finger down my cheek. My whole body seemed to melt outwards from where he’d touched me. “Well,” he said, “you will receive some instruction, before you have to take part. But I think you might benefit from a little practical experience, hmm?”
He took my hand and led me to the covered area where he slept. I hardly felt the deck of the barge beneath my feet.
He had brought a mirror with him, of course; it stood on a gilded stand. I saw my face in it as he undressed me, my eyes wide and solemn.
I knew what went where, and that it was supposed to be an enjoyable experience; but otherwise I was ignorant as a calf. Daft with desire and drenched in Hap-Canae’s charisma, utterly stunned with delight at having been Chosen, not just as a priestess but as a lover, I thought it was all wonderful. I was used to feeling too tall, too broad in the shoulder, too big altogether, but compared to him, magnificent in his size and strength, I was fragile, delicate. He could flip me over with one hand.
Just the sight of his hands, the hands of an Avatar, of Hap-Canae, golden and glowing on my ordinary breasts, was enough to send great washes of feeling through me from nipples to groin. I hardly dared glance at his cock, but when he guided my hand to it and I felt it leap under my fingers, I almost fainted with pleasure. I’d done that. I’d made his body respond, to me .
And when he pushed inside me, I welcomed the pain, a willing martyr to desire. Later, I’d understand what pleasure was; that first time, all my joy was simply in having him inside me.
CHAPTER SIX
T HOUGH IT WAS only lunchtime, The Swamp was already busy, the smell of alcohol, fish and riverweed rolling into the street. Kittack looked up from wiping the bar and bared triangular teeth at me; he’s Ikinchli, and they’re basically lizards. It took me a while to get to the bar, excusing my way through a lot of scales and tails. Kittack serves stuff that I wouldn’t drink on a bet, but it’s very popular with some of the more reptilian bunch.
“Babylon.”
“Hey, Kittack.”
“You want a little my special beer? Put scale on your chest, hah?”
I glanced down at myself. “I’ve got enough on my chest to be going on with, thank you.”
Kittack flicked his tongue out at me. It’s dark blue, long, pointy, and very adept. “I remembers.”
“Me too. Put that tongue away before I forget what I came here for. You got a minute?”
He blinked at me, third eyelids pearling his eyes briefly. “Okay, we go back room.”
He hissed and clicked at his barmaid, a lamia with deep blue-green scales, hands like an angel and lamplight eyes. If she ever fancies the work, I’m offering her a job. She slid up to the bar and winked at me. “Keep him back there a while, I make twice the tips when he isn’t around.”
“No respect,” Kittack grumbled. We went into his ‘back room,’ which has heated stone benches and a small pool in the middle. Things swished and whirled in the water.
I settled myself, showed him the picture, and told him what I knew.
His cranial crest flicked up – not a good sign – then he went still. No-one can go more still than an Ikinchli. “Girl gone disappear. Why you ask me, Babylon?”
“Fain told me that these people come from the same place as you, Kittack. I just thought you might have heard something.”
“Who you been listening to?”
“I don’t get you.”
“You been hearing bad old stories?”
“Sorry, Kittack, I don’t know what you mean.”
“Stories from back home, about my people kidnap pretty girls for sacrifice to Old.”
The Old are sort of gods. Kittack’s sort of gods.
“I’ve heard nothing but what Fain told me.”
He flicked his tail. “Stories how the Old want pretty girls for make bouncy then cut head off. Waste of pretty girls, you ask me. Is all old foolishness from home.”
“Who made up these stories?”
“Gudain.” He tapped the portrait. “Master race, hah? Big
He took my hand and led me to the covered area where he slept. I hardly felt the deck of the barge beneath my feet.
He had brought a mirror with him, of course; it stood on a gilded stand. I saw my face in it as he undressed me, my eyes wide and solemn.
I knew what went where, and that it was supposed to be an enjoyable experience; but otherwise I was ignorant as a calf. Daft with desire and drenched in Hap-Canae’s charisma, utterly stunned with delight at having been Chosen, not just as a priestess but as a lover, I thought it was all wonderful. I was used to feeling too tall, too broad in the shoulder, too big altogether, but compared to him, magnificent in his size and strength, I was fragile, delicate. He could flip me over with one hand.
Just the sight of his hands, the hands of an Avatar, of Hap-Canae, golden and glowing on my ordinary breasts, was enough to send great washes of feeling through me from nipples to groin. I hardly dared glance at his cock, but when he guided my hand to it and I felt it leap under my fingers, I almost fainted with pleasure. I’d done that. I’d made his body respond, to me .
And when he pushed inside me, I welcomed the pain, a willing martyr to desire. Later, I’d understand what pleasure was; that first time, all my joy was simply in having him inside me.
CHAPTER SIX
T HOUGH IT WAS only lunchtime, The Swamp was already busy, the smell of alcohol, fish and riverweed rolling into the street. Kittack looked up from wiping the bar and bared triangular teeth at me; he’s Ikinchli, and they’re basically lizards. It took me a while to get to the bar, excusing my way through a lot of scales and tails. Kittack serves stuff that I wouldn’t drink on a bet, but it’s very popular with some of the more reptilian bunch.
“Babylon.”
“Hey, Kittack.”
“You want a little my special beer? Put scale on your chest, hah?”
I glanced down at myself. “I’ve got enough on my chest to be going on with, thank you.”
Kittack flicked his tongue out at me. It’s dark blue, long, pointy, and very adept. “I remembers.”
“Me too. Put that tongue away before I forget what I came here for. You got a minute?”
He blinked at me, third eyelids pearling his eyes briefly. “Okay, we go back room.”
He hissed and clicked at his barmaid, a lamia with deep blue-green scales, hands like an angel and lamplight eyes. If she ever fancies the work, I’m offering her a job. She slid up to the bar and winked at me. “Keep him back there a while, I make twice the tips when he isn’t around.”
“No respect,” Kittack grumbled. We went into his ‘back room,’ which has heated stone benches and a small pool in the middle. Things swished and whirled in the water.
I settled myself, showed him the picture, and told him what I knew.
His cranial crest flicked up – not a good sign – then he went still. No-one can go more still than an Ikinchli. “Girl gone disappear. Why you ask me, Babylon?”
“Fain told me that these people come from the same place as you, Kittack. I just thought you might have heard something.”
“Who you been listening to?”
“I don’t get you.”
“You been hearing bad old stories?”
“Sorry, Kittack, I don’t know what you mean.”
“Stories from back home, about my people kidnap pretty girls for sacrifice to Old.”
The Old are sort of gods. Kittack’s sort of gods.
“I’ve heard nothing but what Fain told me.”
He flicked his tail. “Stories how the Old want pretty girls for make bouncy then cut head off. Waste of pretty girls, you ask me. Is all old foolishness from home.”
“Who made up these stories?”
“Gudain.” He tapped the portrait. “Master race, hah? Big
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