The Battered Lamp Chapter Thirty-Three: The Vision of Hecate - Sex Stories

The Battered Lamp Chapter Thirty-Three: The Vision of Hecate

... should have killed her a thousand years ago so Kalila could never be freed. Faiza smile grew. “But I know where she is hidden.” Rashid's calm broke and he gaped. “How?” “Hecate is the mother of Prophecy. Her Daughter can see many hidden things.” “Where is she?” Zaritha had always held back telling him, insuring Rashid would continue to need her services. I should have tortured it out of the bitch. “Marry me.” If the Si'lat whore succeeds, it won't matter. “I must think on it.” “Hecate is growing impatient with your stalling.” A knock rapped his door. “Enter,” Rashid called. “There is a message from the sands, noble Sultan,” a Marid servant said when he entered, bowing deep. Rashid nodded. A message from the sands meant word from his spy, the Jann Vizier. Sayid knew to send a message only when it was most vital. He took the sealed scroll from his servant, cracking the gold wax and unfurled it. The Si'lat have joined with Kyle. Hawaa made a power play this evening, but Kyle dominated her. She is now his concubine. A secret meeting was held in his room. I could not learn what was discussed. Ishtar's magic warded the room. One of Kyle's wives and two concubines are witches. Zaritha intimated that she could deliver the Ifrit earlier. I fear that is Kyle's next move. Rashid crumpled the note, water dripping from his hand and washing away the ink before he threw the sodden mess to the floor. “Hawaa failed?” Faiza asked, raising her eyebrow. Rashid was hardly surprised she knew ...

... about that. He had no choice. “We shall marry, Faiza. Where is Kalila held?” Faiza stood, her fingers lifting the hem of her dress. “Once you've consummated our marriage,” she purred. Her breasts were lovely, firm, and dusky. Her skirt fell off her hips, her black bush neatly trimmed, dripping with her desire. “This body is a virgin.” “How can you be Kyle's mother and remain a virgin?” “I died and was reborn,” she answered walking towards him, her hips shaking. “Do you take me as your first wife, Rashid ibn al-Marid, Sultan of the Hidden People?” “I do,” he declared, his cock rising in his blue pantaloons. She grabbed his white beard, pulling him up to his feet. Her hands stroked his firm flesh, sliding down to his groin. Her touch burned him. His cock hardened as she pressed into the silk, grasping his hardening shaft and stroking him as his silk pantaloons fell to the floor. “So excited for my flesh,” she purred, pressing her lithe body against him. Her breasts were soft on his chest, her nipples hard. Her lips found his and her kiss was as sweet as honey. It had been centuries since he had been with a woman. All his concubines had long since bored him and his wives were shriveled hags that waged petty wars for dominance of the harem. But Faiza was so new and exciting. “Take me to your bedchamber, my husband,” she purred. “I want to make us one flesh.” Her words churned fear inside him, a great, dark tide that dragged his heart down. But he had no choice. The Ifrit could not be ...