The Sevarian Way - Page 7

“I know,” he said, bending his head lower until his lips were close, so close. But he tore them away in time. “We can’t do anything about it until we leave. Perhaps we shouldn’t go inside.”

“Oh, we should,” gasped Suka, putting a hand to Paul’s cheek, the physical connection of skin on skin almost knocking her off her feet.

“It’s not your call, Suka,” he said, but his voice was a croon now, low and deep, his chest vibrating against her ear. He was losing thi

s fight.

“Think of the book I could write,” she marvelled.

He gave in and pulled her into the vast chamber with its jewelled ceiling and fragrance of musk.

“This was where Paladians would have their weddings,” said Suka, her arms around Paul’s neck now, their foreheads bumping.

“Yes.” His breath warmed her ear and neck. “All the congregation would come together in the spirit of love and passion, to celebrate the joining of the couple.”

“Come together…literally?” Suka’s hand had found its way to Paul’s backside. Paul grabbed one of her thighs and lifted it so her leg was hooked around his and a convenient resting place for his hardening cock was provided.

“Yes. The Paladian concept of a good wedding party was an orgy.”

“I kind of love these people. I wish they hadn’t died out.”

“I might have settled here.” Paul’s words poured directly into Suka’s ear now, hot and savage with lust. “I might have brought you with me.”

“Oh lord.” Suka sighed blissfully, though the tiny part of her that retained its rationality wondered with unease whether it was just the erotically-charged stone speaking. “I would have come.”

“You most definitely would,” he agreed, and his hands stroked down the curve of Suka’s back until they met the swell of her bottom, still burning sorely from the whipping, so that she winced when his palms rested there.

“So.” Suka shuddered, feeling she should probably look up from Paul’s chest and take in her surroundings, but somehow unable to do so. “Talk me through the Paladian coupling ritual.”

“Mmm, okay,” he said. With an effort of will, he unwound Suka from his body and led her to the raised dais at the centre of the chamber. “Let’s say we’re the happy couple. We come up here, where the crowds can see us properly.”

They climbed the steps and stood in front of a piece of furniture resembling an altar, but with padding, all covered in richly coloured, water-resistant fabrics, reminiscent of earthly silks.

“Now, the form of service depends on the type of bond,” Paul explained, his hand coming again to rest on Suka’s bottom while she drank him in, longing for him with every fibre of her being. “The type of bond I think you’d be most interested in is the subjection bond.”

“What is that?”

“It’s the pledge of a man or woman to offer full and lifelong submission to their bondmate.” Paul’s free hand cupped Suka’s chin, his thumb pressing into her cheek, forcing her to hear and absorb every word. “Do you think that would appeal to you?”

“Oh…my,” was all she could say.

“Let’s re-enact the process, then, shall we? I don’t know all the words of the service, so I’ll give it my best guess. First of all, you have to kneel at my feet.”

Suka dropped to her knees as if shot, bending her forehead so it touched Paul’s glossy black boots.

“Exactly like that,” he approved. “Then some vows are spoken. You would say something about giving yourself to me unconditionally and obeying my every word. I would say something about cherishing and protecting you and not sparing the rod.”

Suka gulped and kissed his feet. She was soaking wet between her legs and almost twitching with need for him.

“That’s nice. I’m not sure it’s part of the service. But this is.”

He pulled her to her feet and she fell with infinite gratitude into the heat and fury of his kiss. Their lips smashed together and their tongues curled around each other, greedy and insatiable. For Suka, the intensity of the passion was almost like anger, causing her to crush her body up against his and take rough fistfuls of his flesh. He moved her round and round on the spot, ravaging her mouth until it was dry and her lips throbbed, swollen and spent.

“Now you get your clothes off,” he panted hoarsely, tugging at her top. “I have to display my new acquisition to the crowds.”

“Acquisition?”

“A wealthy Paladian could have up to five bond subjects. Of course, if it was me, I’d stick with one. One is enough.”

Tags: Justine Elyot Science Fiction
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