Freedom Rising 2: What Price Freedom? Read online

  Freedom Rising 2: What Price Freedom?

  Willa Okati

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright ©2006 Willa Okati

  No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Changeling Press LLC.

  ISBN (10) 1-59596-181-X

  ISBN (13) 978-1-59596-181-5

  Formats Available:

  HTML, Adobe PDF,

  MobiPocket, Microsoft Reader

  Publisher:

  Changeling Press LLC

  PO Box 1561

  Shepherdstown, WV 25443-1561

  www.ChangelingPress.com

  Editor: Katriena Knights

  Cover Artist: Karen Fox

  This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  Dedication

  For Ladycat, who is one of the Earth’s biggest sweethearts.

  Chapter One

  Under the cool white light of a full moon, on a bed of cushions in a fragrant rooftop garden, two men writhed together making love.

  “Oh, yes. Move for me.” The Nightwalker Nanashi needed no breath to survive, but all the same his chest rose and fell as he struggled to force words through his lips. Lying on his back in a bed of silks and velvets, careless of the rich fabrics as he was careful of his human lover Silken, he arched his hips and groaned for sheer pleasure.

  Silken, once a courtesan, then a whore and now Consort to the Nightwalker, all but purred as Nanashi writhed beneath him. He held himself poised above Nanashi’s cock, savoring the anticipation. Practice had taught him how to relax his muscles, to stretch himself wide on his own fingers, dripping with sharply scented oils, but the man beneath him had taught him to love the act of men coming together in bed. He felt empty inside, his stomach clenching with the anticipation of slowly sliding down onto Nanashi’s cock. Feeling it pop past his tight ring and ease in, slick and sweet.

  He wanted nothing more than to ride his Consort like one of the wild horses from the West. His body ached to take Nanashi deep inside and taste the power that came with being fucked by a man. What a fool he’d been not to realize how wonderful another man could be in bed! Women were marvelous, and he would not have given them up on his own, but for Nanashi… oh, he would sacrifice anything.

  Closing his eyes, Silken breathed carefully and slowly, struggling for control. He would be a poor servant if he could not maintain the pace he had set. Anticipation made any sex all the sweeter, and when two were as insatiable for one another’s bodies as he and Nanashi, he was hard pressed to remember his training in pleasing another before himself.

  By the Goddess! All Silken wanted was to toss his learning out the rice-paper-covered windows of this home and spear himself like a wanton slut, moaning and pawing at Nanashi’s chest for another wild gallop through the night, bodies flowing into one another as cherry trees rising from the earth.

  He knew how badly it would reflect on him, but Silken didn’t want to make love, didn’t want to practice the Arts he’d carefully learned, didn’t want to seduce Nanashi until he went mad with lust. Nanashi was already there, toes curling and hands fisting into the priceless bedding they were about to ruin. Silken wanted to fuck. To be possessed by the Nightwalker just as he’d been when they first shared blood.

  With a silent groan of shame mixed with ravenous hunger, Silken let himself go as far as he could within the rules. Splaying his hands wide over Nanashi’s chest, he began to lower himself onto the vampire’s cock. Strong fingers seized his hips, guiding him even as Nanashi’s head tossed, thick black hair tangling into a wild mess on his embroidered pillow.

  Silken sank home, the tight curves of his ass flush with Nanashi’s groin, speared by his cock, burning with agony and ecstasy -- the sort of pain that felt better than any possible pleasure.

  “You,” he breathed. “Do you see what you do to me? You strip my control. Turn me into a beast.” He squeezed deep internal muscles around Nanashi’s cock and laughed a little wildly as Nanashi yelled, bucking up. “You make me burn for you.”

  Nanashi pried one of his cool white hands off Silken’s hip and reached up to grasp his jaw. His fingers pressed into Silken’s cheek, eyes crazed with lust. “I’ve only just begun,” he managed. “Silence, now. No more pretty words. Fuck me.”

  Silken let his breath out in a rush. A Courtesan almost all his life, he felt as if the order freed him to play the slut he ached to be. One sweet moment of release from who he was. He rolled his hips lustfully, wringing a groan out of Nanashi and a hiss from himself. Nanashi’s cock arched deeper in, sending bolts of fire and ice to Silken’s brain.

  “Fuck me,” Nanashi repeated, voice ragged.

  Silken, unable to hold back any longer, let himself go, rising and falling. His hands roamed over Nanashi, his chosen, his vampire lover, his Consort. He forgot the world, the bed, his Goddess, and his arts. The only thing that mattered to him was Nanashi. Driving Nanashi out of his mind while he lost his own.

  Silken began to ride.

  He swayed above Nanashi, power and passion thrumming through his veins like the milk of his goddess Lalasa, who watched over courtesans and whores alike. Mother of love, she lived far removed from the world these days but on occasion chose a favorite.

  Silken knew She had long since selected him as one of Her special children. Perhaps She adored his beauty, as finely cut as a woman yet muscled and toned as a man who obeyed her precepts for obtaining a healthy body. She might approve of his worship through intercourse and had rewarded him with bliss few other men would ever feel. Heaven that others chased after with the finest opium and herbs.

  Lalasa had long since used Silken as her vessel for conducting passion plays within the city’s beds and, when he had been struck down from his position as a favored courtesan, brought a savior to restore him to his former position. He had not expected Lalasa to choose a Nightwalker -- a monster -- as the instrument of her rescue, yet the being drawn to him, Nanashi, had proved more of a gentleman than any rarified lords or ladies he had ever met. The Beast had sworn to take care of Beauty -- and oh, how he bent himself to the task.

  Fucking himself on Nanashi’s cock, their hands slipping and sliding together, Silken couldn’t help making helpless noises of animal need. The still mostly human blood thrummed through his veins, filling him with awareness of Nanashi’s amazing cock, with a sense of power, and of his own power at driving the Nightwalker over a lusty edge.

  He laughed helplessly with pride and heady bliss. Had he ever regretted his fall from “grace” when his former keeper, Mama Luck, had lost him to a House of men? Goddess, no!

  He would have traded anything, even the gold she’d lost for him, to have a chance at the Nightwalker. A life of service to elegant women of the courts could never compare to fucking Nanashi. To being speared on his lover wearing only his skin, pale gold, smooth as satin and powdered with sweet-smelling honey dust streaked with beads of sweat. He cried out when Nanashi arched up to trail the pointed tip of his tongue over a drop, leaving fire and ice in his wake.

  He growled low in his throat, thrashing his head. “Wildcat,” Nanashi snarled in approval, hands catching Silken’s thighs, pushing him up and pulling him down. “You purr, you snarl. You know your master. Me.”

  “Yes,” Silken breathed, his own cock beginning to th
rob with the pulse of no return. He had long since taught himself the trick of coming without a hand on his member, and he knew he would burst at any moment.

  Not too soon, though… not too soon… he owed Nanashi a glorious fuck. Needed to prove his adoration and his lust. One more time before the morning, at least one more time before he walked out of their home a free man and Keeper of his own House. Nanashi had promised him this would be the day.

  Silken had also long since learned when Nanashi gave his word, his promises came true. He rolled his hips wantonly, dragging a deep, hoarse cry out of his lover and a wail from his own throat. Thank you, he said with his body; also, I love you.

  Lalasa be praised! Silken ached for a mirror so he could see just how they looked together, he and Nanashi. There were none though. The Nightwalker would not allow them, as he gave no reflection. Casting a glance to the side, Silken saw that the candlelight from tapers and pillars spread around their bedchamber threw his lean, sinewy silhouette into relief against the wall. His shadow arched high and proud, undulating with power, balancing itself above the shifting, writhing figure of the man pinned between his thighs.

  “Look,” he managed to say through sharp, short breaths. “Watch us. Oh, goddess --!”

  Nanashi shook his head. “To the Pit with shadow puppets,” he said. “I only want to look at you. Your face, your eyes, your mouth falling open wide. You. No substitutes.”

  “But, Nanashi --”

  “Stop your pretty plays! Look at us, Silken. Take your eyes off the heavens and look!”

  Silken glanced down and gasped at the sight between his thighs. His cock jutted out hard and demanding, a pearl of seed shining at the tip. Paused with Nanashi’s own member half in and half out of his hole, he stared at the thickness with lust and awe. The few men he’d had in his life could never have prepared him for his Nightwalker. Gossips told stories about Nightwalkers, but idle fantasies could never have prepared him for the reality. Nanashi looked so thick and round, swollen tight and hard for want of him -- glistening with spicy lubricant, alabaster white and perfect.

  Unable to resist, Silken slipped off Nanashi’s cock and seized it in his hand. He wrapped a hand around the length and marveled at the feel of the organ -- like silk wrapping steel, as wide around as his wrist, longer than any human had a right to dream of, only lacking the thumping of a pulse-beat in time with Silken’s heart.

  “What are you doing? Go back!”

  “Hush. Hush. Wait.” Slowly, slowly, Silken stroked Nanashi’s cock, delaying the penultimate moment with delicious satisfaction. He burned to feel that rod pushing deep inside him again, thrusting hard. Wanted to feel Nanashi’s hands gripping his flanks, to feel Nanashi’s mouth on his skin, the sharp sting of his fangs that was addictive as any street herb. Bites at his nipples and the lashing of a tongue over small cuts, not painful, but like champagne poured over his smooth chest.

  But did not all good things come to those who waited? Feeling Nanashi writhe beneath him, insane with impatience, unable to find words to order Silken back onto his cock, Silken relished the feeling of power at postponing his pleasure. Nothing had ever felt as good. “Not just yet…”

  “You think you can order me around?” Nanashi snarled. To Silken’s surprise, he seemed truly angry. Not just driven out of mind with the need to be buried deep inside, but furious at Silken’s teasing. Silken didn’t understand. Weren’t the skills he’d learned enough to please?

  Confused, he tried another tack, slipping back into directness even though his lust was dampened by confusion. One of his slim hands slipped down to pinch the base of Nanashi’s erection. Rough, the way he seemed to like best. “I want you in me,” he said, making his voice brazen. “Come inside. I invite you.”

  Nanashi made another dangerous animal noise. Gripping Silken’s legs hard enough to leave bruises, he thrust up and inside, so fierce that Silken arched and let out a low scream -- part pleasure, part bewilderment at the harsh treatment, and a tiny bit of pain.

  Silken groaned, pain easing into pleasure, balling his hands into tight fists. He didn’t know what would happen if he touched Nanashi and didn’t think he dared risk finding out. What was he doing wrong?

  Nanashi held him still as a statue, the moment stretching on for ages. “Please,” Silken gave in and begged at last. “Please, let me move!”

  The Nightwalker’s smile was hungry, an animal with prey in its sights. “No more teasing,” he warned. “Move,” he breathed against Silken’s lips. “Do what you do best. Worship me.”

  His hands -- strong, solid hands, powerful enough to break an iron bar in half, began to pump Silken’s cock. Unable to help himself, Silken keened at the feel of being worked like a whore. He felt almost ashamed, but by Lalasa, the friction! A man couldn’t think, couldn’t talk, but could only be when faced with such power and lust.

  “Do you like that?” Nanashi asked hoarsely. “Does it feel good, being speared on my cock? Tell me how much you want it. Want me.”

  “More than life.” Silken fought to keep his eyes open, to see the waves of passion and fierce wanting on Nanashi’s face. “So good,” he gasped. Then, recklessly, “Come on, Nightwalker. Fuck me!”

  Nanashi growled, and began to work them in earnest. Silken lost his grip on the world then, everything spiraling down to the cock plunging in and out of him, the smell of the lubricating oils, the taste of Nanashi’s scent in the air, the sweat sheeting down his body, the blazing fire in his own member. He moaned and thrashed like a shameless slut, begging for more, more, more -- until, with the power of a lightning strike, he felt himself begin to let go.

  Nanashi snarled, lunging up to bury fangs around Silken’s nipple and swallow heavy mouthfuls of blood. His cock spasmed inside Silken and then let go, painting him from within with heavy spurts of slick seed.

  When Silken collapsed against Nanashi’s chest, breathing in deep, ragged gulps, Nanashi chuckled low in his throat. He pulled out of Silken’s ass with a sigh, then bent to lap up the droplets of blood running down his chest. “Good boy,” he murmured. “My Consort.”

  Silken felt boneless as Nanashi eased them onto their sides, facing one another. Habit seized his tongue and he murmured sleepily, “This my sacrifice to you, Lalasa, goddess of the heart. As it has been done, so mote it be.”

  Nanashi’s eyes narrowed. He remained silent for a long moment, then reached out to haul Silken to his chest. The stickiness of blood and come pooled between them on their bellies. “You have much to learn,” he said at last. “Things will be different now, with you as a free man but as my Consort, Silken. You spent one lifetime in study and learning the rules. Now you begin another.”

  He seized Silken’s jaw and shook his head. “Do you enjoy this?” he demanded. “Do you love having me inside you, or is it all for show?”

  Silken’s eyes widened in bewilderment. “It -- it is you,” he stammered, dropping his careful speech in shock. “I would not -- there is no pretense --”

  “Good.” Nanashi’s arms banded around him, holding him so tight he had no hope of getting free if he had wanted to. “Then never, ever call this a ‘sacrifice’ again. Are we clear?”

  Stunned, Silken nodded. “But the Goddess?”

  “Worship her as you will, and as you should, but save your adoration for me. The sun will rise on your new life while I sleep tomorrow, Silken,” Nanashi growled. “Remember who you’re bound to and what I expect of you. Do what you must, but know who paid the price for your freedom and respect me. I will know if you do not.”

  Silken couldn’t help a small shiver. Nanashi had never been anything but kind and loving before, pampering to Silken’s every whim. He could still taste the iced cherries his Nightwalker pressed on him as a treat and feel the rich clothes Nanashi draped him in.

  “You look troubled.”

  Silken struggled internally. Perhaps this was part of being involved with a Nightwalker. Something implied in the bond of Consorthood he didn’t understa
nd. Yes, that had to be the explanation. He was lacking. Well, he would simply have to learn then. He would begin his new life with the determination to make Nanashi proud of him.

  “I am fine,” he said, nestling his head into Nanashi’s smooth chest. “Will you hold me?”

  Nanashi’s arms tightened. Gentle as was his usual wont, one hand swept up and down Silken’s back. “Always,” he rumbled, his voice back to its usual smooth burn. “All I ask is that you remember what you’ve asked of me, what I’ve done for you, and understand: your new life holds more than you ever dreamed.”

  Silken had thought those words to himself many times before. They had always filled him with joy -- the thoughts of being a Keeper over his own House and coming home to Nanashi, courteous and loving and attentive.

  Now, as he curled against his Nightwalker’s body, seeking comfort, the phrases sent a chill down the spine Nanashi’s fingers played against…

  Chapter Two

  Silken might have dozed; he wasn’t certain. It was not in his nature to sleep while the moon still rose toward her zenith. Nanashi, naturally, never slept away the night hours either. As the afterglow warmth of his orgasm ebbed slowly out of his muscles and bones, Silken began to grow stiff and want to stretch. Behind him, he felt Nanashi quaking every so often, obviously just as eager to change position, but politely honoring the request to hold and be held.

  Silken wished the moment could go on for hours -- Nanashi’s skin was so cool in the warm, humid night -- yet he found himself on the verge of wriggling, and such an action simply would not do. Even former Courtesans, and especially those who hoped to retain their recently re-won high caste status, did not act the selfish lover. Flopping about like a fish would not only be undignified, it would insult Nanashi by implying his embrace was not welcome.

  Silken did not want to think about what might happen if he displeased Nanashi. He had spent the most of his life pleasing human women who knew the rules of polite society even when they lay between finely woven linen sheets. Manners were of utmost importance and in no way could they be deviated from without a direct order. Some did enjoy acting the wild mare, but they always controlled their riders, and afterwards, when he arranged their hair and painted their faces, they were genteel. He had known what to expect from women such as Aliana, his fairest of the fair.