Kiss of Iron

Part One

Chapter One

An Offer of Pussy

 

Ambassador Lysandre Mayben sat across the stone table from King Dakron Skander. In her eyes he wasn’t much of a king, but that was fine with Dakron because he didn’t consider her much of a woman, let alone an ambassador.

As was the custom of the Kingdom of the Isles, Lysandre wore the severe black dress of her station. The top of it circled her neck with a lace frill, the sleeves when all the way down her arms to her wrists. Over her hands she wore silk white gloves. Her skirt went down to her ankles which covered up her ankle boots. In the summer, even the lightest of the black dresses were stifling, but now it was winter and she was up in the mountains of free clans and she was grateful for every inch of cloth that kept her warm.

Unfortunately they were in the king’s mead hall with roaring fires. King Dakron was wearing nothing more than his leather boots, leather breeches and a leather belt that cross his bare chest from shoulder to waist. Usually it held a scabbard on his back that held his sword, but tonight it was purely decorative and Lysandre had trouble keeping her eyes off his muscular chest. Luckily there were many distractions in the mead hall for her eyes to wander to: the other half-naked men dressed in the same manner as their king, the roaring fire, the food, the flagons of strong drink, the musicians playing their rowdy tunes, and of course the completely naked serving slaves all of whom were attractive young women.

“You’re the first woman ambassador your kingdom has ever sent up here,” Dakron said as he took pieces of meat off the plate in front of him and chewed it. “Isn’t your king worried about you losing your virginity?” He laughed at his vulgar joke.

Lysandre smiled thinly. She had prepared herself for the rough manners of the clans; she was an ambassador after all. “I can assure you, King Dakron, neither my husband nor King Lyleton Mayben is worried about my virginity. I am a married woman.” She glanced at the man sitting next to her, Remmer Davi, her husband who was at the moment distracted by the alcohol in his cup and the slave girls parading by giving him enticing looks.

In her haste for a quick, sharp reply, Lysandre had given away more than she meant to. “You are related to your king?” he asked, his eyes glinting sharply.

Realizing her mistake, Lysandre tried to recover. She realized, too late, that she had been much more distracted by the sights and sounds set up by Dakron than she had initially thought. Still, she didn’t lie. As an ambassador a lie would only set up problems in the future. “Yes, the king draws from his family to fill important posts within the government.”

“How, exactly, Ambassador Lysandre Mayben, are you related to your king?”

She answered directly and honestly. “He is my father.”

In any other setting that information would have stopped the surrounding conversation. That didn’t happen in King Dakron’s mead hall. His men were too busy celebrating, the music was too loud, and the only one sitting at the table with the king, besides Lysandre and Remmer, was a naked slave girl with a metal collar around her neck to which was hook a chain that was attached to Dakron’s belt. The girl took no interest in the conversation. “So you will one day take his throne?” Dakron asked.

“Possibly. I have three other siblings, all of whom have equal claim to the throne. The Isles don’t follow strict patrilineal orders of succession.” Her smile was tight and constrained.

“And so your child might someday hold the throne if you do, or even if you do not if there is no other claimant or the current king declares a line of succession down to your descendants.” The short speech from Dakron revealed more about him.

“Where were you educated, King Dakron?” Lysandre asked sharply.

“The Monks of Minster maintain a monastery not far from here. My father hid me there for many years to keep me safe during our clans internecine warring. I learned much from the monks.”

“I see. It seems we both have secrets.” Lysandre took a sip from her flagon and tried not to wince at the strong liquid. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I came here to ask you and your tribes to stop raiding into lands owned by my kingdom and abducting our citizens into slavery.”

Dakron gestured at the slaves in his mead hall. “Do you see a single unhappy slave here?”

“No, I do not. But I’m more worried about the slaves working in the mines. The ones I don’t see. The ones who aren’t nubile young women.”

“I can’t control every one of the tribes,” said Dakron said with a broad gesture and smile.

“I don’t expect you to,” Lysandre said primly. “I expect you to control your tribe and not to commit acts of war on my country by stealing our citizens. You don’t want the power of the Island Army threatening your control of your tribe, do you?”

Dakron scratched at his beard. “Of course not! But it has always been the right of the clans to raid and prove their mettles over their neighbors. And you don’t want the expense of putting down a free tribe over a few relatively worthless farmers, do you?”

“We’re not at an impasse,” said Lysandre. “What can I do for you to extract a promise of ending your raise across the border?”

“I have an idea, but you’re not going to like it.”

Lysandre raised her eyebrows. “Let me hear your suggestion.”

“I want your pussy for a night,” he said boldly with a leer.

Lysandre picked up the sharp knife next to her plate. Using the two-pronged stabbing fork she pinned down the large piece of meat and carefully and deliberately sliced off a thin piece of the succulent flesh. After pulling the fork free of the meat she speared the thin slice and placed it daintily in her mouth where she chewed thoughtfully. Remmer, her husband, heard Dakron’s crude suggestion but said or did nothing. His expression didn’t change at all; he was confident in his wife’s abilities as a negotiator in this respect.

“It is a truth among your people, is it not,” said Lysandre after she swallowed her tasty morsel, “that a king’s worth is only as good as his word?”

“We often say that. I am not a liar.”

“You only want the opportunity to bed me because you hope to impregnate me and eventually scheme to have your offspring placed onto the Isle Throne,” she informed him.

“You are an intelligent woman.”

“It’s a risky scheme with a slim chance of success.”

“I know, but there is even less of chance of me ever taking the Isle Throne myself. I’d be satisfied with a son on the throne.”

Lysandre sliced off another piece of meat. “What about a daughter?” she asked.

Dakron was intrigued that he hadn’t been able to shock the ambassador. It made him like her even more. It also made him realize his scheme had a chance. And, if nothing else, he would have the opportunity to experience a new cunt that was above and beyond that of any member of his tribe would ever have. “If daughters can take the throne, then I’d be just as happy.”

“Your terms are acceptable,” she told him primly.

 

 

Chapter Two

A Wise Course of Action

 

After the feast, after the ambassador and spouse had returned to the rooms they had been given for the duration of their visit to King Dakron, Remmer turned to his wife. “Do you think this is a wise course of action?”

He carefully removed his white gloves and folded them together and then over his formal belt that held closed his royal blue jacket over his white trousers. It was almost impossible to remain neat and clean in the conditions lived in by the tribes, yet somehow Remmer managed to do it. Once his gloves were put away he loosened the collar to his jacket but did not remove it. The time to retire to bed was not yet on them and he anticipated there was much to come yet this night.

“Wise? Perhaps not, but I have forced Dakron into a position where we can bargain with him and control him.

Remmer looked askance at his wife as she inspected herself in the brass mirror that was in the bedroom. It wasn’t much but it gave her enough of an idea of her appearance. “Do you plan on going through with this insane plan of yours?”

“Yes. I’m not stupid, Rem. I’ll make him swear an oath in front of you and his lieutenants as to our agreement.”

“And you think that will be enough? Because I have my doubts about the situation.”

Remmer didn’t say a thing about his wife agreeing to have sex with a clan king in exchange for his promise not to raid into the Island Kingdom’s lands. That was the sort of thing he expected of his wife.

“Don’t be foolish, Rem. Of course it will be enough. Every story, ever saga, every legend the tribal people tell are all about lies and betrayal. A king who lies and doesn’t keep his word very shortly is no longer king.” A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Usually because he’s too short.”

Remmer blinked at her. “I’m sorry, what?”

“He’s too short. His rule is shortened.” She grinned broadly now as Remmer didn’t see her jest. “Because he’s beheaded.”

Before Remmer could react to her explanation, there was a knock at the door. He answered it. Normally that would have been a task for a servant, but he and Lysandre had come to the tribal lands without any servants. It was supposed to be a secret political mission.

In the timber framed doorway stood a naked slave. Remmer didn’t understand how they could so easily walk around naked, or more importantly with bare feet. His feet were encased in woolen socks and heavy boots and his feet were still cold. Except for her erect nipples the slave didn’t seem to be bothered by the chill in the air.

“Yes?” Remmer said a bit too curtly. It took him a moment but he then recognized the slave as the same girl who had been sitting next to King Dakron at the feast. He remembered the small mole on her left breast next to her nipple. He was then somewhat shocked to realize the slave was pregnant. There was a definite swell to her stomach that had been hidden by the table but was now very apparent in her naked and upright state.

“King Dakron would like to invite Ambassador Lysandre Mayben to his room for the night,” the slave said after brushing aside a few stray blond hairs from her face. She tilted her head slightly and added, “Along with anyone the ambassador would like to bring.”

Lysandre appeared at the door next to her husband. “Wonderful. Will you escort us there now?” she eagerly asked.

Remmer said nothing. He didn’t know the full extent of his wife’s scheming, but he opted to go along with her, as always.

“If you want,” the young woman said breathlessly.

“I very much indeed want that. I’ll also need at least one of his lieutenants there as well to swear a blood oath. Can you make that happen?” Lysandre asked as they stepped into the hall. The heels of their boots tapped an irregular tune on the great flat flagstone floor while the slave’s footsteps were silent.

“If that’s what Your Excellency wants, of course,” the slave responded.

“Yes, thank you,” said Lysandre. “If you don’t mind me asking, what is your name, girl?”

Only the formally polite members of the Island Kingdom would treat a slave with such politeness which confused the girl at first. “My name is Teo.”

“Just Teo?” asked Remmer. His common name was Remmer Davi but his full name was Lyston Talrea Windser Forrest Geophic Davi. His wife’s was twice as long owing to her greater pedigree.

“Yes. Just Teo.” The girl moved easily and smoothly down the hallway. Remmer’s eyes went to Teo’s swaying hips and buttocks. Lysandre noticed but didn’t say anything, what was the point? She did wonder, however, if Teo was intentionally trying to arouse Remmer or if it was just her nature as a slave. A pregnant slave no less.

“Who is the father of your child?” Lysandre asked, keeping the conversation casual as if she were having a polite chat in a tea room with other lords and ladies. But of course in a tea room everyone would already know the father of any pregnant lady.

“Dakron, of course,” she said with a smile over her shoulder. She swept aside her long blond hair and showed off her steel collar. Etched into the metal was the symbol of King Dakron. She half stumbled at the knitting of Lysandre’s dark eyebrows, as if she had just remembered something. “Or perhaps one of his retainers. He gave me as a prize in a celebration after a successful raid.” She smiled without shame. “It was after that feast that I fell pregnant. Dakron has had me the most of any other man, so he is the most likely father.” She paused in her steps. “Does it matter?”

“No, it does not,” said Lysandre as she stopped next to the slave girl. They were outside a heavy oak door where a single guard stood.

“We’re here,” Teo said and nodded to the guard who pushed the door open, admitting them. “I’ll go find who you need,” said Teo slipping aside.

Lysandre and Remmer entered with great confidence. Dakron’s personal quarters were exactly as Lysandre had predicted, right down to the piles of pillows and blankets on the floor, the warm fire in the fireplace, and the two naked slave girls entertaining Dakron as he sat on the one chair in the middle of the room. When they walked into the room Dakron looked up from where he had been watching one of his slave girls masturbating for his amusement. He grinned the confident grin that only a petty tyrant can have. “Thank you for joining me tonight,” he said as he pushed the girl in front of him aside and stood up.

“As if we had any choice,” Lysandre said stiffly.

“You can always change your mind,” Dakron replied with a twist of his lips.

Lysandre briefly glanced down at the bulge in the front of his leather breeches. “I am an ambassador for the Island Kingdom. My word is my bond.”

Dakron replied almost as formally. “I’m a king of the free clans. My word is my bond as well.”

“Then you won’t mind if I ask you for a blood oath?” she asked.

He laughed and nodded. “You’re no fool. I like that.”

“I’ve already asked Teo to bring your lieutenant. A quick blood oath will satisfy me.”

Dakron shook his head. “No. I want you to be part of the blood oath.” He fully expected her to refuse because ladies of the Isle Kingdom had a reputation of being shrinking violets.

Much to his surprise Lysandre said, “Of course.”

He pursed his lips. “The blood oath involves actual blood, Ambassador.”

“Then the name makes sense and isn’t just wild hyperbole,” she concluded.

That made Dakron laugh out loud. “Would you like a drink while we wait for Monge? I’m only half-drunk and I don’t like the feel of a knife of my skin unless I’m fully drunk.”

“I think I’d prefer the ceremony in a fully sober state,” said Lysandre. “It heightens the passion.”

“Ha! Well spoken! Remmer?” he asked Lysandre’s husband. “Mead or wine?”

“Wine, I think,” Remmer replied and was surprised when Dakron himself pulled a bottle off a stone shelf and poured him a cup. In that short amount of time the door opened to admit one of Dakron’s lieutenants along with the slave Teo. Remmer vaguely recognized the man from the celebration. He was burly and his bare chest was covered with blond, wiry hair and scars.

“Ready to witness a blood oath for your king, Monge?” Dakron said by way of greeting.

The warrior grunted. “As you command.” He pulled a knife from his belt and handed it hilt first to the king.

The blood oath was a simple ceremony. It only involved a verbal promise and the letting of blood. Dakron laid the edge of the blade on the back of his forearm. “By my honor I promise to stop all raids across the border into the Isle Kingdom’s lands if Ambassador Mayben gives me her pussy tonight.” It was short and direct and immediately after saying the words he drew the knife across his skin. The red liquid welled up and Dakron dabbed at the fresh cut with his finger and smeared the liquid on her lips. After that he handed the knife over to Lysandre.

He expected her to hesitate or faint or refuse. Instead, she handed the knife to her husband who held it gingerly between his fingers as Lysandre first removed her white gloves and unbuttoned the cuff of her left sleeve and pulled back the fabric to expose her skin. It was at the moment that Dakron realized he was seeing more skin on the woman than he had since the moment he met her. She took the knife back from her husband and drew it with confidence over the skin on her forearm. She winced at the pain, but the cut was sufficient. It bled freely and she touched the wound, getting blood on her finger, before saying, “By my honor I promise to give my pussy to King Dakron in exchange for his oath to stop raids into the lands of the Isle Kingdom.” She smeared the blood on her lips.