Raised to Kill (Kindred Tales)

“Oh, husband—husband!” she cried, her toes curling as every muscle in her body seemed to tense in pleasure. “So good—so good!”

Brand stayed with her, riding out her orgasm and fucking her pussy with his fingers until Allara collapsed back on the bed panting in exhausted pleasure.

Only then did he remove his fingers, lick them clean, and climb onto the bed with her. Pulling her close, he began to kiss Allara slowly and thoroughly, sharing her own secret flavor with her.

It was the single most erotic experience of Allara’s life—though she had to admit, she’d had no erotic experiences until she had gotten married to Brand. But the slow, tender way he had brought her to pleasure and then the intense finish made her feel as though her heart would overflow.

“Husband,” she whispered, when Brand pulled back for a moment. “Now, I’m certain. I know that I love you.”

“Mmm, baby—I love you too. So much.” And he pulled her close to his chest and cuddled her, the two of them swaying on the rocking bed as the last light of the sunset bathed them in its rays.

The rest of their Tasting Week was delicious. They continued to explore Darden Three during the day, riding boatercycles through the aquamarine waves, scuba diving (with the aid of a flotation device on Allara’s part) through tropical reefs, and taking k’per riding lessons. K’pers were a little like the Earth animal called a horse, but they were much lighter and had vast, rainbow-colored wings sprouting from their backs. When strapped securely to her favorite k’per’s saddle—a female called “Sky Dancer”—Allara swept through the sky alongside her new husband as they raced through the clouds together.

At nights, they had a few more state dinners to attend, but were often alone for quiet, romantic meals as well. And after they finished eating, they often walked along the beach, listening to the beautiful music of the Dardens singing to the sunset.

They sang together too, as Allara shrugged off what she hoped were the last vestiges of her people’s restrictive ways. Often they sang their wedding song, but sometimes Brand simply asked her to sing a melody—any melody that came into her head—and he would match it and harmonize with it as they let their Songs entwine.

The pleasure of these moments was twofold, Allara found. First, she felt the physical pleasure of their mingled Songs caressing her skin and teasing her sensitive areas. But she also found pleasure in the idea that her husband wanted to sing with her and by so doing, bring her pleasure. She came to understand that Brand was showing her that he loved her and it drew them even closer together as her melody and his harmony filled the air around them in the golden rays of the sunset.

And after the singing was done and they were back in their luxurious suite in the resort hotel the Dardens had put them in, they had a new game to play. A game Brand called, “Kissing the panties.”

For, after searching her luggage, which Kat had helped her pack, Allara found that her friend had included a whole stack of undergarments—each one seemingly skimpier than the last. Many of them had slits in the middle or deep V’s in front which left her pussy lips almost entirely bare. When she showed them to Brand, his golden eyes had gone half-lidded with desire.

“Gods, baby, you could wear a different pair for me to kiss every night we’re here.”

So Allara did. Sometimes Brand laid her on the bed and knelt on the floor, as he had the first night of their Tasting Week to “kiss her panties.” Sometimes he lay on the bed himself and had her straddle his mouth. And sometimes, he put her in the swinging chair on the balcony and kissed them there.

This was especially pleasurable for Allara—she loved lying back in the chair with her thighs spread and the big Kindred between them, as the soft golden-pink rays of the sunset bathed her body and her husband bathed her pussy with his tongue.

Of course, Brand always started out kissing the fabric of her panties first, but he soon found his way around the tiny strings or into the slits that gave him free access to her pussy and once he got in to where he wanted to be, he seldom stopped before Allara had come two or three times.

On their last night there, she found the skimpiest pair of panties yet, hiding in the corner of her carry-all case. They were simply a black lace waistband with a string of pearls attached to it.

When Allara slipped this particular pair of panties on, the pearls nestled naturally against the slit of her pussy lips, hiding almost nothing. She was about to take them off again—it was their last night and they had a state dinner to attend—she didn’t want to wear such naughty underwear to an official function—when Brand came in and caught a glimpse of them.