Chapter Thirteen: Cheryl
Two Months Later
Cheryl almost danced as she went down the corridors to the rooms she, Maskin and Bjorn shared. Her two kings were inside, talking in low voices. Bjorn was twisting a silk belt in his hands. Cheryl eyed the belt with longing, but while Maskin's wound had healed with only a scar left behind, he didn't quite have his old strength back yet.
She would have loved to start playing their old games again, but his health came first.
"Cheryl." Bjorn moved across the room and retrieved a drink. "I was just reminding Maskin about how you disobeyed my instructions when you faced Quincy."
"I don't want to talk about him." Cheryl had been more than happy when Quincy was stripped of his position as priest and was instead assigned to repair acolytes when they broke down. She didn't trust his vows of loyalty but also didn't want to kill him. In a strange way, she did owe him the life she had now. "I have something very exciting to tell you."
"Don't try to change the subject. You could have gotten yourself hurt." Maskin caught her around the waist and pulled her closer. "You should never have put yourself in danger, Cheryl. What if Quincy had wanted to kill you? We want you to be comfortable with making your own choices, but with choice comes consequence. You understand that, right?"
"What are you talking about?" Cheryl twisted in his grasp, but he didn't release her. If anything, his grip tightened. A familiar predatory look was in his eye and her heart jumped. She stopped struggling. "Are you certain you're well enough?"
From the other side of the bed, Bjorn nodded. "He's more than strong enough to give you the consequences. Just don't do it too hard, Maskin. Remember, it's my turn with her delectable ass."
Cheryl opened her mouth to ask what he meant, but before she could, Maskin had pulled her over his lap. His knees dug into her stomach. The human yelped as he flipped her skirt up over her. Her heart was in her throat as the heat began building in her core. Still, she half-heartedly struggled, pinching at Maskin's leg. He laughed at her efforts.
"Stop," he said.
"I'm not going to stop." Her voice had dropped low. "You'll have to tie me up."
Bjorn circled the bed. "Sounds good to me."
Cheryl put her hands behind her back, grinning. Bjorn tied her quickly with the silk belt while Maskin removed her underwear. His heavy hand came down on her bare butt, the sting making Cheryl wince. She giggled as the slight pain made the fire in her core twist. It was echoed by Bjorn's chuckle as he began to undress. Maskin spanked her again. A quick gasp escaped this time. Her warrior brushed her hair from her face.
"What do you think? Should I punish you more?"
"That didn't even hurt." She tried to give him a rebellious look but ended up giggling too hard.
Maskin shook his head. "What will we do with this defiant woman, Bjorn?"
"Maybe try adding this." He uncapped a vial, and Cheryl smelled rosewood oil. He poured it generously on her ass. "That might add to the sting."
Maskin slapped her ass again. The extra moisture made it hurt enough that Cheryl yelped. He stopped there, though, instead massaging the oil into her. The queen wriggled, trying to encourage him to keep spanking her, but apparently, he was done. Bjorn picked her up off the warrior's lap and laid her on the bed, kissing her hard as he followed her down. He was already ready, and so was she.
"I thought I'd go crazy with need before you were ready to join us again," Bjorn grumbled to Maskin as the warrior stripped off his clothes.
Cheryl held her breath, eyes brightening. They weren't just teasing her–after what felt like far too long they were finally going to make love again. She groaned as Bjorn rolled off her and shifted her to her side. Her hands were still tied behind her back, but she liked it that way. He positioned himself behind her and eased in slowly. Cheryl's eyes rolled into the back of her head as all her nerves started tingling, already making her legs tremble.
"I'm not going to last long," she moaned. "Maybe I should—"
"No." Bjorn began fondling her breast as Maskin laid before her and lifted her leg over his hip. "We've been waiting a long time until we could both share you like this. So just relax, Lapis Lazuli. We've got this."
As Maskin eased in, Bjorn withdrew slightly. The fire exploded to all parts of her body. After all this time there was no more pain as they took her together, and they began an alternating rhythm that had Cheryl screaming until she was out of breath. Their grunts matched the rhythm, the three of them building at the same pace, harder and faster. Cheryl gasped, the air seeming to thin as their heady scents surrounded her. It was all too much and she scratched at Bjorn's belly against her hands. She bit down hard on Maskin's shoulder.
The three of them finished together, Cheryl's body writhing between the kings, their arms clamped over her to keep her still. Maskin's face buried into her neck, kissing her feverishly. Bjorn rested his head on hers. Slowly, the three of them grew still.
"Well. I think you learned your lesson," Maskin whispered. He moved away carefully, Bjorn following suit. They lay flat on their backs, Cheryl rolling to her stomach.
A lazy smile crossed her face. "If that's my punishment, I'll be disobedient more often."
"Not too often, I hope," Bjorn said. "But you said you had exciting news. Have your new dresses come in?"
"No. Well, yes." Cheryl tried to push herself up, but with her hands still behind her back, it was impossible. "But that's not what I was going to tell you. I went to the fertility temple today to be checked."
Both men froze.
"I'm pregnant! And the DNA scans show that our cloning idea worked. The baby will be of all three of us."
"Why didn't you tell us?" Bjorn hurried to untie her. "You shouldn't have let us be so rough with you, Lapis Lazuli."
Cheryl's brow furrowed as Maskin picked her up and tucked her into the bed. Worry shone from his eyes as he stroked her hair from her face. She opened her mouth to tell them it was okay, but neither of them let her talk. Bjorn got water for her, Maskin tucked the blankets to her chin, worrying about a chill.
"It's fine, though," she protested. "I asked the acolytes and they said—"
"Do you need anything to eat?" Maskin asked. "What about a foot rub?"
Cheryl shook her head. She smiled at her two kings as they crowded around her, firing question after question about her wellbeing without giving her a chance to answer.
Well. There was one thing for certain. This was going to be a great nine months.
*****
THE END