Chapter 49 #3
The throne room in the Safina palace was an open-air garden.
That surprised me at first, but I learned that it never rained on the plane of the angeli, yet plants thrived, growing lush and full.
Where the material plane would have large columns to hold up a grand vaulted ceiling, this hall had an array of flowers with blossoms bigger than my hand.
I recognized roses and tulips and lilacs, but many of the flowers were completely unknown to me, native to this plane and found on no other.
At the end of the hall, a white bench sat on a floating platform 10 ft higher than the floor. Few chairs on the angeli plane had backs out of convenience for its winged denizens, and if they did, they were exceptionally narrow, feeling more like posts than proper chairbacks.
Angeli used stairs, but not always. The platform for the throne room had none, built with the assumption that the king or queen would flap their powerful wings to rise above the people who came to petition for their aid.
Humans had to jump or climb, which wasn’t a significant issue for my party, given our stats, not to mention that several of my wives had wings themselves.
Invia sat on the throne in high heels, black underwear, and her golden lion mask with her legs spread wide and a smug grin on her face.
“You look beautiful, my Queen,” I said as I approached. “You were meant to sit on a throne. It suits you.”
“I know.”
“How does it feel?” I asked, looking up at my templar.
“Like the universe finally understands that I’m above nearly every being that lives on any plane. I enjoy having celestials bow to me.”
I Silk Walked up the dais and knelt in front of Invia.
“I wish to make an offering to your greatness,” I said.
“Oh?”
“An act of worship for the perfect queen.”
I crawled forward, a hand finding Invia’s bare ankle.
I lifted her leg without removing her heels and kissed the top of her foot.
Using my shoulder, she kicked her shoe free.
I took a moment to appreciate the strong arch and the graceful yet powerful shape of her foot, my fingers following the natural flow of her form down to her dainty toes, perfectly pedicured and painted black.
My lips charted a path from the ball of her foot up to her smallest toe.
I took in my mouth and watched the Queen shudder at the sensation.
I ran both my hands along her calf, gliding across her milky soft skin to her toned thighs.
The closer I got to her hips, the slower my hands moved, my finger tips a tickle against the delicate flesh between her legs.
My hands reversed course as I kissed from her foot, to her ankle, to her calves. I left her leg propped on my shoulder, high and spread. My caress drifted back toward her thighs, one hand running over her panties.
The touch was soft at first, but then I brought my thumb down, rubbing her over the silk of her underwear while my lips continued their journey.
“Fuck, that’s nice,” Invia said with a gasp, her head tilted back, one hand bracing herself on the bench, the other cupping her breast over her bra.
She purred when I put more pressure into her massage, and her breath quickened the closer my kisses came to the pleasure she longed for. I stopped when my mouth replaced my thumb.
With my lips against her panties, I asked, “May I continue, your Grace?”
“You may.”
I hooked her underwear and pulled it aside, pressing my tongue to her paradise.
She tasted sweet with the slight salt from a busy day ruling a whole new kingdom.
I circled her clit, slowly and with heavy pressure, just how she liked it.
I enjoyed her, letting myself get lost in the moment of worshipping my wife, my tongue finding and exploring every angle, always coming back to that central focus.
Invia ran her fingers through my hair, palming my head.
Sometimes she moaned, her fingernails dragging against my scalp as she grabbed a fistful of hair, as she pushed me down into her pussy.
Those moments came and went, though, like her journey to a climax had several smaller summits along the way.
I brought a hand under my chin and traced her entrance, feeling her steadily relax as her desire opened her to me.
With almost no resistance, that same finger slipped into her and curled, giving her the come-hither motion of a G-spot massage.
I used her pledge to make her tighter, pressing more of her into my finger.
“I don’t deserve you,” she gasped.
Her desire ran down my chin, but I didn’t dare stop. No, this was the time to go harder and faster to build that pressure within her, to give her more, to push her closer and closer to the edge.
I pulled my finger back and ran it down below her sex. Between her pleasure and my spit, the path was slick and smooth, a gentle slide to her tight little ass. I pushed on that door, triggering an even deeper shudder and moan.
“Fuck,” she whispered as my finger penetrated her, fucking her ass while my tongue pleased her clit. “Holy fuck, Byron. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Her whole body tensed, every muscle seizing in place as the buildup began to overwhelm her.
“Byron, for the love of the Goddess, I need a dick to suck. Fucking please. I need you in my mouth.”
As soon as I sent a tentacle dick toward her, Invia snatched it with both hands and shoved it in her mouth with ravenous hunger, her moans coming in time with her head bobbing back and forth.
Her abyssal tongue wrapped me like a garland around a lamppost and slid up and down with her every movement.
That woman was a monster when it came to giving head. She attacked my cock like her life was on the line, giving it her all to earn my seed. Deep. Deep. Deep.
And she held it, small puffs of air grazing my tip each time she fought her gag and kept going.
I put a second finger in her ass and made it even tighter.
That broke her. Invia made no effort to muffle her screams. She shouted in ecstasy as if we were the only people around for hundreds of miles.
She wanted everyone in the palace to hear and to know.
She was proud of her pleasure and wouldn’t be shamed into hiding or stifling it.
“Good girl,” I whispered, looking up between her breasts to her flushed face.
“I fucking love you so much,” she said back. “Fuck, that was amazing.”
+17 Progress to Your Fall.
Progress to Your Fall: 85 / 100 (Abaddon, King of the Abyss)
Motherfucking King of the Abyss. What an asshole.