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| Cleopatra's
Pleasure
"Oh sweet as balm, as soft as air, as gentle - O Antony!" It was hot. The great, feathered fan, waved sinuously up and down by the enormous Ethiopian slave Igran, did little to break the spell of heat. It clung to the palace rooms like a heavy veil, creating a slow torpor throughout the massive stone building. Cleopatra lay on her bed, studying the draperies which had been sumptuously gathered and strung about the soft platform. One finger twirled a piece of hair, letting the smooth strands run between her fingers in a lazy loop. She wore a gold necklace that felt cool against her skin, despite the heat, and a sweeping robe that hung from one shoulder, clinging to her dark belly and leaving one breast exposed. She gently brushed her fingertips across her flesh, pausing to caress her nipple until it hardened, wishing it were his fingers that played her so well. He was not here. He was dead, curse him. She would have given him the world and more, but he had left her. Once again, she felt the grief boiling in her belly, but decided against giving it sway. It was too hot, and she could think of better things to do. Tensely she pulled the fabric away from her thighs, and reached between her legs. Who needed him anyway? Her fingers brushed against her dark fur, expertly finding the moist warmth within. I am a Queen. I need no-one. They need me. Her index finger moved back and forth in a slow rhythm, teasing the bud in a gentle, luxurious way. Her body responded with pleasure. She was an empty vessel, aching with desire... it had been too long. Her gaze flicked to Igran. As usual he watched everything impassively. He'd seen her touch herself so many times, without once blinking. He was handsome, yes, but this was not his job. Abruptly she sat up and clapped her hands. Instantly a maid appeared from behind a curtain. "Summon the Isis-men. All of them. They are wanted." The maid ran to do her bidding, and she relaxed back with a contented sigh. Yes. That is what she wanted. It would make her feel so much better. She closed her eyes, and thoughts came, unbidden, of shared moments. Of the time he had kissed her as if his soul depended on it, of his lips upon her body, of the day they'd hidden in the far end of the palace, naked in each other's arms, the cares and demands of the world forgotten, if only for an hour. The memories made her ache, made her diaphram clench and her breathing stop with unfulfilled hunger... and grief. How dare he? "The Isis-men, your majesty," the maid said, and Cleopatra opened her eyes. Three sinuously muscled men stood at the foot of her bed and bowed to her. They wore only loin cloths, and their biceps rippled as they moved, a sensual grace directing their limbs. The three men silently waited as she studied their bodies. Having looked long enough, she nodded her head, and the Isis-men began their work... Want to know what happens next? The full version of this story is at For The Girls Ezine and Erotica for Women
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His
expression didn’t seem the slightest bit guilty or apologetic.
"You see," he said with a smile, "she likes to
watch." ... He
pushed me back onto the bed, licking and kissing my nipples, and
then his hot tongue was on my cunt, moving quickly across my folds
and flicking against my clit as I moaned. Want
to read the rest? |
