I owe everyone who has been waiting for Bounda big apology. It’s taken 5 times as long as it should have to get it done. As of yesterday I scrap a lot of what I had and busted the story back down to less then 5000 words. Moregone and his heroine Aketa are great, and they (and you) deserve a great story. What I’d written descended into bondage-sex-drive-plotless-dog-poo. Rather than have Kate, editor extraordinaire, tell me it was dog poo, I scrapped it myself.
I’m basically back at square one.
Moregon, Part 4
Copyright (c) Lila Dubois 2007. This is unedited, and I am an infamously bad self editor, so read at your own risk.
Recap: It is the night before Moregon is to begin his service as the newest Zinah. He cannot sleep and so goes out into the garden, where Challia, a pretty young woman whom had plans to wed him, has stripped in the moonlight and is preparing to do many, very dirty, things to the virgin Moregon.
***
“Now it’s your turn.” She smiled and reached for his cock.
Both hands came around him again, and then she took the straining head, flushed with his desire for her, into the warmth of her mouth. The softness of her lips and tongue was exquisite.
She held him in her lips and let her tongue play over his cock, pleasuring him.
Her hands pulsed around him, squeezing him rhythmically the way one would milk a cow’s teat.
She played with him, testing him, watching him from beneath veiling lashes, listening to his moans to gage his reaction.
Soon his hips began to lift up. Challia moved away as he lifted.
“No,” he pleaded, “I want to be deeper in your mouth.”
“Oh,” Challia removed one of her hands, keeping the other fisted at the base of his cock. She brushed her hand over the lower part of his belly, playing with his belly button, poking her fingers into the small indentation.
“Please, Challia.”
She settled her mouth around him once again. This time her head pushed down, her mouth enveloping his cock until her lips met her hand. Her mouth was hot and wet around him, her lips soft as she pulled away.
Her mouth released him, and once more Moregon raised his hips to the sky, seeking her touch. Challia squeezed him, using her hold on his cock to force his hips down.
“Challia, please.”
Rather then taking him back into her mouth she played with him. Holding his cock upright with one hand she stroked him with the other, rubbing his swollen skin over the hard flesh beneath. Her fingertips wiggled over the winking eye in the tip of his cock, spreading the pre-cum that began to leak from him.
Moregon’s fingers pressed against the stone beneth him, his hips pumping in small hard strokes, lifting him lower abdomen off the ground.
When she bent to take him in one more, her mouth seemingly hot as a furnace after the night air had cooled him, Moregon cried out piteously.
Her lips sang down to meet her hand, and she began to suck, drawing on him in hard pulls. He was so ready, so close.
He was slick with her spit and his own moisture, allowing her seal lips to slide up and down his hard length.
It took only a few bobs of her head for his to reach climax. His jaw clenched tight, back arching up. He seed spurted into her mouth, filling what little space w as not taken up by his cock. She held him, sucking, as his orgasm subsided.
Moregon opened his eyes, which he’d squeezed shut in his orgasm. Challia sat up, her lips curled in a smile, as satisfied as a cat.
Unbelievable grateful he pushed himself into a sitting position with arms that shook. He reached out to her, intending her pull her close, but Challia moved away.
“No, Moregon, you may not touch me, ever again. You could have had me, and I would have sucked you every day, but you lost all that when you chose become a Zinah.”
“It is not a choice Challia, you know that.”
“You did not protest. You should have told them that you were going to marry me, and couldn’t serve the Temple.”
“It is an honor to be chosen and to serve the Temple. There is no agreement of marriage between us, to say otherwise would have been a lie.”
“Fine. I hope you enjoy your servitude.” Challia, voice thick with anger and tears, pulled her nightgown back on. “But remember this, no woman has ever been able to temp one of the Zinahs to pleasure her, and I know why.”
She leaned in close, her voice now dripping with malicious enjoyment. “The Priestess cuts off the balls of the Zinahs, makes them eunuchs.”
She pushed to her feet. “I hope you enjoyed the feeling of cuming, Moregon, for it will be the last time you ever do so.”
Challia left Moregon sitting in the garden, hands protectively cupped over his privates.
Moregon, Part 3
Copyright (c) Lila Dubois 2007. This is unedited, and I am an infamously bad self editor, so read at your own risk.
Recap: It is the night before Moregon is to begin his service as the newest Zinah. He cannot sleep and so goes out into the garden, where Challia, a pretty young woman whom had plans to wed him, has stripped in the moonlight and is preparing to do many, very dirty, things to the virgin Moregon.
***
“Moregon, you must lie back if I am to suck your cock.”
He stared at her and his cock, wrapped in her hand, jerked at her words.
“Don’t you want me to take you in my mouth?”
“Aye.” Moregon lay back, looking up at the sky.
His emotions, normally so placid, had been in upheaval since he learned he was to be the fifth Zinah, and Challia’s words and actions were not helping. As disconcerting as he might find her, she embodied the normal life he would loose when he became a Zinah. Challia was home and heart, wife and mother. Moregon’s life would hold great responsibility and honor, but he would never marry or have children.
All his worries, indeed, all rational thought, fled under her hand and tongue on his cock.
“More,” he begged, not himself knowing what he wanted, unable to tell her what would please him beyond simply, more.
She understood what he did not, and wrapped his long cock securely in both hands, holding him upright and tight as she lapped at the head.
Her hair brushed his legs and belly as she leaned lower, encompassing just the head of his cock in her mouth. With her lips sealed around him she sucked, cheeks hallowing with the effort. Moregon arched his hips up, pleasure racing through him like liquid fire.
“Did you like that?”
“Yes, oh yes.”
“I’m glad.”
Challia gave him a teasing lick and then released his cock.
“Please, please don’t stop.” He didn’t mean to beg, didn’t want to, but at that moment he would give anything to feel her sucking on him again.
“I want you to touch me first.”
Challia, kneeling at his right hip, spread her legs, inviting him to touch. Moregon tilted his head on the stones, craning to look. He could see the pink of her sex just below the blond curls, and those few curls that graced her sex itself glistened in the moonlight.
Moregon curled his big hand around the inside of her thigh. He almost pulled away, for the soft pliancy of her skin was intimidating, but his desire to touch what she offered was to great.
He slid his hand up, rotating his wrist so that he cupped her whole sex, his big hand pressing flat up against her. Her body was warm and wet against his palm as his fingers settled into the crevice of her ass.
His fingers gently explored her, playing over the lips of her sex. When the petals parted Moregon jerked his hand away, terrified he’d broken her, but Challia pulled his hand back, holding herself open with two fingers to show him it was alright.
As she held the lips of her sex open Moregon rubbed his fingertips over her, finding a second set of lips and then finally the entrance to her body. He teased around the entrance, a primal urge to shove his fingers inside her, then throw her down and push his cock into her, thrumming through his veins.
But he could not marry her, and so would not take her virginity. He pulled his fingers away from the entrance to her body and continued rubbing them over her, spreading the soft cream that her body produced over every inch of her sex. One spot near the top seemed to be particularly pleasing to her.
Moregon kept his fingers at the top of her sex, three fingertips rubbing and pressing, when Challia suddenly threw her head back, panting and moaning.
“Yes oh yes, Please, right there, right there.”
Watching her body ripple and pant in pleasure, her upturned breasts highlighted by the silver moonlight, her nipples dark with pleasure, Moregon continued moving his fingers. He had no idea what he was doing, but she seemed to like it.
Challia shuddered, her mouth open, though no sound emerged, and jerked away from his hand. She sat back on her heels, one hand snaking between her legs to cup her pulsing sex.
He watched as she calmed. Moregon knew that he’d brought her to completion, but wondered what would happen now. His own cock had started to ache. Watching her had heightened his arousal and the need for release, for an end to the pressure, was paramount in his mind.
“Thank you, Moregon.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Now it’s your turn.” She smiled and reached for his cock.
Moregon, Part 2
Copyright (c) Lila Dubois 2007. This is unedited, and I am an infamously bad self editor, so read at your own risk.
Recap: It is the night before Moregon is to begin his service as the newest Zinah. He cannot sleep and so goes out into the garden, where a pretty young woman approaches him.
***
“You’ve broken my heart.”
The nightdress fluttered to the floor, and the knees he’d been so diligently studying were bare in the moonlight.
“And now you must mend it.
“I what?” he yelped. Moregon wanted to look up into her face but was aware that doing so would necessitate him getting a long look at her naked body. The idea of Challia naked was enough to make him blush, let alone actually seeing it.
“You’ve broken my heart Moregon.”
“I did not mean to. I did not know I had.”
“We were meant to wed.”
“Nothing was ever arranged.”
“It was logical, you are the strongest warrior, and I the most beautiful maid.” Her confidence and arrogance was both irritating and arousing.
“Challia, put your robe back on.”
“Nae. I would taste you before the Priestess steals you away.”
“Taste me?” His voice has risen, cracking, painfully reminiscent of a few years ago when his changing voice had been so embarrassing Moregon had nearly stopped speaking.
“Don’t you want to touch me?”
“It is wrong to do so. I cannot wed you, I am bound to serve the Temple.”
“But not yet.”
She knelt and Moregon dropped his gaze to his knees.
“Please look at me.”
“Challia, you should go. No good can come of this.”
“I don’t care, I want to feel you touch me, at least once. Won’t you even look at me?” He slender hands, slightly rough from her work as a basket weaver, cupped his face, tilting it up. Moregon kept his lids lowered and then darted his gaze to hers.
She had a pretty face, always had. Blonde hair, much like his own, fell in straight lines on either side of her face.
“I made no promise to you Challia.”
“I know, but you would have, once you got up the courage.”
He was shocked by her arrogant assumption and the insult she’d delivered him, for Moregon prided himself on his courage. He was too startled to pull away when she leaned in and kissed him.
She didn’t notice that he wasn’t responding to the kiss, and her lips moved to his neck, pecking down to his shoulder.
Her fingers wrapped over his wrists, uncrossing his arms, and bringing his hands to bump against her breasts.
He wanted to be good, to do the right thing and send her away, but he felt her pebble hard nipples against his knuckles and Moregon caved. Self-control only went so far.
He opened his hands to her breasts, cupping them and squeezing. She gasped against his shoulder and Moregon started to pull his hands away.
“No, don’t stop, I like it.”
Moregon, young enough that he cared more that she’d say he didn’t have to stop than that she enjoyed it, enthusiastically squeezed her again.
He nudged her to sit up, wanting to see his hands on her breasts. In the moonlight his sun bronzed hands looked black against the pure white of her breasts. He squeezed once more and the flesh swelled between his fingers.
Still holding her breasts he looked down at the apex of her thighs. The tilt of her body kept her sex in shadow.
“Moregon, I want to see you.”
“You’re looking at me now.”
“No, down there.” She pointed to where his cock had tented his drawers.
The idea of the pretty Challia seeing him, maybe touching him, was enough to have his cock twitching.
“If you wish.”
“I do.”
She reached down for the ties. Moregon wondered if he should remove his hands from her breasts, but decided that he wouldn’t until she asked him too. He did so like breasts.
The ties came loose under her fingers and Moregon felt the planets move when she reached in and cupped him.
Holding his cock with one hand, the other tugged his garment off, pulling it as far down his thighs as his spread legs would allow.
He looked down at her fingers wrapped around him, and Moregon could not decide if he found the sight of him holding her breasts, or her hand around his cock, more exciting.
“It is very hard.” She gave him a testing squeezing. Her hands were strong from his work and Moregon nearly yelped at the strength of her grip. “Oh, sorry. Did I hurt you?”
“Nae, it feels very good.”
“My sister said, that when a man and woman do not want to have a baby there is a way for them to pleasure each other, without the woman getting with child.”
“What did she say?”
“That if I were to take you in my mouth your seed would not find root in my belly.”
Moregon shivered at her words. He too had heard tell of this practice.
“Do you like that? I don’t know how so you will have to help me.”
“I, I have never done it either. I have never… touched anyone.”
She smiled, and there was a sly note to it. “I thought and hoped that.” Pushing against Moregon’s shoulder she tried to put him on his back but he just stared at her, a bit disconcerted by her words and tone.
“Have you touched anyone else?” he asked.
“Just Maon, he kissed me and then played with my breasts.”
Moregon was unexpectedly hurt at her words. If she so loved him that his leaving was breaking her heart then how is it that she had let another touch her?
“Moregon, you must lie back if I am to suck your cock.”
Moregon, Part 1
Copyright (c) Lila Dubois 2007. This is unedited, and I am an infamously bad self editor, so read at your own risk.
This story takes place as Moregon is chosen to be the fifth and final Zinah, several years before the start of Forbidden.
***
It was an honor to be chosen.
To serve the Temple was to bring great honor to his family. From the moment of his birth, all who saw Moregon said he was destined to be a warrior, and he’d grown up wearing the burden of those expectations as a mantle across his board shoulders.
But this honor was beyond dreams, a chance so rare and fleeting that none dared even hope for it.
The claiming of the Zinahs was an activity that consumed the people of the Temple. For the past year they had waited and watched as the old Priestess stepped down and the Handmaiden rose to take her place. Trepidation had claimed all hearts, for the new Priestess took her place in the Goddess’s service with only four Zinahs.
Five were needed, and five there had been since the Dark War. With five there was no question of the power, or superiority, of the Temple and its army. A millennia ago, five strong warriors, noble sons each, cast away their lives and futures to bond with the remaining child of the dead High King and Queen. They six vowed to fight back against the darkness that claimed the Palace. With the Goddess blessed Temple as their sanctuary, and a burning desire to protect their families and the life they had known, the Priestess and first Zinahs created a new world order from the ashes of the old.
That time was long past, though the battle between Temple and Palace raged on.
Moregon stripped off his leather armor and tunic below, naked to the waist. Setting his armor on a stood by the side of the house he bent over the water trough and splashed water on himself.
A chorus of giggles had him looking up. He caught a glimpse of wide eyes and bright ribbons before the gigglers ducked out of view.
“Go on! Get out of here.” The scolding feminine voice came from behind Moregon.
The girls yelped and fled, darting out from around the edge of the house where they’d been hiding. They ran away, contrition at having been caught evaporating in their delight at having seen the newest Zinah.
“They are always around.”
Moregon’s mournful complaint had his mother laughing. A hale and strong woman, still young though she had children full grown, Avna shared looks with her son. Both had the golden sun-kissed sun common to the people of the Great City with blond hair. Moregon stood a head above his mother. Avna was tall for a woman, and Moregon was a giant, taller than many of the other warriors, with shoulders of matching breadth.
Avna handed Moregon a drying cloth, which he accepted with a murmured “Thank You,” passing it over his wet face and chest. She gathered his shirt and armor, waving him away when Moregon made move to take it from her.
“Let me do this from you. Soon I will not be able to care for you anymore.”
“I will still see you, Maman.”
“It will not be the same. Once they come for you tomorrow, take you away, everything will be different.”
Her words kept him awake long into the night. The moons were well up, halfway through their nightly trek across the sky, when he slipped from his bed.
Though he made good money as a warrior in the Temple army he lived with his parents still. Life was hard in the Great City, and while it was better to live within the Temple’s sheltering walls, there was very little space to house all those who had sought refuge there.
He stepped over the cot his little brothers shared and picked his way down the stairs and out of the house. Not wanting wake anyone he didn’t both dressing, and emerged into the moonlight clad only in loose knee length drawers.
Around the back of the house was a small garden, a luxury of space few others could claim. This small plot of land, blessed as it was by the touch of the Goddess, provided enough green food to feed his family.
Two paths of paving stones made a cross through the center of the garden, with numerous small paths barely wide enough for his foot, providing access to the plants.
He stopped to check the cabbage and examine the leafy tops of carrots. Judging from the length of the above ground stalks there was still more growing to do before the carrots were plump enough to pull.
Moregon settled himself on the stones where the paths crossed, the only place in the garden large enough for him to sit.
He tilted his head to the sky, offering up a simple warrior’s prayer to the Goddess that she might watch over him as he moved down this new path his life had taken.
A breeze rose up, causing the tall stalks of lavender beside him to sway, brushing against his arm, like a lover’s touch. Had he been a fanciful man, one who believed that the Goddess was anything more than a far off deity, he would have said it was the goddess, reassuring him through the touch of a simple plant.
The wind also brought the sounds of the night, and one sound that was out of place.
“Moregon?”
Standing at the edge of the garden was a slim maid, the curve of breast, belly and hip exposed as the wind pressed her thin dress against her body. She was older than that afternoon’s admierers, and wore the body of a girl just able to claim womanhood.
Embarrassed at his state of undress Moregon awkwardly folded his arms over his chest.
“Yes? Who goes there?”
“It’s Challia.”
She moved into the garden, light footed and sure. When she stopped before him Moregon kept his eyes on her knees.
“You’ve broken my heart.”
The nightdress fluttered to the floor, and the knees he’d been so diligently studying were bare in the moonlight.
“And now you must mend it.”
