The fire ate through Makerah’s flesh, reaching his heart. The chains of diamond wrapped around the Unbound’s foul heart anchored him to the Hidden Realm. The links glowed cherry red. The diamond weakened beneath the heat, melting, running like iron heated cherry-red.
Makerah was Unbound no longer. His soul was pulled into Haawiyah for the crimes he had committed.
Kyle released the energy.
Christy, Aaliyah, Fumi, Fatima, and Britney flashed into existence around him, each holding their artifact. Fatima whooped, thrusting her spear up into the air. Fumi smiled at him, and Christy leaned on her staff, wiping her sweaty brow. Britney nodded at him.
And Aaliyah took his hand. “Take your throne, Sultan,” she whispered.
“You earned it, big bro,” beamed Fatima.
Fumi slipped up and took his other hand. “Take what is yours.”
Kyle crossed the room, his back straight. He let Earthbones disappear in a flash of gold and sat upon the throne of the Djinn, gazing out at the quavering Marid. They cast fearful glances at the half-molten spot where Makerah had been consumed.
The first Marid stumbled forward, falling to his knees. “Sultan!” he cried out, falling prostrate before Kyle.
“Sultan!” Another Marid. “Sultan!” A few more. And then the dam broke and the rest flooded into the throne room, bowing before the mortal that had claimed the Sultanate.
“What is your command?”
Kyle had no idea. His wives joined him, standing around his throne. He stared out at the assembled Marid. What am I going to do as Sultan of the Djinn? Aaliyah whispered a suggestion into his ear. “Summon the Sheikhs to Sahabah to celebrate my coronation,” Kyle declared. “All should celebrate this happy day with feasts.”
“Yes, Sultan,” a trembling Marid nobleman said. “But who shall lead the Marid? Who will be our Sheikh?”
“Rashid’s daughter,” Kyle answered. “She shall be your Sheikha.”
The concubines limped in as the courtiers bustled off to ready the feast. His women were all bedraggled and battered, but they all had smiles on their faces. He saw all their faces. None had been killed by Makerah’s rampage.
“Master, Mistresses,” Shannon bowed before the throne. The rest of the concubines, even Hawaa, followed her in.
Kyle smiled at his harem.
“We are ready to serve you.”
Kyle’s breath caught as his mother stepped into the throne room, her arms hugging tight to her body. “Mom,” Kyle said, rising up from the throne. Tears brimmed in his eyes. She was alive and free.
“Mom!” Fatima cried out, racing from Kyle’s throne across the room and throwing her arms around Faiza.
“My baby girl.” Tears ran down his mom’s cheek as she clutched her daughter tight.
Kyle stood up, striding towards them. He threw his arm around both of them, hugging them tight. “Is it really you, Mom?”
“Yes, dear,” she smiled.
“Mother!” Aaliyah cried out, joining the hug.
“I’m so relieved,” Christy said. “It’s nice that you’re back with us Faiza.”
Fumi walked up, hanging back. Kyle frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“I haven’t been introduced yet.”
Kyle laughed. “Right. Mom, this is Fumi.”
His mother broke away, looking at the trembling, Japanese woman. “So you’re my son’s fourth wife.”
“I am…Mother.”
Kyle’s mother seized Fumi in a tight hug. “I’m so glad you make him happy.”
“Thank you,” breathed Fumi, tears running out of her all-white eyes. “We make each other happy.”
“Perhaps we should retire to somewhere more private,” Aaliyah suggested. “You have a lot to tell your mother about.”
“Like Kyle being a father,” Chyna smiled, touching her stomach.
“What?” his mother gasped.
“She’s not the only one,” Fatima added. “My period should have started two days ago. You’re going to be a grandmother!”
Epilogue: The Harem of Delights
Wednesday, October 29th – The Ruins of Alexandria, Egypt
Britney studied the rippling wall of seawater. It was fascinating staring out into the Mediterranean from the submerged ruins of Alexandria. Half-buried stone columns and walls peaked out of the silt deposited by the Nile. The seabed was covered in seaweed and sea creatures while fish flashed through the murky water.
Waterclaw glowed blue at her waist as she channeled back the water. She didn’t have to concentrate anymore. After nine months with the katar, she had become so used to controlling water, she didn’t even have to think about it any longer.
“It’s so fascinating to watch,” Phillipa announced, slipping up behind her.
“Have you discovered the scroll?”
Phillipa pressed into Britney’s back, her arms reaching around to stroke Britney’s stomach. Britney loved the feel of her mate pressing into her back and her warm breath on her neck. The Rakshasa’s cock stirred in her silk pantaloons.
“No,” Phillipa sighed. “Christy and Sable are searching deeper into the complex.”
“And what are you doing?” Britney shuddered as Phillipa’s hand slid higher up her body, brushing the bottom of her breasts beneath her silk vest. Then her hand slipped beneath the garment to squeeze her heavy tit.
“Taking a break.” She had such a playful tone to her voice; Britney’s cock hardened. “I brought some toys.”
“Such as?”
“Ropes, a chain flogger, nipple weights.”
“A butt plug?”
Phillipa’s hand squeezed Britney’s breast. “I wouldn’t want to be spanked without one.”
The lust burned through Britney. Her cock pressed against her pantaloons. She had to ravish her mate. She spun about, kissing Phillipa’s lush lips, her hand stroking the pale-olive complexion of Phillipa’s round face, Phillipa’s slanted eyes squeezing shut as Britney seized her mouth. Her hand ripped open Phillipa’s white, silk blouse, her breasts spilling out. Britney seized her nipples, pinching them hard; Phillipa moaned in pain. Britney’s cock throbbed harder.
“Little slut,” Britney hissed. “You just wanted to be fucked in your naughty cunt!”
“So bad!”
Britney twisted a nipple, pain swimming in Phillipa’s dark eyes. A tear leaked down her cheek. Britney licked up the salty drop, savoring her mate’s pain. It made her harder, and the Rakshasa could smell how wet it made Phillipa.
“Take your clothes off,” Britney commanded. “A slut doesn’t need to wear anything.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
Britney’s blood burned as her mate submitted to her lusts, discarding her ruined blouse and wiggling out of her pantaloons, throwing them on the silty floor. A hint of blood caught Britney’s nose, inflaming her more. Phillipa’s period had just ended.
Phillipa was disappointed. She wanted to carry Britney’s child. But it wasn’t time. Rakshasas went into heat only once or twice in their lives. Britney did not expect that to happen for a few more years. Then she would take Phillipa hard and plant a baby in her belly.
Another Rakshasa. A daughter to serve Kyle’s heir.
“Where are your supplies?” Britney hissed, tearing off her own blouse and shoving her pantaloons down. She set Waterclaw on the floor, its blue light undulating around the room.
“Ishtar, return to your servant the items she left in your care,” Phillipa chanted, her jade amulet flashing green between her breasts. A chest swirled into being at Britney’s feet.
“What a useful spell.” Britney bent down and opened up the chest. The first item she grabbed was the hemp rope. The fibers were rough; they would irritate Phillipa’s flesh—her mate wanted this to be as painful as possible.