Wicked Empress: The Onic Empire, Book 4 Read Online Free PDF

within. Lost in her gaze, he couldn’t stop her even if he wanted to. This perverted act was what had cost him his name. He now let her do it because none from his tribe would ever know.
    As she held him in her mouth, she slid her hand up, behind his sac, past the sensitive spot to the puckered skin of his ass. Another shock surged. His instincts told him to step away, but he simply couldn’t move. When she pulled back to twirl her tongue around the tip this time, she also circled her finger around the tight ring of flesh. Bit by bit she worked her finger inside as she took his cock into her mouth. Now she had him firmly locked into place. He couldn’t step forward or back, so he stood and watched her, feeling a slew of mixed emotions about what she was doing to him.
    Drahka knew he should not climax this way. Doing so was a waste. If he came inside her, a child might come of his pleasure. Each time he tried to tell her this he would open his mouth, but all that emerged were short, sharp bursts of breath, panting groans and strangled gasps. Wasting his seed was against the most basic tenets of his tribe. Those who had gone before would see what he was. They would block him from joining them in the after place. Still, Drahka did not stop her or move away. With her encouragement, he rocked his hips, moving his cock in and out of her mouth as her finger slid in and out of his ass. He came suddenly, thrusting forward without intent, but she took him deep into her throat, her mouth and tongue working to drain him, as if she slaked her thirst from his climax. A twist of her finger caused another surge. Feeling dizzy, he gripped a wall as the last of his pleasure coated the back of her throat.
    He knew in that moment he could never go home again.

Chapter Three
    Viltori floated on his back, examining the artwork above the great pool in the tishiary . This early, he had the place almost to himself. There was only one other person within the servant rooms, a serbred , who scrubbed her master’s clothing in the washing basin. Her owner was high ranking, given the deep green of the clothing she washed. Her face held the blankness of a child, as all the deliberately bred servant’s faces did. Shivering slightly, Viltori placed his ears under the water to drown out the sounds of her work. For a time, he wished to simply float, breathe and think upon his student.
    After three long cycles of teaching him Diolan, Viltori had finally discovered the man’s name was Drahka. Viltori didn’t think the name suited him, given his power and strength, but at least he had something to call him. He considered that a great victory, even more so than learning the man’s language in a scant cycle. He’d helped the magistrate negotiate with Drahka’s people. Viltori worried that the two different cultures would never come to an agreement, but with enough bribes and promises, Ambo got his way. Drahka belonged to Diola now and to Bithia forever.
    Warm water caressed Viltori’s body as he paddled in a lazy circle, gaze upon the depiction of a humble servant, bowing low before his master. The servant was dressed in brown, as all servants were, and he kept his eyes low, on his master’s feet. Light glowed from the master’s face as he placed his hand upon the head of his slave. Viltori thought the artwork was the most pathetic propaganda he’d ever seen. The artist tried to show that the servant enjoyed his subservient position and that the master was a paragon of kindness. This scenario he knew to be untrue. Viltori could not count the number of times he’d seen the marks of brutality on the bodies of those who served the elite. Since every servant came to the tishiary to bathe, acquire supplies, or clean their master’s clothing, he’d seen most of them at one time or another. True, most had gentle masters, but some had owners who were so vicious they injured their slaves or used them for perversities none should suffer. A desire to right