THE EUNUCH
Regina Kammer
Relinquishing his body in service to the king had not been his choice. Arashis tugged on the twisted silk that slid across his palms, the slick, soft cords wrapped around his wrists binding him to the carved and gilded ebony bedposts. Holding him securely.
No. Relinquishing his body in service to the king had been necessary for survival.
He relaxed his eyelids under the velvety lambskin blindfold, giving in to the quietude of the dark and the euphoria of anticipation.
Chaos had reigned after the legions of Rome had invaded Parthia. He had been but a boy, the third son of wealthy merchants. Expendable—an offering to the new client king.
Submission meant surrendering his body to royal butchers. They spared his manhood.
Arashis shuddered at the memory, his unbound legs squirming against the feather mattress.
Yet such submission and mutilation meant freedom. A freedom most did not enjoy.
Through the occupation, Arashis had made himself indispensable to the royal household. He walked the halls of power, administering counsel. He guarded the women’s domain where scarred men such as he and the prepubescent sons of princesses were the only males allowed.
By the time Parthia had won back its independence, Arashis had achieved a measure of power.
What had he given up? Leading caravans along the Silk Route. Marriage to one in the merchant class. Children. His stones.
He filled his lungs with the sultry air and let out a sigh.
But what had a life of submission opened up to him?
Power in the throne room as an advisor to kings.
Power in the bedroom as the lover of a princess.
The pop and sputter of a candle signaled movement in the air. Someone had entered the bedchamber.
He chuckled. Not someone. Her. The princess. His princess.
Relinquishing his body in service to the king had not been his choice. But giving his body in service to the princess had been very much his choice.
The honeyed scent of burning wax mingled with the delicate fragrance of exotic floral perfume. She was watching him from the other side of the sheer draperies separating her bedchamber from her dressing room.
Her unmet gaze lay heavy and wanton across his flesh, prickling his nipples. She would be smiling at his nude body stretched against the fine linen sheets, at the effects of the magus’s elixir on his male potency.
She loved to observe him like this, his vulnerable state a reflection of her own helplessness. By outward appearances, his princess commanded a bevy of attendants and lesser royals. But at any moment, her maidservants could be sent away to the bed of a prince. Or a rival king could descend upon the palace and slaughter her children.
Her hold on her power was tenuous. And she clung to a memory of when she held sway over the world.
A balmy breeze from an open window danced over him. The freshness of spring was fading on the cusp of summer.
Rome had invaded when her father was king, her mother queen, she a young girl. She had hid in the tower as her family was seized by the Roman guard, and reemerged to an empty palace. She sat upon the throne, holding the seat for her father. For one glorious moment, this little princess had been Shah of the Parthian Empire.
The moment had been too brief.
She endured captivity in Rome for a dozen years, then was returned to Parthia and married to a neglectful prince. She performed her duty as wife and mother while her husband dallied with concubines.
Never once did the princess reclaim her moment of glory. Until she and Arashis became lovers.
As they explored the possibilities of lovemaking, she discovered she craved the heady experience of taking control, of dominating another.
He discovered he did not mind being dominated by her. In fact, he found it quite thrilling.
His submission to the princess brought them both great joy.
A flowery scent flared his nostrils, swirling arousal to the root of his cock. She had finally entered the bedchamber. She glided softly along the mosaic floor, tugging carelessly on the bedsheet, the soft linen suddenly abrasive under his flushed skin.
She grazed a fingernail down his arm, eliciting tingling shivers across his flesh. When she scratched the hollow under his shoulder, he flinched with a gasp.
“You will pleasure me.” Her command was edged with agitation.
“Yes, my queen.”
She always smiled when he called her that.
The mattress dipped as she clambered up to straddle his head, her calves at his ears. No hem fluttered around his face. His princess was nude.
He breathed her in, his mouth watering. He clenched his fists against the silk and swallowed.
She brushed her depilated quim over his nose down to his chin. Then she settled herself, his lips her throne.
He tasted slowly, tantalizing her with mouth and tongue, pleasuring her. Or was it himself he pleasured as he savored her?
He teased the pearl with the tip of his tongue, flicking gently, steadily.
She leaned over, her tremulous breaths hot and moist on the tip of his shaft. “More.”
She gripped his hips, her nails digging into the sides of his buttocks, her ragged moans limned with despair. Droplets of warm water slithered onto his legs, tickling his inner thighs.
Sweat?
No.
Tears.
He sucked her pearl into his mouth, working it relentlessly, cruelly, her calves squeezing his cheeks as her purring moans crumbled into clipped yelps.
She tensed, muscles taut and strained, and let out a mournful wail.
She came, drenching him with her sweet essence, until the acrid taste of male emission slid over his tongue, filling his mouth. And then he understood the source of her anguish.
Her husband had demanded her presence in his bed. She had no choice but to comply.
She slumped over, shaking, sobbing, rolling onto the mattress. She curled up against him. “Hold me.”
“Release me.”
She loosened the silk cords, relief easing his muscles as he bent and flexed his arms, then removed his blindfold and slid to his side.
The gold of lamplight and candles burnished the dusky ivory of her skin. He traced her luscious saffron-red lips with a fingertip, then tucked a strand of hair black as obsidian behind her ear.
She lowered her lashes. “I fear I did not act the queen tonight.”
Arashis offered a consoling smile and kissed her damp cheek. He pulled the sheet over them and enveloped her in his arms. He nuzzled his nose in her tresses, his unsatisfied erection prodding her cleft.
“I will always be here for you, my princess.”
Giving his body in service to the princess had granted Arashis more power and pleasure than any king could have bestowed.