Shadow Phantoms - H.P. Mallory

ONE

DUINE

“Take off your clothes.”

To her credit, the woman only hesitated a moment, before starting to undress.

“Slowly,” I instructed.

She hesitated again, this time thinking how best to please me (or so I believed). Which was good, but seduction was clearly not instinctive to her. Some women know how to strip and make a show of it, others need instructions and however closely they follow those instructions, the results are never overly impressive. There is certainly something to be said for confidence.

Still, she was not an unattractive woman, her nervousness had a naïve charm of its own, and watching her was still quite pleasing. I thought about taking a few pictures on my mobile, if only to make her more amusingly self-conscious, but sometimes it is more fun just to be in the moment. Besides, the security cameras (unmanned at present) would capture everything if ever I wanted to relive it.

And I doubted I did.

I reached for the wine glass beside me, where sat a piquant merlot. Without ever taking my eyes off the woman, I took a long sip. Her long hair tumbled free—mousey brown, but appealing enough. She turned her back so I could see her hand slowly draw down the zip of her dress. That was quite well done; she was a fast study.

I adjusted the front of my trousers, which were already starting to feel a bit constricting. Turning back around to face me, her eyes peering apprehensively through the curtain of her hair, she peeled away the top of her dress to reveal large, heavy breasts in a lacy bra. Given my choice—and as High Mage and Lord of the King’s Alliance, I was well-placed to take my choice—I liked my women in their early twenties, which this one certainly was not, but she was no more than thirty-five and her figure was full, but well-proportioned. Besides, this was not an ordinary situation and the specific circumstances brought pleasures of their own.

As she began to shimmy the dress down her hips, I raised a lazy hand and made a circling gesture with my finger, instructing her to turn—I wanted to see her ass when she removed the dress. The woman did as she was instructed and the sight did not disappoint—the front of my pants now clearly showing my approval. Enjoying the show, I took another sip of merlot and wondered if it was odd that while I didn’t know this woman’s name, I did know that of her brother.

He was called Devin, and he was currently sitting in one of my cells, awaiting judgement on the crime of Vicious Dissent. Specifically, he’d voiced dissatisfaction with my leadership of the King’s Alliance. Such dissatisfaction breeds dissent, dissent breeds revolt, and a strong leader does not tolerate revolt. Revolt must be crushed.

Thus, Devin was awaiting judgement, but everyone knew what said judgement would be; Devin would die. Which was why his sister had come here to plead her brother’s case. I had asked her what she had to offer, and now I was about to find out.

It wouldn’t make a difference of course; dissent could not be tolerated. But it would have been cruel not to allow her to believe she’d done everything she could to save this Devin. I’m certainly not an unkind man.

With the dress crumpled on the floor at her feet, she tried to coquettishly kick it away, but fumbled the attempt. So she moved onto her bra, again turning her back so I could see her undo the clip before facing me once more as she allowed her breasts to tumble free. They were round and generous, and I allowed myself a growl of approval to let her know she was doing quite well. She was now naked, except for a small pair of panties, and I thought I saw her hesitate again before removing this final barrier to my greedy eyes.

“Don’t stop.” Though I said the words softly, there was no mistaking my tone of command.

The woman (Freya? Was that her name? It would do—I certainly couldn’t keep calling her ‘the woman’) moved quickly now, anxious not to upset me for her own sake as much as that of her brother. It was good to see her keen to fulfill my wishes, but there was something clumsily hurried as she looped her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and drew them down her legs, exposing herself fully to me for the first time.

“Turn around.”

Awkward and vulnerable, Freya (probably) turned around on the spot.

“Slower.”

Again,

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