Achaemenid Empire Pt. 02

The moon was full and monstrous in the vast night sky with her own harem of a million stars, and I carried my girl across the lands, moving with such speeds that I was sure she thought we were flying just above the sands. But I held her tight, and she held tight back, perhaps more from fear of falling than anything else.

But even then, I could see her staring up at me, her eyes suspicious of my countenance, and why not? For all that I look human, perhaps I look too human. My skin too unblemished, especially in these harsh environs. And my eyes surely gave a clarity and lustre, even by the light of the moon, which belied my humanity. And, let's face it: there was probably little of that left. Inspired by that thought, I bent my head and put my lips to her ear, feeling her soft tresses against my cheek. My lips brushed her ear as I spoke, and I felt her tremor from the touch.

"I am neither aša and I am neither druj," I told her. Did she understand those concepts? She hadn't been long at that harem, but she'd been in the company of Persian's long enough, I wagered, to understand. If she did, she gave no indication. And why would she? I'd killed four men easily, and carried her across miles of desert in speed.

Finally, the light of the city was gone, and we were now small and insignificant in a cold desert that stretched to all horizons, save but for one that was girthed by the dark waters of the Caspian. And all above - reaching in an impossible arc from side to side - was the miraculous depth of the night sky shattered all over by an improbable amount of bright stars. Some so bright it seemed we could reach out and touch them.

I spied a small encampment of Parni farmers, somewhere in the lands of Dahae, or perhaps it was Khorasmii. I carried my girl, her breasts squeezed together in my embrace and those dark nipples showing enticingly through her thin cloth dress, at a steady pace now, towards the camp. I took the long way around their stock, so as not to spook the animals, past their horses armoured with plates that layered down over their flanks like the feathers of a bird, and approached the camp. There were as many as a dozen yurts erected around a bonfire, and the families milled around the warmth of this fire and ate of the meat that cooked at its edge.

I stepped into the light cast from that fire, and the families gasped as reached for their weapons. Immediately some men broke away with spears and searched the darkness beyond the reach of their tents, ready to defend against an attack. I looked for the clan leader amongst them, but he was not with them. He was only now emerging from his own tent, bow and arrow in hand, and followed by two of his wives. When he saw me holding my Indian girl, and that no attack seemed imminent, he lowered his weapon. The other men did not.

I spoke to him in Parthian, and told him that I was a walking death but that would I be accommodated this night then no harm would befall his people, or his livestock. Gold and silver meant nothing to these people, but water was everything, and they had a deep superstition of it. And of magic. And so I promised that as death I would see their rivers run dry, and their lakes empty into the earth. Of course, I could do no such thing, but they were not to know this. Simply, the way the light of their fire reflected in my eyes and was absorbed by my skin was probably enough to tell them I was not human. And if I was not, then perhaps I was a god, or a devil. Either way, they would assume I had power enough to do as I promised.

I was allowed possession of the central yurt, and I warned them that no intrusion should be made on me or that I would slaughter their children before the dawn and finish their river and lands before the next harvest.

Inside the yurt, it was warm, and the thick leather sides held the chill of the desert's post-midnight air at bay. Thick pelts of beasts, yak and deer and some others I did not know, hung from the walls and lay across the floor. There was a raised platform covered in them, a kind of bed, and I lay my girl upon it. She scooted away from me, glaring at me, scared and hostile. From a post she snatched a bronze dagger, its handle bejewelled with red and green inlays, though she didn't take any heed of its beauty. She pointed it at me, and her eyes told all she would do to me if I were to come closer.

Quickly I was on the bed, and she thrust the blade towards me but I danced away from it, and slid in behind her, my arm sliding along hers and closing over her hand that held the blade, my other hand snaking around her waist and closing around her midriff. I jerked her hand back towards us, and the blade, now pointed directly at her, stopped a finger's length from her throat. I held it there, and felt her stiffen. I relaxed, and let my body press against hers, feeling her warmth. I nuzzled my face into her hair and smelt the night in it.

Still pinioning her grip over the handle, I guided the blade tip down across the leather collar, the bronze making a clacking sound against the jewels there, and I dug its tip in under the edge and suddenly sliced the blade upwards, towards the ceiling. She gasped and turned her face away as though I meant her harm from the dagger. The leather collar cleaved in two, and immediately fell open around her shoulders, pulling the tunic apart and splitting it down to her cleavage. The fabric was now stretched taught against her breasts, and her nipples rose in two bumps against it.

I threw the blade across the yurt, and it clattered against a war drum sat against the wall.

I let go of her hand, and sat back, my hips pushed against her rear, and let myself rest on my hands. She could feel that I had released her, and I saw her head turn slightly, considering her options.

"Don't run," I said.

I unlaced the straps around my wrist and throat and pulled my tunic loose. I slipped it up over my head and tossed it onto the floor. She turned her head to look at it, and her shoulders hunched up a bit. I trailed my across them, feeling her skin, feeling the undulations of her body, running my fingers down her spine, snagging them in the cloth of her dress. I pulled hard at it, tearing it down the middle, pulling it away to expose her back.

On her lower back was a scar. Nothing simple. A brand, actually. It were a line of marks, short strokes that looked almost like the fangs of a vampire that had had been drawn across her skin. But deep. These were intended to be seen. I traced them with my finger, but she pulled away. Not from pain. This was something she didn't want me exploring.

I pressed my hand against her skin below the scars, and ran my hand down towards her ass. The cloth had fallen enough to bunch there.

I sat up, pressing my bare chest against her exposed back, feeling the heat of it against me. I wrapped my arms around her, one hand stroking her jawline, the other caressing hr tit through the cloth. It was so soft and warm, that tit. I couldn't even hold it fully in my open hand. I reached down and found the edges of the torn tunic, and tore it away violently. Her breasts fell into view with a little bounce. Beautifully brown tits with dark areolae and nipples. I cupped them, enjoying their warmth, and ran my thumbs across her nipples, digging into them and making them hard.

Suddenly, and this took me by surprise, she turned her head and pressed her mouth against her mine, her full soft lips opening and the tip of her tongue darting out enough to touch between my lips, and moisten the skin of my lips. I pressed back, and our lips locked, and I felt her tongue, hot and wet, and we sucked and kissed at each other, a sudden urgency in our desire.

She turned to face me, and she was so beautiful. Her face was framed in those long dark ringlets and her big dark eyes held my own stare, and any fear she'd shown before seemed to be engulfed now by something even stronger. There seemed to be a challenge in her expression. She hadn't given in at all, had not succumbed. Instead, sometime hen I'd been undressing her, a resolve had set in her. And now I felt as if it was not she but I who had been abducted from a temple and brought to this strange land for lovemaking.

She pushed me now. Both hands, against my chest, and I nearly feel back. It wasn't playful. It was demanding. Her eyes were on my lips, and she went to strike my face, but I caught her by the wrist and pulled her towards me, and she fairly fell against me as our lips locked and our tongues found each other.

I fell back, partly against the force of her, and I landed in the soft folds of fur pelts, with her on top of me, her warm tits pressed against my chest, her hair falling all around me, creating a curtain between me and the world, with only her gorgeous face before me. Her eyelids were heavy, her lashes thick and dark, her lips in a sultry pout.

I wanted her more than ever, more than when I would spy on her in her bathing at the Harem temple.

She kissed me anew, slow and deep now, and I ran my hands down the full length of her back, down over her wide hips, and pushed back the last of the dress, exposing her ass. I ran my hands over her ass now, feeling her cheeks and fullness, and images of her ass bouncing under her dress back at the temple filling my mind. My hands slipped down under the curve of her ass, tickling the hair there, in the warmth between her thighs. And when my finger brushed gently against her labia, and found them wet, I knew I was ready to fuck my beautiful Indian girl.