... crave! Do it!" Ciara demanded as she began to assume control over what was and would happen... as was in the past. "Spew your discharge into my bleeding cunt and bless it properly! For the love of the Goddess of Heaven and Earth, do it!"

Ciara's hairless quim was immediately pummeled by Amal's raging hard-on... fast, hard, and repeatedly. Lewd sloshing and slurping noises of her churning liquid excitement were accompanied by the sharp clapping of his clean-shaven groin against her exposed hairless sex. Amal could feel his bullocks excruciatingly tighten and from her breathless grunts and gasps, he knew they were rapidly approaching the erotic release that they both desired.

His dickhead repeatedly bumped against Ciara's cervix, causing her to whimper... however, he could not tell if it was stinging pain or perverted pleasure. But such thoughts were instantly dispelled when Ciara groaned, "Oh, yes, oh, yes! You are the one, Amal, for whom I have waited. I have found the missing piece of my destiny which now can be fulfilled. The moment is ripe, my love. My body is ripe. I need... no, want... your seed... sown in my fertile womb! Do it,... do it now! Amal! Do not hold back... do it!"

Ciara threw her head back as her back sharply arched and her petite slender form shook uncontrollably. "Oh, Goddess of Heaven and Earth... cannot breathe... I am afire... consumed by the raging blaze of my damn womb! Fuck me, Amal! Fuck me like the lowly wanton fuck-slut that I am... yours! I crave you manly discharge! Fill me you're your issue... flood me until I overflow! Oh, please, Amal... do it! Now! I am going to... arrghh... arrrghhh!"

That was all that Amal could take. His pistoning hips jackhammered his fleshy manhood between Ciara's widespread thighs. "Lewd jinnee... desert spirit of fire... tormenter of my dreams... drainer of my loins... I am going to..." Amal gutturally grunted as he mindlessly plunged into Ciara as far as he could, feeling his very guts and soul spew into her convulsing womanly depths. Then spent, he collapsed limply and sprawled in sexual oblivion, crushing Ciara underneath him.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Do you know, Abdul, my trusted head eunuch, that I am leery that my bastard of a second son... a pox on him... for tricking me into letting him be my delegate to that impotent King of the North? Yes, and here I was hoping that Godfrey, that poor excuse for his sod of a father... may he burn in hell... would take Amal off my hands by conveniently... ensuring that an accident... a fatal one... would befall that cursed spawn of my desert witch consort.

"How I rue the day I accepted Jazmine, Amal's mother, as my consort. If it was not for her bewitching beauty... whorish willingness... and accursed skills of the flesh... I would have never bedded her. Yes, yes, I know that Jazmine was a desert rose... but one full of thorns... the biggest one being my ill-begotten second son! Was I... glad... when she met with an unfortunate accident... fatal of course... while her son was suppressing her own people. Ah, such is the unforeseen ironies of life. Too bad, Amal did not meet a similar fate.

"So, what does that son-of-a-bitch-witch do? Amal connived to meet and become engaged to Ciara, Godfrey's grandniece and princess royal... second in line to the bugger's throne! And on top of that, she is a princess of the South... and can you believe it, a princess of the East! Remind me to have my spymaster beheaded for not informing me of her... and her royal lineage! And more so, how and why and how Amal finagled his way to meet with and woo her.

"And how does my future daughter-in-law greet me, Sultan of the West and all that is beyond? This Ciara meets me in full red battle gear... armed with a saber, long knife, bow, and full quiver! What is this little cunt called by those in the North's frontier? Ah, yes, Abdul... the Red Demon Goddess! Ha! And from what is whispered, she is the worst of a long line of bitch-witches. That little princess is reportedly able to see, converse with, and command spirits... and engages in forbidden sorcery. Why do such demonic whores always plague me, Abdul?

"The more I think about it, the more I am convinced this is a plot to overthrow me and my heir, Omar, the Second, who is weak with abnormal sexual preferences. Given Ciara's royal lineage, Amal's impending marriage to this sorcerous whore would strengthen his claim to my crown. He would be encouraged by his wife's three kingdoms' bloodline and supported for a coup... if not now, then when he and that foreign she-devil produce a spawn who will have a claim to all... that is right, Abdul...'all' four kingdoms by blood! Oh, Abdul, what am I to do?"

"Hmmm," whispered Abdul so as not to be overhead by hidden ears, "I know we have sought to have Prince Amal 'fall in battle' while putting down the insurrections of the scattered tribes of the outlying regions. However, instead of... tragically passing... Prince Amal has thwarted our attempts... and managed to earn through military prowess and victories his moniker of the Black Devil.

"Still," Abdul murmured into Omar's attentive ear, "I hear tell of a new false prophet has risen from the Sands... one who has rallied the desert tribes through force of arms or use of black magic. Perhaps, Your Majesty, you might wish to consider fighting fire with fire in hopes that they cancel each other out.

"I mean if Amal were to show his intended the outlying regions that are always ripe for rebellion... I am sure that sooner or later, they will encounter the false prophet and his desert army... and shall we say... meet with a tragic ending. Ah, such a fitting wedding gift.

"This might be ensured if we were to persuade Amal to tour the wild lands with only a small personal guard... consisting of specially trained men loyal to you. If word of the prince's travels were to be leaked... Amal and this prophet might slay each other... if not, our men would 'ensure' to... ahh... kill two birds... or shall we include the foreign bitch and make it three... with one stone. What do you think, your majesty?"

"Ah, Abdul, what would I do without you? You are wise as you are devious. I leave it to your discretion to make what you proposed to happen. And as a reward for your sage advice and discreteness... hmmm, I have been told that although you have been separated from your bollocks, you still 'retain' an appetite for young pretty innocents. Why do you not cull out one or two untouched beauties from my harem for your own personal sadistic pleasure? My gift to you, my trusted accomplice."

"Blessings be upon you, oh great Sultan of the West and all beyond, for your boundless generosity. Your humble and grateful servant shall do as you bid."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Ciara couldn't believe her ears as she deliriously begged to be taken. How she screamed when Amal like a stud bull mounting a prize heifer, rammed into her spasming quim mercilessly stretching and penetrating. When he finally plunged his full length deep between her splayed legs, Ciara thought his cock would pop out of her mouth at any moment.

Although she felt utterly used and dirty, Ciara also felt so wickedly alive. "Goddess! What more can a nasty wench like me ask for?" She quickly learned her mistake in questioning a deity as a finger was wormed into her brown puckered behind, pushing her to the brink of unexplored dimensions of erotic perversion.

"You're my lewd little sex-slave, are you not?" chuckled Amal as he squeezed another finger and joined the other one reaming her previously unexplored hole, delighting how her once-clenched hole spread to accommodate her penetrating fingers. Ciara should have screamed for him to stop but instead found herself gulping desperately for air before mumbling vague obscenities and pleading for more.

As if to grant her wish, Amal almost withdrew his manly scimitar from her slippery fleshy sheath only to plunge it back in again... and again. Ciara bucked wildly, losing the last vestige of self-control she might have had as she was repeatedly penetrated to her very core. By the time Amal cried out and forcefully drove into her, erupting in a molten sperm flood, Ciara had long toppled over the edge into pure sexual stupor.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"And to think," Amal mused to Ciara, "The sun has not even reached its zenith in the sky, and I am enjoying such morning bodily delights of my little jinnee. Ha! Given that we have yet to leave our tent, that ten-man contingent sent by my loving Sultan to guard us must think that despite my rumored reputation, I am nothing but a lazy sexually deviant wastrel... and you, my dear, are nothing but an easy lust-filled camp follower despite your royal titles."

'Beloved, I know you told me to be wary of the enemy out there among the dunes," Ciara murmured as she casually indicated the rolling dunes outside of their tent. "However, there are enemies within... and I mean those warriors that joined to be your personal guard... supposedly as replacements to your longest serving veterans.

"There is something 'amiss' about this group of ten. They watch you in a predatory way... that does not speak of protecting you... their aura is one of malice... aimed at us. I lightly traipsed through their dreams and now know they are disguised assassins, and we are their intended victims. They are just waiting for the right time and place... when they can kill us... but make it look not like an assassination.

"I agree," confided Amal. "But we cannot outright kill them for that would give my loving father reason to 'discipline' me... in an extremely unfavorable way. No, we must wait until the right reason, moment, and place.""

"Ooh, I cannot wait and finally test my battle skill that I have trained for years," grinned an eager Ciara. "Let them scoff at us and take us lightly... that will be their downfall."

"Oh, I love my truly devious and vicious princess. But before we continue our façade, why do we not take a well-deserved nap? Repeatedly ravaging a certain sexually demanding wench has proven utterly exhausting, and I have the need to replenish my depleted jism. When we are refreshed, we can then plan on how the mice will devour the cats."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When Ciara opened her sleepy eyes, it was night. She saw Amal looking over a large map of the region, deep in concentration. However, when she weakly called to him, her prince turned and strode to her, dropping his robe along the way to reveal his nakedness... and state of 'reinvigoration.'

Within moments, Amal's lean but muscular body lay between her parted legs, replacing the cast-aside bedding. "Aah, you finally wake, my sleeping beauty, ravishing as ever," he hungrily growled after kissing Ciara while his rigid cock parted her still-oozing feminine cleft in the valley of her soft inner thighs. "Your alluring body does call irresistibly to me and I must..."

"Wait, Amal! Hold your beastly desires in check. I must first ask you about the desert tribes that we might face... and this prophet that has united them."

While initially taken aback at his lover's requests, Amal went on to say, "The desert tribes are People of the Sands... and my mother's people. They are nomadic... wandering from oasis to oasis... camps of tents... herds of goats and horses. They consider themselves to be free people... to do what they wish... even warring with each other... and chafe under any form of control... especially that of my father.

"My mother was the only daughter of a major tribal sheik who was both a headsman and holy man. She was an attempt to forge a peace between the tribes and the Sultan of the West." Amal's handsome face then darkened, "But, while I was away on campaign... she died... mysteriously... which resulted in the tribes crying oath-breaking and betrayal on the part of the Sultan and then rebelling.

'While at first, I fought fiercely against them to put down their desperate uprisings, I found doing so distasteful and disheartening. As time went on, my reluctance and doubts grew when I began to question my mother's suspicious passing.

"I then realized that the ruthless oppression, exploitation, and murder at his father's orders were deliberate provocation of the tribes by my father and his attempts to put me in harm's way. It was little wonder that the prophet named Assad rose up and united the People of the Sands.

"I have met Assad," whispered Ciara unexpectedly, "... in the land of dreams. He has the gift of second sight as you... called to me as you did... and seemly expected me. Surprisingly, he leads the People of the Sands in the hope of peace and the freedom to live as they have for many generations. He would like to meet you and me at the oasis where he is camped with his gathered people two-days travel from here to discuss how this may be accomplished."

When Amal hesitated in shock at what she had shared and proposed, Ciara said, "Fear not, beloved, I do not sense any deceit from Assad... only an honest desire for peace and hope for the future. I will be there with you to add to your strength and to safeguard you."

Seeing Amal mulling over the insights that she had just shared, Ciara murmured seductively, "If you agree to rendezvous with Assad and hear what he has to say, you may have your way with me as a reward, you perverted Prince of the West. Hmmph!"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Amal," Ciara said under her breath, "The thoughts of your father's 'bodyguards are so loud... practically shouting. They see a golden opportunity when we meet Assad. They intend to stay back until we meet the prophet, and then they will charge and slaughter the three of us... achieving your father's goal in one fell swoop... blame it on the tribes... and perpetuating the tribal uprisings and ultimate annihilation."

"Yes, it is as I suspected. Those ten would not heed my orders to stay in camp... insisting that they were following my father's command to 'protect' me. As you say, they are just waiting for the right moment. It is good that you are fully armed and armored like me for together we shall..."

"No, beloved! Do not argue because time is short. It is I who must engage in combat as many of the ten as possible since I am not subject to your father's rule. If he were to punish or harm me, he would incur the wrath of the other kingdoms. You must at all costs protect Assad against whoever evades me. The tribes must see the dread Black Devil fighting in defense of their prophet. I do not know exactly why... but that is critical!"

As predicted, as soon as Amal and Ciara met Assad who stood apart from his massed people, a cry from behind them was heard, "Surrender! We have orders from the Sultan to kill the false prophet... as well as you, you filthy son-of-a-desert-witch... and your foreign cunt!

"Surrender now... and your death will be swift. However, your royal strumpet will not suffer such a fate and beg for death after we passed her around and she has taken our cocks, singularly or together, in all her holes... heh heh heh. No? Then prepare to die!"

Then in a truly heavy calvary manner, the so-called bodyguards cantered forward in a line and made a show of lowering their spears, expecting the royals to quail in fear and flee, abandoning the defenseless prophet. However, in their arrogance, they failed to realize that they were not charging desert tribesmen who were on foot, ill-trained, and poorly armed.

This error in judgment became apparent when an eerie foreign war cry rose above the thudding of their horses' hooves. An arrow instantly sprouted from the left eye of their leader who jerked violently back, toppling from his steed in the center of the line.

Surrendering to exhilarating battle lust, Ciara charged forward, standing up on her stirrups with her next arrow notched in her drawn bow. The group's lieutenant who had ridden next to the toppled leader had the wherewithal to recover quickly from his leader's demise and spurred his horse towards the galloping Ciara. However, three arrows in rapid succession thudded into and through his lamellar armor, fatally piercing his heart and killing him.

With unnerving and unpredictable audacity, Ciara spurred her horse through the break in the center of the line with her short bow twanging repeatedly as she twisted from side to side. Her arrows were shot with deadly accuracy as she passed through... not at the riders... but at their mounts. Four horses were killed or severely disabled... throwing or crushing their riders. When Ciara turned around her steed, two riders converged on her while the remaining two broke off to speed towards Amal and the prophet.

The first of her attackers jerked his spear up to block her arrow when he saw Ciara suddenly raise her bow in his direction. However, by the time he realized that she had no more arrows, the fierce she-devil had drawn her saber and was upon him. Screaming her war cry, Ciara crashed into his steed, cutting his spearhead off, and in the backhand stroke, sliced deeply into his neck.

As blood spurted into the air and over Ciara, the youngest Red Demon Goddess spun her horse around and dropped low to dodge the remaining opponent's thrown spear. Without looking, Ciara threw her bow to block the heavy slash of her opponent's scimitar, causing her foe to blink at the ruse. A moment later Ciara's slashing saber slashed across and split his exposed face, killing him instantly.

Spinning her horse around, Ciara raced back to Amal but not before cruelly running down and dispatching the riders who she had dismounted with savage downward slices. By the time Ciara reached Amal, she found one would-be assassin mortally wounded and bleeding out on the sands, and her saber quickly ended his misery.

With his two short swords a twirling blur, Amal blocked repeated spear thrusts of his confounded mounted assailant. Letting out a shriek of outrage, Ciara distracted her lover's opponent long enough for Amal to leap from his mount to deliver two fatal blows that slew the last of their attackers.

However, when Amal clutched Ciara in exuberant relief and joy, he instantly knew that something was amiss. Gone was the petite sexy beauty who captured his heart and throbbing cock first in the nether world and then in the reality of flesh, sweat, and palpable lust. In his arms was the horrendous...'being'... who consumed with battle rage had moved with incredible speed, agility, and malice. Singlehandedly and with mindboggling ease, Ciara slew eight of their ten assailants and would have killed the remaining two if he had not.

Amal could see in her blazing hazel eyes that Ciara struggled to rein in her killing frenzy. Her exuded malevolent aura left him, Assad the Prophet, and the gathered People of the Sands awestruck and quaking in fear. Bounded by a struggling Amal's arms, a nightmare of terror on two legs shook violently and spat foreign curses at those slain while frantically casting wary glances about for the next person to kill.

Seeing Amal struggling to restrain Ciara, Assad quickly hustled them away from his people and to the nearest vacant tent. Once the tent flap was closed for privacy, Amal knew that soft kisses, soothing caresses, and gentle words would not be enough to calm an agitated Ciara down. He instinctively knew he had to find a way to take control, jolt her, and release her pent-up energy. It was then that Amal recalled Ciara's promise that was made when she suggested meeting with the prophet at the oasis.

Somehow, Amal managed to strip Ciara and himself of armor and undergarments until they stood in their sweaty nakedness. Finding water jugs nearby, he doused his agitated lover to shock her overheated body, quenching her sweaty skin and washing away the blood splatter. After swiftly rinsing himself while holding on to Ciara, Amal took charge of his petite lover, wrestling her bucking form to the tent carpeting.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Oh, Goddess, you are so damn big, you thrice-damned perverted bastard! Just force me down on all fours... spread my bum cheeks... hawk and spit... and then mount and enter my arse without warning or preparation! Ohhh, fuck!

"This is much... different... than when you first buggered my ethereal anal virginity... you filthy sod of a beast. You are now... cruelly penetrating my tiny rear tightness... tearing me apart... filling me up! Fuck, oh fuck... your manly spear has penetrated so damn deep between my buns... stabbing into my very guts!"

Amal took his time to savor the hottest and snuggest arse that he had ever had. He loved how her once clenched hole now was obscenely stretched around the girth of his thick dick as he slowly pumped it back and forth. He felt Ciara shuddering with each cock stroke that stoked the raging furnace of her innards which slowly give way to his bulbous dickhead. as she shook and twisted uncontrollably.

Whining pitifully, Ciara enticingly wiggled and squirmed her buns, pushing back forcefully to meet his thrusts. As her telltale sexual excitement flowed from her unoccupied cunt to dribble her thighs, she begged for more. "Oh just fuck my arse like the wanton harlot that I am... who always want to please the perverse... and I do mean grossly sick... urges of my lover! Oooh, yes, just like that, Amal... faster... harder!"

Amal complied with rutting strokes that lifted and tossed his lover's tiny slender body, causing her to cry out, "My guts are so tight because of your big fat cock... it hurts but feels so damn good... cannot breathe... or think! Oh, my goddess, I am going to... yes... cannot stop... I am... arrrgh... arrrgh... arrrgh!"

"I am cumming too... you lewd succubus! Arrgh... arrgh... filling your small arse... flooding it... with the jism of my bollocks... arrgh!" cried Amal as his muscular body smashed and buried Ciara, lifting her with each upward thrust. "Arrrgh!" he grunted gutturally. Feeling his very life force spew endlessly between Ciara's redden buns, Amal then collapsed in total exhaustion on his now favorite bedding, his sweaty limp tiny lover.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Ciara opened her weary eyes at the tent flap being opened, then closed, and followed by soft footsteps. There stood Amal, fully clothed, looking rested yet disturbed. "Hmmm, what my beloved... you sadistic pervert who has finally devastated all of me? You should be pleased in sating your filthy anal conquest... my poor once tight little arse is now stretched out... and oozing with your copious discharge. Why do you look so... brooding?"

Sliding next to her, Amal sat a naked Ciara up, and after a long sensuous kiss muttered, "I have just come from a meeting with Assad and the tribal leaders. They were in total awe that the Black Devil and his betrothed, the whispered Red Demon Goddess, defied the Sultan to defend their prophet and the People of the Sands. The battle they witnessed was brief but utterly violent beyond belief. The demise of the dreaded assassins of the Sultan's Claw was viewed by many as a clear miracle sent by the God of Storms.

"After listening to their concerns and grievances. I spoke openly of my... estranged... relationship with my father. I shared my regret for fighting against them and begged for their forgiveness for my misguided filial loyalty... not knowing that my father's ordered campaigns against the tribes were his attempts to take my life. I confirmed that I turned against him when I learned of his role in my mother's death."

Then with a worried expression, Amal shared, "To my shock, I discovered that my mother, Jazmine... was Assad's older sister. It seems that the gift of second sight runs in our family.

"However, my... uncle... was surprised when he 'met' you in the nether world for you possess otherworldly abilities greater than any he has ever known as evidenced by your brilliant aura. Assad asserted that the 'talents'... combat and psychically... of myself and especially you, bring to the People of the Sands hope and strengths never known before."

"So, why are you bothered, my beloved," whispered Ciara as she snuggled her nude lithe body against and comforted her dark lover.

With a slow sigh, Amal murmured, "It has become clear that after slaying my father's assassins... even in self-defense... we will be branded traitors to the Kingdom of the West. The leaders of the People of the Sands with the encouragement of my uncle, have beseeched me... with you at my side... to lead them in their quest for freedom from my father's tyranny,

"But I hesitate to do so," whispered Amal regretfully. "I had hoped to give you a palace and riches when we wed... I now can only offer you a tent and the rolling sea of sand... as we seek to evade the Sultan's wrath..."

"You are wrong, Amal, for you offer me much more than a tent and sand," Ciara whispered suggestively as her petite hand dropped to his lap, her fingers finding and caressing her stirring manhood. "But before you become distracted and twistedly amorous... and seeking to revisit your latest conquest... do you know how painful it is to sit upon the orifice that you brutally violated, you perverted devil... instead of fleeing, why do we not take the fight to your father?"

"He will send the might of his military against us... and I will be forced to fight against commanders who I call friends and comrades at arms... troops who I led into combat against the very nomadic people... rebels... whom I would soon lead..."

"Amal... what are the sentiments of these military leaders that you speak of... do they blindly obey the Sultan's orders... and have no regret in doing so?"

"No. For the most part, they are like me in detesting the slaughter of those striving to free themselves from the yoke of oppression. They did what they did... not because of duty to the Sultan or my older foppish weakling of a brother both of whom many despise... nor for personal glory or gain... rather, they followed me... and my flawed desire to prove myself a filial son. What a regretful mistake!"

"Still," Ciara interjected, "You are not sure what the military of the West and especially its leaders will do when they confront you. Hmmm, Amal, what say you if I were to 'visit' said leaders... no, not to seduce them... that is reserved only for you... but to determine where their feelings about you... me... and the People of the Sands? I am sure I can 'persuade' those who are hesitant to defy the Sultan that the 'alternative' is far worse."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As it stood, five of seven Kingdom's regimental commanders readily affirmed their allegiance to Amal even if it meant joining forces with the tribes of the outlying areas. "I discovered that the ten assassins of the dread Sultan's Claw that we slew... were used to terrorize or assassinate military leaders and their families suspected of being disloyal to the Sultan. Their elimination by us was taken as a good omen to follow your lead and rebel.

"The remaining two commanders who hesitated... well... shall I say that I 'visited' them nightly... when I wasn't preoccupied by a certain insatiably horny Western prince... and showed them the glow of my enchanted long knife, and told them that its name and purpose was that of 'soul-taker,' I cautioned them that if they resisted or betrayed us... and I would know... slip into and out of their dreams... and make sure they never awoke from endless sleep. Shall I say that they acquiesced to my requests of them?"

"How I love the deviousness of my wicked little Red Demon Goddess... and bless the night that a certain lovely succubus found and seduced me... addicting me to her sinful wiles. And just to show that you have corrupted me with your sinister ways, I will send a secret missive to Abdul, the head eunuch of my father. In it, I said that the Sultan's secret enforcers have met their timely demise at our hands and that I have united the might of the Kingdom's army with the masses of the People of the Sands.

"I mentioned to Abdul that his future depends on whether the Sultan and the Crown Prince had met an unfortunate... or perhaps fortunate... demise were alive by the time we and our combined forces reach the gates of the kingdom's capital. Knowing Abdul, my father and older brother will not be there to greet us as we enter the capital gates."

"Surely, Amal, you do not plan to retain such a vile viper once you have assumed power?"

"Rest assured, beloved, that Abdul's future is not what he expects. I have learned from my uncle that it was the head eunuch who was my father's henchman responsible for ensuring my mother's death... something that the castrated bastard will come to rue a thousand-fold."

"Oooh, all this talk of scheming, threats, and death does make me very excited and drenched between my legs, Since your uncle took it upon himself to marry us, perhaps I might persuade my handsome husband to reward his well-deserving wife without me having to visit his dreams?"

"It would be my pleasure, my little wanton bitch-witch. I must now ensure that I have an heir to the throne that I am about to receive... and should undertake my marital responsibilities forthwith."

"Amal, Amal," chuckled Ciara. "Have you ever wondered how I could kill eight highly trained assassins with ease? Husband, I was...'possessed'... by another who invigorated me... guided me... controlled me... yes... our child... as I added to my mother's battle lust... and she to her mother's."

Seeing the bewildered look on Amal's face, Ciara snickered as her compelling hazel eyes glowed with amusement, "When you took my virginity of the flesh on that island in the middle of the river... and the many nights to follow... you insatiable animal... you planted so much virile seeds into my fertile cunt that I could not help but become with your child. Your uncle confirmed when I first met him in the dreamland... for he sensed that bright spark within my belly... guiding me to him.

"And before you ask, husband of mine, 'she' will be the next bitch/witch of my line... the fourth Red Demon Goddess... the fulfillment of my destiny... the claimant to blood bonds with the four Kingdoms of the East, South, North, and West. Towards the eventuality, your uncle, Assad the Prophet, has said that our daughter, who will usher in a new age... shall be called 'Soraya' which in the ancient tongue of your people means 'princess, gem, and unity.' She shall come to be all three of the possible meanings of her name. Now, hush, beloved, and make love to me while our daughter watches and learns..."