Daemon & Sunny Ch. 05

Author's Note: KatLady, please contact me at my new email--I can't help it if my castle is one giant Portkey with an unknown activation sequence (damned house-elves)! I am also not responsible for half the hot-tub contents sloshing out during the sudden jolt of Portation... Anyway, at least you and your fellow Mob of Irate Laser-Wielding Fans should be happy; I'm updating this thing a lot sooner than anticipated...and actually working on finishing the rest of it! ~Lotm

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It was hideous. Confirming Ambassador Crellan's opinion that the new king of Astorra was not up to being more than a barely adequate king. First his admission that his duties were swamping him so much he needed to wait until the first post-coronation rush passed to study the tariff-lowering treaty, then his admission that part of the problem was his spending so much time with his new concubine, a distraction no Ruyikan ruler worth his weight in Occampan pearls would have admitted, let alone permitted. And now this...this personal display of utterly bad taste in gift-giving.

Crellan wasn't even surewhat the object was, other than it was raggedly, asymmetrically, approximately three feet tall, writhed this way and that, was made of gilded, glossed ceramic, and sported exaggeratedly endowed, naked women wrapped in—of all things—frogs and snakes in all the strategic places. None of them in anything very close to a 'natural' shade for their coloring. There were openings that looked like they could be used as vase mouths for flowers, but they were shaped like lamprey mouths, replete with gilded, glazed rings of 'teeth' in an undercoat of dull and murky versions of mustard, from yellowish to brownish, all on a dull, pale beige background. And there were a trio of arching, eel-like fish that looked rather phallic, except they had serrated fins on their backs and under their arched bellies, and that ruined them for handles, if that had been their purpose for being a part of the...thing.

That was not all there was, though, on the almost sublimely hideous sculpture.Zeerdorqs, with their six legs and three snakes springing symbolically from between each pair of legs, cavorted here and there among the disproportioned women and frogs. What one of thezeerdorqs was doing to one of the fish, making the whole piece look even more lopsided, the ambassador did not want to know.

"Lord Ambassador." One of his entourage servants bowed low before him, thankfully providing a distraction. "Our Queen summons you to speak."

Grateful to leave the hideous thing out of his sight, he entered his private chamber and sat down in front of the private communications relay smuggled into the suite for secure, coded conversations. The message, travelling through nilspace, a place so small that all messages were instantaneous, but too small for ships to travel through, took no time at all to switch from the holding pattern to the face of Queen Astrida the moment the machine had scanned his thumbprint and genetic code.

"Your Celestial Sovereignty. How shall I serve you?"

"Report. The treaty?"

"He says that he is overwhelmed by the duties of his new office, Sovreign," Lord Crellan offered, eyes lowered in deference to her sanctity. "My observation is that this may very well be true. The concubine-slave I purchased for him is occupying more of his attention than is prudent, though I have observed that Astorran men are more...vigorous than most. But he should have more self-control to be a successful ruler. He also has...poor taste in his gift of appreciation for our gift of the slave, another indication that his judgement may not be as keen as that of his predecessors."

"What you tell me is not encouraging. Tell me something encouraging, Lord Ambassador," Queen Astrida ordered him. When he chanced the briefest of glances up, her eyes, the only part of her visible from behind her disguising coif and veil, were not angry. Yet.

He did his best to keep them from turning angry. "Celestial Sovreign, he has admitted the treaty idea is interesting, which is far more than his brother or father considered it. Their refusals were outright and blunt, as were my discreet probings into a potential marriage-alliance between our realm and theirs. And that brings me to my second encouragement, my Queen."

"That would be...?"

"The first night after his coronation, King Daemon was supposed to be introduced to eligible young women. Noblewomen from Astorra from the most part, but there were some princesses from within and from without his kingdom. The banquet and ball have been set back, and will occur in three weeks from now. At that time, he will be expected to start selecting his future queen. If your Celestiality were to propose a royal visit to coincide with this event..."

"I could present my suit more directly..." She considered his suggestion. "Arrange it, Lord Crellan. Make sure my arrival is timed to arrive just a little before this ball, so that I am fresh in his mind when I am presented again at it. Will there be any other eligible queens attending?"

"Not as far as I've heard, Sovreign."

"I will have no one disrupt my standing. Make sure no others of my rank attend."

He bowed to her as she ended the connection. Her last request would be extremely difficult to fulfill, but Crellan had enough spies in the palace proper still that could get their hands on the guest list for him. He didn't think any other queens eligible for marriage would be attending, but he would have to make sure. Queen Astrida was not known for her tolerance of mistakes, especially not if she felt her status as a queen was being slighted.

Tovedd

"The only thing I will pay for the information I want is yourlife," Ragor snarled, the humming, jeweled vibroknife in his hands threatening to touch the slave master's throat. "The slave woman, Sundrea Dannonee—who did you sell her to?"

"I'm afraid I can't remember any Dannonee," the slavemaster countered.

Ragor pressed his knife in, touching the very edge of the blade to the other man's throat. The flesh parted with very little pressure and started bleeding. "Try again—slave, describe her!"

"She was there when you bought me, twenty-five or so days ago. Five foot six, aquamarine eyes, dark auburn hair, and freckles," Saunders recited, glad it wasn't his throat that knife was at. The sooner the Matrix was found, the sooner he would have his freedom.

The slaver blinked. "The woman with the freckles, the Craidan?"

"That's her," Saunders confirmed.

"I sold her for eighty times her worth, to an ambassador. Lord Crellan of Ruyikan. He mentioned something about giving her as a concubine gift for a coronation."

"Who did he give her to?"

"I have no idea. But there aren't that many kings being crowned every day that have a culture that accepts concubines. Check back over the past month, and you should find her." He eyed the pirate's thoughtful expression. "That is all I know. Now, you can either leave, and we can resume our normal business association, or I can release this button under my desk, here, and let the robot blasters drop down out of the ceiling and fry you to Imperial ash."

Ragor removed his knife. He even pulled out a scrap of cloth from his clothes and passed it over to be pressed into the other man's cut. "Next time, answer my questions more quickly."

"Next time, ask ones that give me enough information to answer. And next time, expect to pay...or expect to die. If you had not given me pleasure this day, you would be dead."

To Saunder's hastily concealed shock, the slave-trader's left hand was palming the ridge tenting up from his lap.The man is aroused by a vibroknife to the neck? Not for the first time, he silently cursed his capture. Not for the first time, Saunders imagined with vicious detail what he would do to his captor, and the slave-merchant, for making him a slave.No, wait, the merchant would probably enjoy it too much...

The self-proclaimed pirate king grinned, heading for the door. "Always a pleasure doing business with you, Obrian."

The grunt that came from the merchant was something that stained the mind and the ears. "...Ohhh, yes. And you, Ragor."

"Come, slave. Your freedom still waits."

"Yes, Master."

Astorra Prime

"Sunny... Sunny...Sunny!"

Sunny jerked out of her reverie with a blink, looking over to find Daemon standing next to her desk. She'd lost track of the time here in her study. Flipping over her datapad in her hands, she tossed it face-down on the desk and stood, reaching for the buttons on her gown.

To her surprise, Daemon shook his head slightly, and reached for the datapad. She put her hand on top of it before he could pick it up, her bodice half undone.

Her palm concealed the subject matter, which was an accounting of the daily life of the Emperor and Empress; the action seemed too carefully placed, to Daemon's thinking. He looked up at her. "What were you looking at?"

"Nothing." She knew his curiosity would get the better of him.

He looked up at her, lifting one eyebrow.

"...Nothing you'd be interested in," his Consort clarified with a dismissive shrug. "Just something I'm doing to occupy my time."

Daemon arched the other brow as well. "Maybe I should start asking you whatyou do each day when I'm not around."

He was actually interested in her own life? That was an encouraging sign. Sunny smiled and sat back down, pulling the datapad into her lap and not saying a word.

"Well?"

"I'm waiting to be...interrogated," she smirked, thinking of all the questions she'd asked him through the past few weeks, of how she'd asked them, and how she'd rewarded him for all of his answers.

He considered her semi-cryptic comment, considered the implications, then strolled around the corner of her desk and nodded at its surface. "Why don't you sit there, and I'll sit in the chair?"

"Why?" she asked, bemused by the odd request.

"Because that way, I can do to you what you usually do to me when you're interrogating me about my day."

Sunny popped up onto the desk before his last word, unbuttoning the rest of her gown.

Urging her hands away, Daemon completed the task for her, sat down between her parted, bared thighs, and smiled up at her. "So...tell me about your day."

"Well, it started the same way it's started for two weeks, now. Someone ravished me in my sleep."

"Mm-hmm." That was all he deigned to say, since most of his mouth was already otherwise occupied. Sunny wondered briefly just how much good weather they would be in for, and went on, shifting her hips forward and her thighs even wider.

"Not that I minded—I'll admit it's a stimulating way to wake up. Anyway, after you left, I had breakfast here in thesaeda, got dressed, took some of the lessons Armon keeps insisting I need in concubinage, had my usual three-hour pampering session...mmm, like that...went to see you, then had lunch, and I wasstarved after all that exercising," she added comically, causing him to grin up at her before returning to his ministrations, "Then I attended class at the Imperial University here in the capitol—"

"—You're attending classes there? Who authorized that?" Daemon demanded, his heart clenching in undefined panic. If she was wandering about the city, she was exposed to all sorts of opportunities to escape...and to leave him.

"I did; I read the Consort's employment charter, and I'm perfectly free to continue my education. Of course, I had to have Armon's help, since he had to arrange the scheduling of thesaeda guards and the hoverlimo to transport and accompany me. I'm working on my doctorate," Sunny added, lifting the datapad. "Since you're paying me a really decent salary, I can finally afford to take my last few credits. I finish this one course, hand in my thesis—which I've finally settled on, since that was one of the few things holding me back—and I graduate with my Ph.D. in Imperium History. Luckily it's mostly an independent-study course, with some revolving roundtable lectures to attend; I'm just a couple weeks from completing it, actually."

Daemon looked up at her, puzzled. "That's it? You're just studying for your doctorate?"

"Mm-hmm." His half-concealed panic was kind of cute.

Another worry struck Daemon. "What are you going to do with your doctorate, once you have it?"

"I was thinking of using all that knowledge to help me in my next job."

"You have a job. Afull time job," he reminded her, standing up between her knees, "as my Consort."

"Technically, I've got lots of time in between being summoned by you," Sunny pointed out. "Ideally, I'd like to use my knowledge of the Imperium to advise some Court somewhere, after I've graduated."

"The only person you will advise isme," Daemon asserted, unfastening his pants and pulling her possessively close. "Is that clear?"

Sunny smiled as he pressed into her, literally driving his point home into her well-moistened flesh. He was playing right into her hands. Well, right into her grasp "Then I'll see you each morning in Court and Council—each one alternating every other day, right?"

Daemon stilled, wrapped deep inside of her. "You did that deliberately!"

She squeezed around him Ruyikan-style to reward him, still smiling. "Mm-hmm. We have a pact; I will be your advisor, as well as your concubine...and you will either like it, or go sodder yourself."

"Ohhh... I'm going to have to remind you of who's the king, and the one in charge around here," he warned her, pushing her down onto her desk, taking the datapad from her hand and tossing it to the edge of the desk to get it out of their way. Carefully, of course; he didn't want to damage the unit and undo her hard work. Her sheer intelligence was one of the things that fascinated him, after all.

"I'm a Free Citizen, and the equal of any king," Sunny challenged right back, and caught her breath as he surged into her, hard and dominant. It was difficult, but she managed to not smile too smugly. She hoped.

"I'm your master," he asserted, thrusting rhythmically into her. "You'll do as I say."

She squeezed him hard, making him gasp and buck uncontrollably under the incredible, damp tightness. "Uh-uh. You'remy love-slave...I controlyou."

"Yes...Sunny!"

Shuddering, Daemon collapsed over her. A corner of his mind wondered dazedly if he should release her from the last dregs of her enslavement, as he'd silently promised himself to do, the day she got him to admit that she'd enslaved him, too. Another part of him clenched desperately, possessively, against the thought of her being free to walk away from him. Hedidn't want her to leave him...not when he was just getting to know more than just her body.

It didn't help that another vision had danced through his head at the moment of his climax. He kept seeing great black and white serpents, the mark of the Imperium, though they weren't yet entwined in the ouroboros ring.Why did he keep seeing the Imperial Dragons, every once in a while?

...They twined again, the White and the Black. Closer to completion, closer to the Circle. Closer to the glory of the Matrix thrumming in their sinuous veins...

Heads swivelled in surprise, as the Council doors opened one more time, just as the session was about to start.

"...Sunny?" Daemon stared at her. She strode into the Council chamber, a satchel slung over her shoulder that clattered faintly with the sound of several datacrystals where it bumped against her hip, clad in a pale seafoam green Astorran gown, about the same color as his surprised eyes. The mass of her hair had been twisted up into a knot at the back of her head, with artful little tendrils curling down here and there.

"Good morning, Your Majesty. Councillors." With a no-nonsense stride, she came around the side of the oval table and inserted herself between Lord Estoll and Lady Magray, the Grand Chamberlain and Secretary of Education, respectively, a few seats to Daemon's left. Signalling for a chair, she sat down as soon as one was brought, pulled out her datapad, and smiled at everyone.

"Your Majesty, what is your Consort doing here?" Estoll demanded. "She should be in thesaeda, where she belongs!"

Daemon, about to demand the same thing, remembered their conversation from last night, and took offense at his Grand Chamberlain's tone. "Ms. Dannonee is an expert on the Imperium. She is here as one of my advisors."

They had a pact, between them—and if she found satisfaction in her work as an advisor to him here, she would have that much more of a reason to remain here, with him.If she likes being my advisor, I might be willing to free her, on the promise that she stays to advise me and love me every day... It was one potential way of keeping her firmly at his side.

"This is highly irregular!" one of the other Councillors exclaimed, as the rest exchanged bemused looks.

"On the contrary...Lady Mestria, is it?" Sunny asked. Armon had been very helpful, providing her with a list of names and faces of all the Council members, coaching her into memorizing them over breakfast and the selection of a suitably business-like outfit. "There have been many instances in which a concubine has been included on Astorra's Royal Council. Some were Councillors who caught the eye of the king...and some were concubines who were given their Astor-granted right to use their brains as well as their bodies."

"You're not Astorran."

"No, but I am a fresh perspective. Only a fool would turn down a fresh perspective, and from what I've heard from His Majesty about his Council members, I do not recall any of you being named a fool."

Daemon spoke before anyone else could challenge her mild replies. Her presence might become a distraction...but if it made her feel useful, it might keep her by him that much more, and that was worth any distraction—though he did like the fact that she put the sometimes grating Estoll between the two of them. "We're wasting time, Ladies, Lords. The first item for discussion is flood relief funds for the northern continent on Manquin III..."

When the meeting was over, three hours later, Daemon lingered at the table as everyone else got up and left. Almost everyone. He tossed down his stylus and datapad and looked over at his newest advisor. She was marking something down on her own datapad. A gesture from him, and the guards closed the doors behind the last Lord out, leaving the two of them alone.

"You did very well. You kept your comments to your area of expertise."

"Thank you. Of course I did," Sunny added, making a last notation and saving it before turning off the datapad. "I'm not an idiot who tries to advise in areas where others clearly have more knowledge."

She met his gaze, the corners of both their mouths quirked up, and Daemon laughed. "—Lord Stevan!"

"Exactly—if ever a man deserved a gag for pomposity! Why do you put up with him?" she demanded, laughing with him.

"He may be an old windbag, but he's a genius when it comes to interplanetary Agriculture." Daemon eyed her. The slit on her Astorran-styled gown was on his side, giving him an excellent view of her creamy thigh and its freckled, spiraled striping. "You know...I think there might be an advantage to you joining me each morning for Council and Court."

"Oh?"

"Think of the extra time we'll have for lovemaking if I don't have to wait for you to be brought to me."

"Hmm." Sunny pretended to ponder that for a moment, then leered lasciviously at him, rising from her seat. As he twisted his chair to face her, she unbuttoned her gown, unfastened the front closure of her bra, and parted the crotch-seam on the adjustable hosiery Armon had given her to wear—something to keep her thighs from chafing, yet allowing full access to all the pertinent areas. He was just as quick in following her lead, unfastening his own clothing. Straddling his lap, she sighed blissfully as she sank onto his erection. "Then we'd better not waste a minute."