The Claiming

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Chapter 3

As I was beginning my Trials, another story was underway, with struggles of its own. It is the strange story of Galatea Frick, the missing daughter of Chancellor Maximillian Frick, wealthy zealot and madman. The tale was related to me afterwards, once her destiny intersected with my own, and I present it to you the way I heard it, though it is not the beginning of her story, and certainly by no means the end:

A tall man and his hooded female companion stood at the borders of Neo Byzantium, waiting to cross through the last checkpoint to gain entrance to the Realm. The two were nestled among a weary collective of commuters who found themselves made quite miserable by the unnecessarily long journey.

″Come off it, already,″ called a voice from the back of the line. ″Galatea Frick ain’t here!″

A weary chuckle rippled through the group. The looks on the faces of the guards suggested that they weren’t exactly having a marvellous time either. A bored female guard waved the scanning wand over the man and the girl.

″Identification and travel papers, please,″ she demanded tiredly. The man handed them over and the guard scanned them. Her wand beeped twice, then flashed a green light.

″Welcome to Neo Byzantium and It’s Affiliated Territories,″ the guard mumbled as the gate slid open. ″We hope that you enjoy your stay.″

Once they were inside the borders, it didn’t take too much longer for the pair to reach the downtown metropolis of New Constantinople and their destination: a highly private and secure loft in one of the Banker’s suites. Nobody would disturb them there, the suites were built precisely for discretion and anonymity among the very wealthy. Mainly, it was a good place for the Bankers and other government officials to engage in any manner of debauchery that they desired, feeling safe in the fact that nobody asked any questions. And one of the main reasons that nobody asked any questions was because the entire staff was either blind or required to wear blindfolds. It had been thus for over a hundred years, since the hotel was constructed.

Left in peace at last with his companion, Dmitri al-Lyran sighed in relief and went to the bar to pour himself a drink as the hours changed and their internal environments shifted accordingly.

″I’m just going to change now,″ said his sapphire-skinned partner, who was called Avoneii. Dmitri turned to face her, finding himself, as always, wildly aroused, feeling nearly kicked by the sight of her, though now she was heavily disguised. Her eyes shone a gold-green and her skin was a shocking and beautiful deep blue as a result of an intense, pharmaceutically rendered disguise to make her look like a native of Thyra, one of the genetic manipulation colonies, as was her flame-red hair.

″Alright. I’ll fix you a drink.″

Avoneii headed into the bedroom as the Hour began to wax. She slipped off the long hooded robes that she had been garbed in all day and spread out on the soft bed. The young woman’s body craved release. Traveling in such close proximity to Dmitri had left her incredibly aroused and now the Hours were upon her. She had always been particularly sensitive to them, a fact that had not always sat well with her family.

As per Dmitri’s request, the walls and ceilings were covered with large and elegant mirrors. Cupping her full breasts in her hands, Avoneii tugged at her nipples, examining her blue body in the mirror. She had been taking the pills and giving herself the necessary injections, so these changes in her appearance would last for an indeterminate amount of time. At first, it had taken quite some getting used to—not only had the shade of Avoneii’s skin changed entirely, but its texture had as well. This Thyran visage felt cool and silky, the hue so beautiful that it nearly shone. In this skin, Avoneii felt flawless. Dmitri hadn’t yet made love to her in this body—though they’d both very much wanted to, they’d been made nervous and exhausted from travelling. Now, they could finally rest together, even if only for a little while.

Avoneii trailed a hand down over her belly and then lower, spreading her pussy lips with her fingers , inspecting the smooth bare skin of her Thyran sex, already swollen and shimmering with wetness. This was another side effect of the medicines. Thryans had notoriously sensitive bodies, they were genetically engineered with pleasure in mind.

She began to rub her clit in small circles, slow at first and then faster. She bucked her hips and gasped, her knees trembling at the sensation. Avoneii realized that she was going to come apart almost too quickly at this rate, yet that was almost what she needed. The blue woman looked up and saw Dmitri now standing in the doorway, a glass tumbler in his hand, watching her with a deep and burning look in his azure eyes. In the dying artificial sunlight, a long pale scar stood out in sharp relief on the side of his face. He raised the glass of amber liquid to his mouth and took a long, deliberate swallow, his eyes hard and cold. That look left her shivering with anticipation.

His movements heavy and deliberate, Dmitri set the glass down on the small table to the left of the doorway. Avoneii’s legs shook with desire, her hand stilled above her burning sex.

″Turn over,″ he ordered her, crossing the room. His footsteps echoed along the floorboards until he was standing right behind her. Avoneii obligingly turned until she was resting comfortably on her stomach on the bed, her ass ever so slightly raised as if on display the way that he liked. She heard his hand slice through the air and then it met her bottom with a stinging slap. Letting out a light sigh, she bucked forward, squeezing her thighs together as her naked skin tingled wildly.

″You are a naughty little slut, aren’t you?″ Dmitri hissed, grabbing her by the hips and slapping her rear end once again as he pulled her closer to him. He stilled his hand on the cheek of her ass and then slid it down lower, slowly, until he was teasing her opening with two long fingers. ″Look how wet you are. A whore, that’s what you always were, a greedy little whore.″

The blue-skinned woman moaned, felt another rush of wetness between her legs, dripping down her thighs. Dmitri positioned the head of his swollen cock at Avoneii’s soaking entrance. ″Tell me you want me inside of you,″ he begged, needing her to talk to him the way that he had taught her, the way he loved. Gods, he ached to be buried in her slick heat. She shifted her hips in a motion that was both wanton and elegant, giving him even better access.

″Yes, Dmitri, please,″ she whispered. ″I want to feel your cock in me, I want you to fuck me and then cum in my pussy.″

Dmitri let out a ragged groan at her filthy and wonderful words and obliged her, plunging into her burning sex, filling her to the hilt with one swift movement. Avoneii’s tight cunt clutched and spasmed around him, she moaned as he stretched her inner walls. She arched her back, lifting her hips again so that he could better access her g-spot as he began to pump in and out of her in a wild and desperate rhythm.

″Tell me that you’re my perfect little slut,″ he ordered, yanking on his lover’s red tresses, something she loved.

″Aaaah,″ she cried out. ″Yes! Yes! I’m your perfect little cockslut! Fuck me harder, Dmitri, stuff my pussy full of your cock, I need it so bad!″

He had hoped to last longer but they had been too long deprived of each other and her words had pushed him over the edge. Soon he clutched her hips, gave one final thrust and then felt his seed jet inside of her in rapid bursts that left him shuddering.


Avoneii had known Dmitri for years. He was second in command of her father’s secret police and personal security both. But that was when she was still known as Galatea Frick, the daughter of Maximilian Frick, scientist, inventor, Chancellor of Lyra and the Outer Principalities. One of the richest, most powerful, and most deranged men in the entire world.

Galatea’s mother had died when she was an infant. Not much was known of the woman, except that she was supposedly very beautiful. There were many sordid rumours regarding her heritage, ties to the so-called heathen orders. In order to save face with his politics, Maximilian put a stop to those rumours right away. But as his daughter grew older, there were certain signs that simply could not be ignored. Frick suspected that she had deviant blood, that she would grow into the the pagan whore that her mother had been. It was around the time of Galatea’s Coming of Age when everything changed. A darkness had settled over the land like a cloak. This was when the famines began, when there were whispers of plague from the Lesser Networks, reaching as far inward as the southern borders of Neo Byzantium. There was talk among Frick’s own people that the Chancellor was growing unstable.

Dmitri recalled the night he’d first begun to realize the extent of what was going on. It was also the night that he, too, began watching Galatea even more closely. She was, obviously, lonely. And sensitive. Due to the Custodianship Laws that he himself put into affect after exiling Carlow Benet, (his daughter’s handmaiden, whom I shall speak more of later) Chancellor Frick could now forbid Galatea to leave the premises, and forbid he did. She was allowed to wander the palace grounds and the surrounding campus, but no farther. She was never to be permitted through the front gates without an escort. Galatea was particularly fond of one place, towards the eastern edges of the grounds, and this night Dmitri quietly followed her there. In that place was a standing relic of a time long past, part of her suppressed heritage on her dead heathen mother’s side—a temple to the old gods and goddesses. It was lovely in there, where the torches burned, kept alight by some superstitious and anonymous villager.

Galatea slipped quietly into the old temple. Those torches still burned, casting shadows along the walls. There was a large statue in the corner, an old relic, shaped like a sphinx, large enough to climb onto. She slipped the robe from her shoulders, so that she was naked except for her jewellery, unaware that she was being watched. Hiding out of sight in the shadows behind a large stone column, Dmitri sucked in a breath at the site of her body, her lush breasts and pert little nipples that hardened at the touch of air, her shaved sex. He felt his cock begin to swell, unable to tear his eyes away as Galatea hesitantly climbed onto the statue, strategically resting her bare pussy against a slightly raised portion of the marble. Then she slowly began to rock back and forth, grinding down onto the sphinx. She began to feel it, to find her rhythm. Her eyelids fluttered closed and her hips started to move more quickly, firmly pressing her sex against the marble ridge.

Dmitri watched her from the shadows, clumsily riding the stone sphinx, a wanton flush staining her skin. Galatea’s features were ecstatic in discovery at the sensations that she was coaxing out of her body. Would she soon near the peak of her pleasure? Had she yet brought herself off fully or was this something as not yet achieved? Dmitri hardened at the thought of her lithe naked body writhing against him, her soft plump velvet sex under his steady fingertips as he coaxed her juices from her. This fantasy was quickly dissipated when the Guard took notice of another figure in the darkness on the other side of the catacomb. It was a man, one of the other guards, one of Maximilian’s advisors, Tyfrek. Dmitri narrowed his eyes when he saw that one of the man’s hands was moving between his legs, presumably jacking off, and with the other he held up a small electronic device that Dmitri recognized—Tyfrek was filming Galatea without her knowledge. His stomach churned at the thought of how many other times this may have happened, and what was being done with this footage.

Galatea’s hips moved faster now, she let out a little echoing moan of pleasure and brought her hands up to cup her breasts, tugging a little on her erect nipples. She bent forward slightly, her breath coming quicker as she humped the sphinx relentlessly, until there came a loud gasp of pleasure and she bucked forward, spasming in climax.

After that night, Dmitri set out to discover how long Tyfrek had been filming Galatea, and for what purpose. He arranged the schedule so that he would overlap with Maximilian’s personal guards during the shift change. Perhaps then he would overhear something. And he did.

Tyfrek and one of the other men were laughing. ″I gave the tapes to Maximilian, just as he requested. But not before I made copies, obviously. Sold them to some of the guys, made a killing. Everyone wants into that little slut’s pants. She’s practically in heat.″

He shook his head. ″I say one night we give that pussy exactly what it needs.″

Dmitri’s blood ran a little colder at this. His head spun. Maximilian had ordered Tyfrek to film Galatea...pleasuring herself? He needed to think. But his blood still burned, his body charged with what he had witnessed. Release would have to come so that he could adequately process these strange new developments, and decide how to proceed. To seek this release, Dmitri left the limits of Chancellor Frick’s domain and traveled discreetly to New Babylon, a small city where all manners of pleasure might be sought, known as the ‘Last Oasis.’ It was here that he entered a small yet elegant brothel, the interior of which was very familiar to him. The proprietor, Madam Maiko, greeted him and ushered him inside, leading him into one of the back rooms, where he could peruse the offerings.

″Ah, Dmitri,″ Madam Maiko said, smiling to reveal her missing teeth. ″Back for another girl? I know Neko has been missing you.″

She stepped to the side to reveal a small young woman with almond eyes and blue tinted hair, wearing nothing but a few thin, strategically placed strips of fabric. She smiled impishly and bowed her head to him. Neko was one of his favourites, she seemed to genuinely enjoy the submissive role he requested of her during their time together. Yet somehow, she wasn’t what he wanted right now. The guard found his eyes wandering to a slight, lovely girl toward the back of the line, with fair skin and long golden hair. Lust socked him in the stomach as he motioned her forward. She had the same body shape and basic features as Galatea, was perhaps not as innocently beautiful in the face, but he didn’t expect her to be.

″This is Tatiana,″ Madam Maiko introduced her.

″Tatiana,″ repeated Dmitri, stroking a hand over her cheek and then down to her ripe breasts.

″Come with me,″ he said gently, taking her by the hand and leading her into one of the back rooms.

″I’m going to call you ‘Princess’,″ he told her, and then shut the door.

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