This takes place after Leon's met with the Oiym council and his new life is set to begin. I've trimmed the story down to just over 25,000 words by removing more repetition than I'd thought was in there.
This is going to be the Smashwords avatar. Oh, and this bit has a hint of gay sex in it, FYI.
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Not that I didn't try to speak with her. Our first morning en route, as the sun rose, I saw her seated in her chair, regal as ever, so had approached, saying, "You traveled with no one?"
She had not moved as she said, "I do not think my ladies in waiting would have enjoyed being part of this ensemble."
Which made sense. I doubt they would like to have seen her feed, like she had the night before.
Our sustenance had turned out to be condemned men from Cairo and Alexandria. The Oiym had a quiet arrangement with Caliph Al Afeal, which basically boiled down to, We'll take some of your prisoners and dispose of the bodies; that way you don't have to pay the executioner or undertaker. No questions, please.
I had been led into a simple room with high windows, where nine men had been chained to the walls, all well-cleaned and barely clothed. All standing. Most swarthy, strong and beefy while others were trim, and none slovenly in body. Shopping had been good in the cities' jails.
Seeing them had brought a flood of hunger washing over me, filling every pore of my being. It had been weeks since my Viking, so every bit of control I had was needed to keep me from tearing into them.
On top of this, all of them had been howling with anger and fear. They had thought they could intimidate us with their curses and scowls and fists and kicks as they yanked against their chains. All that had achieved was for couple to have their trousers fall to reveal genitals that could have been...well, acceptable.
Anileh had given an overly dramatic huff and said, "Oh, Uttah, no females, again? It seems you're falling into a rut of the same offerings over and over..."
"Hardly," she'd smiled back. "Our last gathering was eleven months ago."
"You gave me a fine murderess, who was both useful and tasty...and who thought she could cut my throat with her lengthy fingernails. It was enjoyable. The gathering before that, I had to make do with a runaway slave. He was merely adequate."
"You are always free to forage for yourself," Nethys had said, her voice on the cool side. Then she had turned to me. "The newest of our kind is allowed first choice."
I knew she had noticed I'd already locked in on a beardless man with short hair, fine shoulders, full chest and a hint of paunch to his belly. He'd had a sharp scowl of a face and had worn tight knitted breeches cut to below his knees and held in place by a cord, showing off fine legs and a rich crotch. Dark hair swirled over much of his body. The need that grew in me was for far more than just his blood.
"What was his crime?" I had asked, pointing to him.
A scroll had appeared in her hand. She'd unrolled it and read, "Murder. He was robbing a merchant's home and was caught by the man, so killed him. He claimed the man had cheated him of his wages."
"That's rather an overreaction."
"That could be said of all humans."
The rest of the ensemble had agreed.
So he and I had wound up in a finely appointed bedroom with him unchained. The one door had been bolted and the two windows both looked at a drop of perhaps two-hundred feet to jagged rocks. He could not escape me.
I had figured I was not the only one planning to have fun with his dinner before feeding; Nishu and Ninsira had taken a pair of well-endowed men who were larger than my choice, while Uttah's lad was probably the youngest and slimmest of the group. Nethys had chosen to join the male Oiym in just feeding, if the screams and cries of terror after I had left the chamber were any indication, while I did not want to know what Gabrielle had done.
I had stripped down to my leggings, my dick pressing against the cloth, showing I was very ready for more than just a meal from this man.
He'd stood in the center of the bedroom, watching me with fear and anger, asking what I think were questions in his language. I had circled him and he had turned to keep me in sight, his stance wary and filled with warning.
Then I had pounced and we'd wrestled...and the feel of his body next to mine had sent fire exploding through me. He had gripped me around the torso, thinking to throw me, but instead we'd wound up rolling across the floor.
After some twisting and turning and kicking and fighting, I had grabbed him from behind, my arms around him, my wrists crossed, and I had pinched his tits as I licked the back of his neck.
He had howled and struggled more, then we had rolled apart. He'd staggered to his feet, his eyes wide and wary, as I circled him, again...and pounced...and grabbed him around the waist to lift him up...and licked and kissed his tits, this time.
He had pushed against me, kicking and struggling, and I had grown lost in the glorious feeling of his body crushed next to mine, twisting and turning and pressing even harder against me. I had heard the pounding of his heart. His howls of anger and disgust had only made my emotions wilder. The sweat on his body, trickling through his hair and soaking us both, had only added to the eroticism of the moment.
We'd kept going like this for several minutes. Perhaps even an hour. Together. Apart. Fighting. Rolling on the floor. Me grabbing his ass and his thighs and pinching his tits and groping his crotch. Him pushing me away. Kicking me away.
Needless to say, I never wanted it to end.
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