Pearls Before Wine

“The invading army of a small Queendom gets a
pleasant surprise.”

Queen Fanuta smiled wryly as she looked up from the
parchment in her hand. The messenger who brought it
offered to interpret it into her language, but she
had no need of translation. She read and spoke
Corthon almost as well as she did her own Nurian. Her
mother who had been Queen before her had seen to that
by giving her the son of her Corthon slave, one of
her many lovers, as her playmate and later as her own
first boy. “Our neighbors to the North are ambitious,
my dear. One day they may come calling. I want thee
want to give them a ‘proper’ reception.” The
carefully scripted words on parchment indicated that
day she and her people had been preparing for had now
arrived. She re-read the brief document.

*

Honored Fanuta, Queen of the Nurians. Hail!

Marius Portius, Emperor of Cortho sends thee
greetings.

Fame of the richness and splendor of thy realm,
Nuria, has spread far beyond thy frontiers. It has
come to my Imperial Knowledge that many enemies covet
the prize of thy land. I, Marius Portius offer thee
the protective embrace of Cortho. Within the fold of
my Empire, Nuria would be safe from the predators
which round about her compass as wolves about the
defenseless lamb. Thy ascent to our gracious offer
cannot be doubted. In three days my armies will be at
thy frontiers. In three more, at thy gates.

Open then, the gates of Nuria to Cortho, as a maiden
to her betrothed. Make ready a banquet for the
nuptials of our kingdoms.
Hail!

Ah! The insolence of the Corthon Emperor! “Safe from
predators?” Indeed! The lamb that has been eaten need
fear the wolf no more. “The nuptials?” Speak clearly,
Marius! Thou meanest the subjugation of Nuria, our
absorption as yet another province of the Corthon
Empire, another source of gold and women. “No,
Marius,” she smiled. “Nuria will not be an appendage
to thy Empire. Nuria will fight thee, nay, vanquish
thee as we did the Thrussians and the Sirtaphs before
thee,” she smiled, “and thou wiltst never know the
battle has already begun.”
Fanuta clapped her hands. “Run, Rini,” she said to
her serving girl, “call the High Priestess Dolphia
and the other priestess from the Goddess’s temple. I
would see them in council.” They had six days to
prepare a banquet. More than enough for a night
Marius and his men would never remember!

*

“Everything will be done, My Queen, even as thou hast
spoken,” Dolphia smiled confidently. “One of my
priestess will be at each officer’s side to lighten
his heart. The praetorians will be similarly
entertained. I will accompany mighty Aldos the
Strategeon. And of course Marius Portius is thine, My
Queen.”

“What of the lesser officers and men who will not be
at the banquet?” Fanuta asked.

“The women of the city have been informed, My Queen,
and are more than equal to that pleasant chore,”
Dolphia chuckled. “After all, we keep our husbands
and brothers happily tamed and they KNOW our wiles. A
few thousand foreign soldiers will be in no mood to
be troublesome that night, even without the Zuma we
will infuse in their officers’ wine.”

“The Zuma, have we enough?” Fanuta inquired.

“Enough and to spare,” spoke up Munira, Dolphia’s
deputy. “The women of Azunia were so grateful for our
assistance in putting down the revolt of their men
that they have supplied us with seventeen cartloads
of the finest leaf. Thy temple priestesses even now
are extracting the essence in abundance. In two days
hence we shall have enough Zuma to tame several
barbarian armies,” the young woman concluded proudly.

Gassara stepped forward scowling. Towering over the
priestess and even the Queen, the Captain of the
guard commanded respect. “Do not underestimate these
barbarians, my sisters. They are not like the soft
and weak-minded Nurian men. Their custom is to take
pleasure from women, not allow themselves to be
pleasured. And my spies tell me of a custom that
makes them not so easy prey. Corthon men refuse to
drink from a woman’s self. Nor will they take a
nipple into the mouth. They believe this to be
penetration by the woman and that a man must never be
penetrated. So, my sisters, ye shall not be able to
drug them with the Zuma-rich fluids of your sex,”
Gassara concluded.

“This is grave news, My Queen,” spoke Dolphia. “The
Zuma in wine makes a man’s mind soft and open to a
woman’s words, but only his worship at her temple
makes him fully her own.”

“Fear not, my sisters,” Fanuta replied. “These
Corthons have never met women like ye. What a man
thinks and believes in the cool bright air of Cortho,
may be very different in the warm thick vapors of a
Nurian bedchamber. Somehow I doubt they will know the
difference between taking their pleasure and merely
receiving it, when ye make their semen to boil up
inside ye. As for the city women, give each a pitcher
of wine for her “guest.” It will do our work even
though the woman understand not the power of Zuma. Go
now and adorn yourselves, my lovelies. Let us make
our visitors glad they have come before they regret
it — if they ever do,” she added, to the gathered
women’s giggles.

*

Dressed in the finest of diaphanous silks that hid
nothing of her full breasts and large dark nipples,
queen Fanuta watched the triumphant entrance of
Marius and his officer into the palace precincts.
Siting proudly upright she faced the Emperor as he
slowly approached her portable throne. Her eyes fell
on his narrow hips and broad shoulders. Glancing over
at Dolphia, she smiled, wondering if the High
priestess was making a similar appraisal of the
rugged Strategeon. She could not refrain from
comparing these beautiful specimens of males to the
nobles of her court. She noticed Marius’s large
powerful hands and feet. “Large feet, large …” she
mused. None of the men in her kingdom, delightful as
they were with their practiced worship, measured up.
Before handing the realm over to her, Fanuta’s mother
had insisted she should produce a daughter as heir as
soon as possible, but Fanuta dreaded allowing herself
to be made fat with the child of an effete son of one
of the scheming baronesses who coveted her crown.
Least of all Utafi.

“This light-skinned barbarian may serve me in other
ways as well,” she caught herself thinking. “And my
priestesses.” Fanuta knew that Dolphia’s and Munira’s
almost constant night play was more frustration with
their pretty-boy mates than real predilection for
women on their part. Indeed, the extended visit of
the barbarian army could be “very fruitful.” Rising
to meet him, Fanuta was aware of a growing wetness
between her legs.

“… In sum, My Lord Emperor, I, Fanuta of Nuria
welcome thee and thy men to our city. Even thought we
cannot conclude any treaty or high business of state
with ye during Thirteenth Moon Festival, we wish ye
to remain as our guests throughout the celebrations.
In honor of the happy visit of thy Imperial Majesty
we offer ye the toast of “Pearls before Wine.” Hail!

At her word, the woman at each officer’s side reached
to her necklace and quickly removed one of the many
pearls that adorned her neck. Fanuta did the same and
before the astonished eyes of Marius dropped the
shining pearl into his wine flagon as did all the
other women. “What hast thou done, Queen Fanuta?”
Marius asked. “The pearls will dissolve in the wine;
their beauty lost to the world for ever.”

“Not lost, My Lord Emperor, transformed into thy
further glory and of thy warriors,” she replied. “And
to cover the first taste of the Zuma,” she discretely
refrained from adding. After a few droughts, the
tongue no longer detected the bitterness of the
essence. “Now let the banquet begin!” Fanuta smiled,
raising her goblet in toast.

The feast proceeded as planned with platter after
platter of delicacies, the flesh of exotic animals,
fruits unknown in Cortho’s colder climes, seafood
from Nuria’s southern coasts. Each dish was prepared
with just a little more spice than necessary and
Marius and his men partook liberally of the wine that
never ran short. If they had been more attentive,
they would have noticed that their flagons were
refilled from different pitchers than those of their
smiling tablemates.

But the men’s attention was already elsewhere. Except
for campfollowers, none of the men had been with a
woman in weeks, certainly none like the exotic
beauties now at their side: high cheekbones, gleaming
ebony-smooth skin, hair that hung in hundred of tiny
plaits interwoven with silver and copper-hue threads.
The eyes of the men were assaulted with images of
voluptuous black bodies, breasts that pushed against
the flimsy upper body ties, bare waspish waists, and
ample womanly hips.

“The hospitality of Thy Highness surpasses even the
fame of thy beauty,” Marius said and he toasted
Fanuta yet again.

“My Lord is too kind to the Queen of a small people,”
Fanuta replied with downcast eyes, but she read in
Marius’s gaze more that mere flattery. He was
smitten. As well he should be. Her garment was of
sheerest silk and wound so as to display her dark
breasts. After the first goblet of wine, his eyes
seldom traveled far from them except to gaze deeply
into her dark eyes. Fanuta noticed a massive bulge
beginning to show itself beneath his tunic. That was
good; she had plans for it. By the time she finished
softening it, Marius would have taken the first steps
to his eventual enslavement.

It had been a day of surprises for the tired Emperor.
Fanuta smiled, remembering her powerful visitor’s
amazement when he first saw her. Apparently, his
intelligence had not informed him to expect a woman
of her age and with her beauty — and black! Nor was
he prepared to be greeted in capitaline Corthon
without the whistled “s” that betrayed his own
provincial origin. The luxury of the banquet brought
further amazement and she watched with amusement as
Marius’s face reflected the gradual shift from
arrogance to mere contempt, to acceptance, to
admiration, and now fascination with his scantily
clad hostess.

As the night wore on, a large torchfire was lighted
in the center of the couches. Marius and his men
reclined around the circle and pretty, flirty serving
girls continued to bring around plates of food and
flagons of wine. The torch burned down and a pounding
drumbeat was gradually growing louder. The serving
women were now bringing more drink than food and
their clothing had grown skimpier. Large unencumbered
breasts were dangled in front of the men’s eyes as
the women leaned down to refill their drinks. The
loincloths barely covered their provocative little
pussies. And when a girl stood close enough to a
seated man, he couldn’t avoid smelling a cunt in
heat.

Fanuta saw her women tittle and whisper to their
delighted guests, making sure their wineglasses
remained filled. The men grew tipsy and boisterous as
their tablemates teased them. Seeing that all was in
readiness, she gave the signal. Suddenly silence
welled up like a cobra rising from its basket. At the
sound of a gong, each man’s companion leapt into the
circle and positioned herself, one in front of each
man. Talking, laughing, and ribald remarks ceased as
a temple priestess began to writhe slowly before each
man, her movements in time with the imperceptibly
accelerating drum.

The officers were riveted by the swaying of the
women’s hips and bouncing breasts, none more than
Marius himself by Fanuta. She was taller and heavier
and a little older than the others. But what she
lacked in youth, she made up in a sultry sexiness.
Like the others, she had a bright silver disk
dangling from her neck in from of her large round
tits. Marius could not take his eyes off of those
tits and so he stared too, at the shining, flashing
disk.

As the dance accelerated, each woman inched closer to
her prey, forcing him to look up at an uncomfortable
angle at those wonderfully round, bouncing boobs.

The drum was louder now, as well as faster, and
filled the ears of the transfixed men as the flashing
disks filled their eyes. Slowly, Marius and his men
were falling into the power of the Queen and her
court. The men were being “tamed!”

Now the drum grew still louder and the rhythm more
frenetic. The dancers ground their hips in the faces
of the men. Their stares became glassy, their bright
blue eyes growing dim. Equally noticeable were their
hands. Quite unconsciously, the men had begun to
slowly stoke their rigid cocks. Suddenly the drum and
the dancers stopped. The men hardly reacted, so deep
was the spell they were under. Perfect!

Yet Fanuta noticed a bit of light creep back into
Marius’s gaze. He was a strong man, a willful man,
not an easy man to “tame,” by the looks of it.
Slowly, as if waking from a dream, he began to look
around him. The other dancers had fallen on his
entranced comrades. Even Aldos was lying cradled in
the arms of the busty Dolphia, placidly nursing her
breast, his eyes closed in a docile, beatific smile
as she stroked his face. His own aide-de-camp’s head
was thrown back as he sucked the pussy of Munira who
kneeled over him, slowly jacking him off. Two others
— Marius couldn’t see who in the dim torchlight —
were lying with their tunics up around their waists,
their heads lolling, as two smirking women
methodically rode them toward orgasm.

Like a lonely, cornered animal, Marius instinctively
sensed the danger and poised for fight or flight.
Fanuta looked down at him and saw his partially
successful efforts to throw off the spell. Her
nostrils flared to think of the powerful mind as well
as body that soon would be hers. Immediately, she
stepped forward, dropped her skirt, and thrust her
crotch in his face. The scent of a hot pussy must
have hit Marius with the force of an assagai. She
watched Marius fighting the powerful aroma of her
rank, dripping love slit. Marius was no longer
looking around at his vanquished followers; he was
staring straight ahead, straight at the wet, bushy
cunt in front of his eyes. Fanuta was looking down at
the big man, aroused but amused. She could see him
weakening; subject to the one instinct she knew that
could overcome the anger leading to resistance, the
fear leading to flight: lust.

In a desperate effort as if to ward off the
enchantment, Marius brought up his hands, just about
high enough to shield his eyes from the bewitching
sight before him, enough perhaps to push away the
tempting vision that held him fast. He stretched
forth his hand and — with a lunge, grabbed Fanuta’s
ass and buried his face in her warm snatch.

A kind of cheer went up from the watching women as
the barbarian leader went down to defeat. The Queen
allowed the slavering man to fill his mouth and nose
with her lust inducing juices for long seconds, then
dropped them both to the couch placed nearby for that
purpose. As Marius lost himself between those plump,
delectable thighs, nimble fingers removed his clothes
and the Queen began stoking his hardened prick.

*

At an early-morning meeting of her Council, Fanuta
looked around at six contented, if somewhat tired and
disheveled women around the mahogany table. “Did all
go as well as your faces tell me?” Fanuta asked.

“Indeed, My Queen,” reported Dolphia. “The men are
all still sleeping. A whisperer is with each filling
his mind with lustful thoughts. She has at hand a
sleeping potion if her charge should stir. Not one
will not leave our beds until he is our slave.”

“No, Dolphia. I do not desire them to be taken thus.
If our foreign guests disappear into our palace to
quickly, the remaining troops may become restless.
Remember, our sisters in the city can only entertain
the army. They are not skilled in the use of Zuma and
we cannot let them use it in the powerful mixtures as
we do. It can be many months before the soldiers are
so besotted with Zuma and soft bodies as no longer to
prove dangerous to us.”

“What then wouldst thou have us do, My Queen?”
Dolphia frowned. “Our spell upon them is well begun.
Shall we now allow our captives to slip from between
our fingers — and our thighs?” Dolphia added with a
chuckle.

“Nay, my clever minions,” Fanuta replied with a
smile. “Our new foreign friends will not escape from
your skilled hands or your lusty loins. It is a
foolish fisherman who pulls hard on the line when the
fish has just begun to nibble. Play with your fish
until your hook is deep into his mind. For now allow
him to awake each morning with memories of a night of
unspeakably intense sex. I trust ye had no difficulty
with that ‘chore.'”

“It is even as thou sayest!” Munira blurted out
causing the older women to giggle at her enthusiasm.
“Lucas may be a barbarian, but he is skilled in
wielding his manly weapon. I have never passed such a
night before. He brought me unto a woman’s pleasure
nigh unto a dozen times.”

“‘Lucas’ is it?” Fanuta teased her young companion.
“Methinks were it not for the Zuma in the drink of
the Emperor’s aide-de-camp, thou wouldst be in HIS
thrall.” Munira blushed and the other women tittered
before Fanuta continued. “‘Tis well, Munira. Cortho
is our enemy, not Lucas. Take thy pleasure from the
youth, Munira. Thy sisters did the same. Their
quarters are not so far from mind that I did not hear
THEIR cries last night.” Fanuta looked around
grinning at the other women whose embarrassed silence
confirmed her words. “I did even so with the Emperor.
His weapon is long and thick, but fortunately I have
a sheath that is the equal of it.” All the women
smiled and nodded.

“We want our guests to tarry long with us. Let’s make
their stay here a pleasant one. I shortly will be
awakening the Emperor Marius with a delightful
surprise. Do ye likewise. Later today I shall be
showing him the sights of our beautiful city. But I
do not doubt he will wish to share my bed again
tonight. In fact I suspect he will not wish to wait
that long to drink again from my womanhood and allow
me to melt the steel of his weapon in my furnace. If
anyone should venture to the Generalife gardens about
dusk this evening,” she grinned, “please do not let
thyself be seen.”

*

Fanuta judged well when her captive would awaken and
she was at his side when his eyes fluttered open.
“What…? Where… Oh, my head!” Marius moaned. Then
he saw the beautiful young black woman smiling down
at him.

“Good morning, My Lord, the Emperor,” Fanuta smiled
and kissed him softly on the lips.

“OH, my head!” the Emperor moaned. “What? What
happened?

“I fear thou didst partake too liberally of our
Nurian wine. As for later … Surely My Lord has not
forgotten last night. I never shall! My Lord was
magnificent!” Fanuta’s flattery was purposeful, but
not insincere. She had indeed come many times on the
barbarian’s thick cock. The Zuma weakened only his
will; it fortified and stimulated his body. “Thou
didst slay me with thy spear and gladly was I slain!
Never has any man filled me as didst Thou. Aye! My
Lord!” she gasped, her eyes widening in partial
surprise, “I scarce can believe my eyes! Thy weapon
is again ready for battle.”

Marius winced at her words. Fanuta knew he was well
aware of his erection, an inevitable result of seeing
her firm breast just inches before him. Aware, but
not pleased at that moment. As his large penis
throbbed to life, so his head throbbed with pain. He
moaned again, partly with arousal, partly the ache in
his forehead. “I feel thy pain, My Lord. Here, take
this potion; it will assuage thy torment.”

Marius shook his head, “‘Tis nothing,”

Fanuta smiled and persisted, pressing a goblet she
had prepared to his lips. It was sweet to his tongue
and he drank. “Yes, My Lord, drink it all. It will
cause thee to sleep and thy pain to cease.”

“Sleep again? But I have just awakened. The day is
well begun. My officials will expect me at noon for
Council,” Marius protested.

“Ah my brave, noble Lord,” Fanuta smiled. “Do not
concern thyself for them. Thou didst not battle alone
last nigh. I heard Aldos slay Dolphia many times,
last not long before dawn. The Council can wait.”

“Nay, Queen Fanuta. Duty is everything for a Corthon.
We cannot allow the weakness of the flesh to deflect
us from our appointed tasks.”

“It is as I feared, My Lord. Thy strong will is
preventing the potion from giving thee its balm. Rest
thy head on my bosom and I will make thee to sleep.”

“I must … not” Marius replied, struggling not to
pillow his head on the Queen’s perfect breasts.
Fanuta could see the potion beginning to make his
eyes heavy. It was time to take him one step further.

“My Lord, it is thy weapon, drawn and ready for
battle that does not allow the to sleep. Let us
battle again as we did last night, thy sword and my
sheath. Gladly would I have thee conquer me again!”
And before the drowsy and aroused Emperor could
react, Fanuta had straddled him and positioned her
moist cunt lips at the tip of Marius’s engorged cock.
“The sheath of thy sword awaits thee, My Lord.”

“Fanuta! No! This cannot be! A Corthon man never
allows a woman to …” A gasp cut short his words and
Fanuta lowered herself over the helpless man’s stiff
cock. Slowly as first she began to ride him.

“Speak no more, My Lord. Let me ease thy pain. Aye,
Thy manhood dost please me mightily. Yea, My Lord,
thrust deep and I will please thee, too. Deep, My
Lord, my sleepy Lord. Loose the hold on thy body, My
Lord. Let me take thee deep. Release thyself into me,
My Lord, deep into me, deeper and thou wilst sleep.
Release, My Lord and sleep. Release …release
…RELEASE!”

Fanuta had felt his orgasm building and his
consciousness sunk beneath her whispered words. With
a final twist of her shapely hips and a clinching of
her cunt muscles she triggered his climax.
Surprisingly, the flood of his hot seed released an
irresistible warmth within her and she collapsed on
his hairy heaving chest. It was several long moments
before she was again in control of herself, but no
harm was done. The Emperor was safely entranced a
faint smile on his face. Amazingly, his thick cock
was only now deflating. Fanuta let herself relax a
few more minutes in the Emperor’s strong, though now
limp, arms. She was aware that his penis still dammed
up her pussy, not allowing his thick sperm to drain
out of her. It was a pleasant sensation and stirred a
feeling of tenderness for her imperial captive.

Her pussy twitched at the thought of what could
result if they continued to “battle” thus if she were
incautious. Since she had become a woman, her mother
had taught her to drink a potion of Mea every morning
on three weeks of each four. “Do so and THOU canst
decide when and with whom to have a child, not thy
need for a man’s organ,” her mother had advised with
a knowing smile. Fanuta had done so as did most of
the elite of the Nurian women. Now she was beginning
to wonder if after twenty-five springs, if the time
was not approaching to put in practice the other part
of her mother’s advice.

*

The treaty as accession was to be signed on the first
day of the month after the New Moon festival. The
rains had ceased, yet the harsh dry heat of summer
had not yet come upon the land. The sun shone merely
warm on the lush landscape around them. The treaty
was being signed on the portico of the temple of the
Goddess overlooking the newly whitewashed city below
and the green valley beyond. Originally scheduled for
the fourth hour, the ceremony had to be postponed
until noon, as Marius and his men had greater
difficulty than usual in arising from the soft beds
and softer arms in which they slept.

Now all was in readiness as Queen Fanuta and her
council of priestesses met Marius and his council of
warriors. An official of Corthon palace protocol
would have been surprise that rather than sitting on
opposite sides of the long table, Corthons and
Nurians sat side by side. Yet is seemed quite
appropriates to the participants, who only an hour or
so earlier had been entwined in each other’s arms.

The formal toasts over, Marius arose to speak. Fanuta
smiled reflecting that unlike the banquet a month
ago, no pearls were needed to disguise the Zuma in
the wine. The men no longer noticed the drug and
indeed, would have felt quite uncomfortable were it
not supplied. “Queen Fanuta,” Marius said, trying to
sound severe with the woman whose bed he had so
recently shared. “There appear to be some changes in
the treaty. It was carefully considered by the
Corthon Senate and drafted by our lawyers.”

“Aye, My Lord. I asked that a few clarifying words be
added in the spirit of thy invitation to join the
Corthon Empire. Thou didst ask us to ‘open our gates
as a maiden does to her betrothed.’ I believe My Lord
will agree that we have opened more than our gates.”
The men looked embarrassed as the women at their side
snuggled closer.

“But this treaty states that no legions, save the
Emperor’s guard will be posted in thy land,” Marius
pointed out.

“True, My Lord. Now that we are wedded to the Empire,
no enemy will dare attack. Thy legions will be freed
to defend thy northern marches. We can deal with
raiders as always.”

“Aye, My Queen, but internal order?”

“Does the bridegroom send armed servants to watch
over his bride, My Lord? I dared hope My Lord would
do his own watching.” Marius was not sure if it was
and accident, but at that moment his eyes fell on
Fanuta’s ample breast and he could not suppress a
noticeable stiffing of his prick.

“But my Queen, soon I will return to Cortho. Business
in the capital demands it.”

“Speak not of departure, My Lord. The marriage of
Nuria to Cortho is but consummated and the honeymoon
is not yet begun. Stay yet the season. Surely thou
dost not wish to return to Cortho just as the cold
rains and bitter winds of the North sweep thy
capital.”

“But the Senate will be expecting a report and the
first tribute.”

“Report the plain truth; the capital is wherever the
Emperor lays his head. Do not thy own laws say thus?
As for gifts, My Lord, with thy permission, I shall
send each Senator, Tribune, Praetor, and Pontifex the
finest fruit of our land, a Nurian maiden for to wife
with a rich dowry.” Fanuta smiled at her words. Yes,
the Nurian women would take dowries that included
many large flasks of Zuma essence. Perhaps next year
when their new wives became homesick for their native
land, a goodly number of Senators and other high
officials would join their emperor in Cortho’s new
Southern capital.

At each clever reply, Fanuta saw the Zuma-addled
heads of the Corthons nod ascent. “Set thy had to the
treaty, My Lord, and let the marriage celebrations
begin.” She smiled over that the Emperor who was
gazing at her almost in adoration. As she placed a
quill in his hand her other hand found his manhood
beneath his tunic and gently squeezed. Marius’s
doubts and objections floated away. He certainly did
not want to feel the miserable cold of a Corthon
winter. Less did he wish to leave the bed of this
delightful woman who filled his nights and days with
pleasure beyond his previous imaginings. Carefully
appended the initials to the document –

C. I. M: Corthun Imperator Marius.

The heat of the dry season arrived making it
difficult for Marius to conduct Imperial business
around mid-day. Not that he conducted very much at
other times. Marius held Imperial court personally
only during mornings, mornings that grew shorter and
shorter as the Emperor, exhausted by long, vigorous
sessions of lovemaking with Fanuta, arose later and
later. Marius was introduced to the delightful custom
of siesta after the mid-day meal, a custom made more
delightful still by Fanuta’s company in bed. He took
his meals with Fanuta and so it was quite convenient
for her to lead him to her bedchamber. There beneath
pukahs moved by beautiful servant girls Fanuta let
his suckle her breasts until he was moaning with
arousal and the send him to sleep by riding him to a
volcanic climax that left him almost comatose.

Marius did not realize it, but more and more Imperial
affairs were transacted in his name by Fanuta and her
court. She now wore the imperial Signet. It had been
thus since the arrival of the Santhian Ambassador.
News had reached Marius in Fanuta’s chamber just
after a long slow siesta fuck that, as usual, had
left the Emperor quite drowsy. Fanuta gave his
eyelids a little kiss and offered to attend to the
matter. It had not seemed proper, but Marius was just
too sleepy to refuse his lively young bedmate, who
slipped off his ring and scurried to great the
visiting dignitary. Marius never remembered to ask
that she return it. A couple of times he started to
speak about it, but Fanuta was feeling amorous and
soon the Emperor was on his getting a marvelous fuck.

As Fanuta spent more and more time on Imperial
business, she introduced Marius to her servants to
keep him sated and happy. His vanity stroked by being
told he was “too much man for one woman,” Marius
accepted them into his bed during the long
afternoons. It was difficult to satisfy so many
pretty women, but he tried.

As the summer drought burned the landscape to dull
brown, a challenge arose. The wild tribes of Zaria in
the West were causing increasing trouble. A decisive
blow was called for, but Fanuta did not wish to rouse
the Emperor from the lethargy she had crafted. The
danger, she decided, could become an opportunity and
set a plan in motion. Several weeks later a messenger
reached the palace with news from the frontier and
Fanuta was summoned. Leaving the Emperor in the post
coital bliss of an early morning ride, she rose and
persuaded the messenger that he should refresh
himself before delivering the message to the Emperor.
The young man’s “refreshment” in the arms of two
temple priestesses gave Fanuta time to complete
preparations.

She arranged for the messenger, exhausted by the
priestesses, to stumble into the imperial chambers
just after the Emperor had come most satisfyingly in
his royal lover’s warm wet pussy.

“Grave news, sire! The Zarians have attacked Quoma.
The Nurian defenders fled and the women were taken
away.” Fanuta smiled secretly. The Zarians had taken
the bait. A few years with Nurian wives would tame
the tribe, but meanwhile for form’s sake, they must
be chastised.

“Villainy!” roared the Emperor, trying to arise from
the couch. Guards! Bring my armor. <gasp> Bring my
sword.” The unaccustomed exertion told on the Emperor
who was growing flabby from too much food, wine, and
sleepy lovemaking.

“Do not concern thyself with the Zarian raiders, My
Lord,” Fanuta smiled and pushed another goblet of
wine into Marius’s limp hand. “I shall deal with
these swine in thy name. Thou hast more important
matters to attend.”

“My Queen, it is not meet that thou shouldst deal
with affairs of state while I remain always within
the palace. Of what ‘more important matters’ dost
thou speak?”

“The most important matter of all, My Lord,” Fanuta
smiled. “I have brought thee the daughter of a
powerful prince and if I err not, she is ripe this
night for thy potent seed.”

“What? Thou wouldst that I remain behind to bed a
foreign wench while thou leadest our soldiers into
battle?”

“The woman is Mai-te, from the Chen, My Lord. Make
her womb swell with thy child, and another kingdom
will be mine, er, thine.”

“Can I not service her another day? I would smash
these insolent Zarians with mine own strong hand!”

“Strong it is, My Lord, but stronger still the weapon
thou wieldest here, in thy loins! Lo, I feel it stir
mightily!” the wily woman said, placing her hand on
Marius’s cock.

“Fa -nu -ta!” he groaned.

“Yeah, My Lord, the sword of thy strength is ready.
Plunge it into her belly and make her thine.” The
Queen clapped three times and two serving girls led
in a tall dark beauty with almond eyes, fighting to
break free. “Look on her My Lord. See the proud
breasts, breasts that thou wilst make heavy with milk
to give suckle to thine offspring. See the wide hips
that shall bear thy child. Is she not comely? Aye!
Thy sword leapeth in mine hand.”

“But is this not the one brought in chains, but days
ago? Did she not cry aloud that she would never
consent to be my concubine?” Marius asked, unable to
take his eyes from the gorgeous woman.

“Indeed she is, My Lord, but she is but a woman. Her
mind is weak and her body is susceptible to the
potions and philters of thy priestesses and
enchantresses. She has been with them for these days.
Now she burns with lust for thee. Even now her temple
weeps with the joyful anticipation of thy manhood.
Lie with her until the new moon and thy seed will
find its fertile field. Her belly will grow fat with
the fruit of thy loins.”

“But Fanuta, Th-The…” he swallowed as his eyes
feasted on the scarcely clad maiden in front of him,
unable to formulate his sentence.

“Zarian raiders?” Fanuta finished his implied
question. “My Lord, surely thou wilts not let this
beautiful flower wither on account of a few Zarians
who are foolish enough to defy thee.” The queen
lifted one of the thin veils that barely hid the
young woman’s charms. Her olive skin contrasted with
the alabaster thighs of her imperial captive.

“My Lord, thy humble servant will deal with and rid
us of this Zarian nuisance. Thy kingdom and thy
people need the issues of thy potent loins to remain
strong.” With a tap of her hand, she made the
writhing young woman spread her thighs a little.

“Behold My Lord, this ready vessel. The high
priestess assures us she has never born fruit. At Thy
command my serving girls will ready her that thou
mightest pour her full of thy potent liquor.

“But how knowest, my Queen, that the time draweth
nigh for conception? Perchance we shall return and
she be yet ready.”

“Ah, my proud Lord! I am a woman and I know the signs
of a woman’s body when it crieth out for child, but
verily, I pray thee, prove my words.”

Fanuta nodded to the woman. “Shew thy readiness to My
Lord, wench!” she commanded.

The servants released the writhing girl and Marius
suddenly realized her struggles had not been to
escape, but to fling herself on HIM. In a twinkling,
she had flown to the couch where Marius reclined and
had thrust her pussy into his face. Without thinking
Marius drew her to him and began to lick the copious
fluids that leaked from her vagina.

Fanuta smiled as she saw Marius loose himself between
the young woman’s ample thighs. “Taste and prove, but
carefully, My Lord, lest the potions she has been
given affect thee, too. Do not drink too deeply of
her flowing fount or the desire to breed will
overtake thee as it has her.” Even as Marius ate the
aroused woman, Fanuta was slowly stoking him. “Aye!
“Thy sword is drawn and ready. My Lord is too
generous to his concubine, to pleasure her in this
way. Wouldst My Lord make her come with thy powerful
tongue? Lo! A woman’s pleasure is upon her! Her cup
overfloweth. Drink it not My Lord!”

The Emperor’s enchantment was too deep to heed
Fanuta’s ironic warning. As the woman’s cum squirted
onto the helpless man’s face, the crafty Fanuta she
gave his cock a final jerk and made him erupt into
her hand. “Ah, My Lord, my generous Lord! Thou hast
spent thyself giving pleasure to this foreign woman.
Even if thou willest, thou canst not now accompany
thy troops as we smite the Zarians. I perceive that
slumber overtaketh thee. Thy concubine is similarly
spent. Sleep with her, My Lord. Take her this night
and every night ’til my return. Fill her with thy
efficacious seed and make her grow heavy with thy
child.”

Marius looked up at Fanuta through sated eyes, almost
pleading. “Do not speak My Sweet Lord. I know thy
eyes grow heavy. Thou wilst sleep and I will go. And
when I return, the woman will shew forth the fullness
of thy handiwork. Thou wilst breed her well, My Lord.
But now thou must sleep. Sleep deeply, My Lord. Thine
eyes close softly. Thy thoughts are scattered and
drift away from thee. Sleep, My Lord. Sleep.”

Fanuta smiled again as the woman gathered Marius’s
head to her breasts and he began to suck softly. The
woman looked up at Fanuta who winked. This clever
foreign prostitute Fanuta had procured would keep the
silly man happily occupied for the next several
weeks, she thought. Several more weeks of drinking
her drugged wine and eating her potion-laced food
would keep her imperial “guest” too drowsy and horny
to think about anything but this and other nubile
women in the harem Fanuta had carefully assembled for
him. Each was an enchantress in her own right,
skilled in enflaming the lust of any man and using
that lust to keep his will soft and pliable. Fanuta
herself had taught Marius to allow a woman to mount
him, pacify him with her pussy and draw forth his
sperm, sating him with sleepy pleasure. As Marius lay
abed letting one woman after another drain and
enervate him with pleasure, Fanuta would gather the
reins of power to herself. Soon the Empire would be
hers alone! Just one more thing was needed.

*

Several weeks later it was a self-satisfied Fanuta
who presided over the Great Council. One after
another the reports had all been favorable. The
Zarians had been chased back over the border feeling
lucky the Nuri-Crothon troops had not pursued them to
recover the abducted women. She imagined what kind of
homecoming the Nurian women had prepared. Nothing
more would be heard from Zaria raiders; that was
sure.

Messages had arrived telling of the success of the
Nurian maidens sent to Cortho. Each had quickly
become a cherished favorite of her new husband
without raising the ire of the first wife. As the
Zuma increased the stamina as well as the
malleability of the Corthon men, the first wives
found they were getting fucked better and more often
than before the Nurian girl arrived. The Senate
hardly met any more; with two horny women at home,
Senators had better things to do. In most households
both the Nurian and the Corthon wife were pregnant.

The Corthon foot soldiers were being rapidly absorbed
as second husbands for the women in the environs of
the capital, although some of the city women sent
their former mates back to their elder sisters,
preferring the imported to the domestic product. Most
of the Corthons had been farmers before being forced
into the army and would probably have been quite
happy to stay even if without having a woman who
wanted to fuck two or three times a day.
Surprisingly, the Corthons were able to introduce
several new crops and farming techniques that meant
greater agricultural output. The extra food would be
quite welcome as most of the Nurians with new Corthon
husbands were now found with child.

As Marius, Aldos and the other Corthon officials lost
interest in matters of state — for months their
sleeping ears had been filled by whisperers making
them forget such things — their captors encouraged
them to become more physically active. Fanuta and the
other women enjoyed going to the stadium and watch
their men wrestle, sprint, broad jump, throw javelins
and shoot bows, each cheering excitedly for her
bedmate. Fanuta was pleased that her Marius was
seldom bested except by Aldos, and that only in
wrestling, where the Strategeon’s greater bulk made
him invincible.

“In sum, Nuria had never been more prosperous or more
secure. Nuria is, to all intents and purposes, the
capital of an Empire that is Corthon only in name.
The minnow has swallowed the frog. There is but one
thing more that we can do to seal our place at the
head of the Empire. I, myself, have already taken
this final step,” the Queen stated proudly. “The
choice is yours, but for several weeks *I* no longer
partake the daily draught of Mea.”

A little titter went around the table. “I may have
softened and blunted the Emperor’s will, but I can
report that his sword remains rigid and sharp,” the
Queen announced with a little smirk. “About the time
of next Thirteenth Moon Festive, I will bear the
Emperor’s child!”

Fanuta paused and looked around; then she frowned.
She was expecting a reaction: surprise, jubilation,
outrage; instead Council appeared merely pleased.
Dolphia saw the Queen’s consternation and smiled. “We
share thy joy, My Queen, but not thy caution.”

“My caution? Why I have allowed the Emperor…”

“We well know what thou hast allowed the Emperor,”
the High Priestess smirked. “But thou art not the
first.”

“What?”

“My Queen, I am with child since the night of the
treaty ceremony, although Aldos does not yet know
it,” Dolphia announced.

“Lucas and I are expecting before the rains resume.
Behold!” Munira stood, lifted her short tunic and
displayed to everyone the first signs of her
delightful bulge. “I wanted his child from the first
night I made him lie with me.”

One by one the other Council members nodded and
rubbed their bellies. “Even I, My Queen,” Gassara
smiled at last. “Although in truth I cannot say which
of the Praetorian Guards is the father. As a
precaution, I have taken the whole lot for my
household!”

This announcement at last brought the gasps of
amazement Fanuta had expected at her own. Although
irked at being upstaged by her followers, surrounded
by so many happy women, she could not remain angry.
“Well,” the Queen laughed, “It seems we need to
arrange quickly for a joint marriage ceremony, lest
we cause scandal.”

“There will be scandal enough as it is, My Queen,
when thou and thy entire Council present their
swollen bellies before the alter of the Goddess where
an equally pregnant High Priestess will meet them,”
chuckled Dolphia.

“Enough? Oh, perhaps not,” the Queen replied with a
mischievous grin. “I can think of something else to
set the gossips’ tongues wagging.” No one dared ask,
although the Queen’s broad smile harbored no threat.
“Now that we have gotten ourselves with child, we can
begin to share the fathers to be. Methinks Munira is
not the only one to have admired fair Lucas,” she
grinned, glancing at Dolphia who looked embarrassed,
“and, too, I would prove the mettle of Aldos sword,”
the queen smiled again. “Perchance for a few nights
my cries will disturb the High Priestess’s sleep, as
for months hers have mine.”