"Janet Morris - Silistra 1 - High Couch of Silistra" - читать интересную книгу автора (Morris Janet E)

upbringing have been well attended to, your social and economic posi-tion secured. But what is it to be without the
touch
of a mother's hand, the comforting circle of her arms, in those difficult times of youth? No recording can give you that
which has been denied by fate and need. If you can bear me no ill will for the frailty of my flesh, I will know it, for I
have demanded of my eternal spirit that it watch over you all your days. I have no doubt that this will be so." She
stopped, swallowed hard, blinking.
"That is the worst of it, I think," continued my mother.
"Now that there is understanding between us, child unborn, I would speak to you of your father, and what was
between us, your parents. Though we were couch-met, it was as if I had known him for a thou-sand forevers. Our races
are only semicompatible, hence the long term which I will carry you, and my projected death at your birth. The benefits
to the is-sue of such a union far outweigh the debits. You will live twice, perhaps three times the normal Silistran span.
Were you slow maturing, little one? You now know the reason. Within you lie dormant abilities far beyond the ken of
those around you, and in time you will come to know them.
"We are as children to your father's people, and he did me great honor in choosing me to bear his get. Which brings
me to the chaldra I would put upon you. It is my wish, and that of your sire also, that you seek him and meet with him,
be it here on Silistra or upon the planet of his birth. Little help can I give you in your task, for there is a testing in its
accomplishment, but be sure that there is reason greater than any you could dream in our request. The time is short,
and I must hurry." She looked down for a moment at something off the screen.
"You-will soon see the moment of your conception. What prompted me to record our coupling, I do not know, unless
it was the meeting that preceded this record. You will understand, when you view it, why you have not received this
until, in your own blossom-ing maturity, you have become wise in the ways of men.
"When the record is ended, put your hand be-neath the cube, and receive the ring of your father. The ring is the key.
Keep it on your person, even in sleep, until you rest within your father's house. It will identify you and keep you safe
among his people, should your search take you so far."
She smiled, a smile I will never forget.
"It is, child of my heart, a great sadness to me that our meeting and parting be so close together. Re-member, Estri, I
love you and am with you ever. Tasa, Estri Hadrath diet Estrazi."
The grayed screen flickered, became what could only have been the magnificent keep of my mother, the Keepress.
I saw her, upon the silver covers of the couch, and her skin glistened with sweat. Her breasts rose and fell with her
impassioned breathing, nipples flushed and erect. She leaned back on stiff arms, naked, her marvelous long legs
outstretched, slightly spread, her feet beneath the iridescent coverlet.
The room was candlelit, and the light flickered and glowed about her.
"Come, then, barbarian god," she taunted, teeth flashing, "come and take me, if you can. Put that deathly seed of
yours where it will do the most good." She laughed low, and tossed her head. Her hair fell curling across her left
breast.
"You must petition me more prettily than that, well woman, before I fill your belly." The second voice was deep,
undeniably commanding, full of strange sibi-lances. "Surely you cannot expect to do so little, and receive so much.
Show me the skills that have made you high-couch here. Or, perhaps, you do not truly possess them?"
With a leap from the darkness, he was on her, one knee beside each of her breasts, his hand still upon her throat. He
turned his head to her left shoulder, and his face, eyes heavy-lidded in his heat, was clearly defined.
He was indeed and truly my father. His eyes and hair were the color of molten bronze, his skin but
scant tones lighter. His body was light-boned for his mass, and the muscles rippled in long flat slabs as he crouched
above her.
I watched him use her, and I have never seen a woman so diabolically aroused, so freed from the bonds of mind, so
deliciously debased. He brought her, leaping to his hand, to the edge of climax three times before he allowed her to
attempt to please him. Finally, acquiescing to her desperate pleas, he lay back and allowed her to work her skills on
him. Their multilingual love-abuse encompassed all that I knew and went beyond.
Once he pulled her head from his lap, and holding her arched back by the hair, said in archaic Silistran, "You are truly
worthy to be high-couch," and thrust her head back down.
When he was ready, he lifted her into the air and set her down upon him as one might lift a young child of no