The Conquerors Bloodline - Chapter 295: Marigold's Struggle

Marigold’s belly ached.

She stared at the ceiling, bare and naked bare that single lighting fixture that was well and truly off. She’d tried to avoid it, ignore those noises, those slaps and squishes and grunts and pants and moans and more. But she couldn’t.

Her ears heard it all, so loudly, so clearly, she realized this guest bed of hers was above the lounge. Where she and Blake had left Kali and Parc and now… now they were making love… no, not quite. What they were doing, it… there wasn’t any love to it. It was so animalistic…

She could hear them both, Kali’s dulcet cries and Parc’s harsh grunts. She’d heard him before when he’d had sex with Blake in their room some time ago. They were young, just barely out of their teens or soon to be, so she couldn’t blame them for relishing the other’s body, but now he was bedding Blake’s mother.

The idea was odd and horrible. She couldn’t imagine Bleu sleeping with her mother. Just the notion twisted something in her stomach that sickened her to the core.

Gripping her pillow, Marigold tried to fold it over her ears as a makeshift muffle to those noises but even forced to be softer, they rumbled loud enough to push through the porous feather insides. Constantly she’d shift, force her eyes shut and try to sleep. She’d even tried to treat those cries like the whine of a fan left on at night. White noise to help her to bed.

It didn’t work.

Marigold flipped onto her back, eyes wide and staring up at the ceiling as she heard Kali screaming out Parc’s name followed by a slovenly cry of orgasm. Her cheeks heated red, to the point she swore steam was rising off them.

There wasn’t any way she was going to get to bed while they were… busy, so to say.

Sitting herself up, she sighed and dropped her head. ‘Maybe some exercise will help,’ sliding from the bed she brought her barren feet to the chilly wood floorboards and stood. For minutes she paced, back and forth around the bed, to the wardrobe to the window to the door, hoping the constant movement would tire her out and bide her enough time for them to finish up downstairs.

By the tenth minute… things had only gotten worse. Kali was louder, wailing unremorsefully lusting cries that Marigold feared would rumble the house apart. “Isn’t she worried Blake will hear?” Looking to the dark oak beneath her feet she began to squirm uncomfortably. The meandering walk hadn’t done anything for her but make her breathe a little faster. Even then, it wasn’t enough for her to feel tired.

Sighing, she returned to the bed. Seating herself on the edge she leaned her face into her hands and chewed her lip. If she had earplugs, she would have put them in.

When she pulled her hands away and sat slumped on the bed, she felt bags rise beneath her eyes. Not the type that brought tiredness, no, but those types that were there just to be frustrating and uncomfortable.

She peered between her legs, latching to the floor and thought about just what it was he was doing to her to make her sound like that. It must have been quite good considering how vocal she must be. Hitting all the right places at all the right times.

Marigold wet her lips the quickly forced those thoughts away as she buried her palms into her eyes. Hoping, praying she could scrub those sick thoughts away. It’s wrong for a woman, a taken one at that, to be thinking of another man having relations with a woman… even if the woman was the mother of his lover and he was being less than fidel.

Grabbing her blanket she tucked herself rapidly into the bed, wrapping herself till the point she was uncomfortably tight in its fluffy and warm embrace, then snaked her hands out and pressed her hands over her ears and tried to sleep.

It of course didn’t work, didn’t work the last time, certainly wouldn’t work this time.

It was too present to be ignored. She could pass it off in the cruise ship but there it was muffled to a whisper.

Her eyes lazed open, blankly staring at the wall thinly illuminated by the opalescent moonlight shimmering in through the opened portcullis of a window, listening both unwillingly and with a rising fascination to the noises.

She twisted to her back, faced the ceiling and pursed her lips to lines. Parc’s image appeared in her eyes… no, that’s wrong, it should be Bleu’s, her husband. Marigold shook her head, forced Bleu’s to take her thoughts and froze. The image was clear, he stood over her at the head of the bed, a shadow, a titan, his eyes sharp and cold and lips curled into a scathing frown that made her take harsher, more fearful breaths.

A cry from below jolted her focus and the ghost twisted into the darkness, gone, for now. Marigold curled her legs up and rolled onto her side, shivering though warm.

There was a noticeable lapse in those lewd noises from below. Lasting all of a minute or two where she could hear them talking but couldn’t understand a thing. Not moments later when their chatter descended to nothing, did Kali moan once more.

It didn’t end…

It wouldn’t stop…

Minutes…

Hours may be…

She didn’t know anymore…

Marigold’s had snuck into her coiled cocoon of a blanket, inching down her body before finding her thighs and slowly pressed in the area of her nightgown near her crotch. The moment she did she felt dampness saturate the fabric and cling to her fingers. Down there, it was warm and steamy, all of which she ignored as she lulled her eyes to half-moons and let her fingers slowly caress along her slit.

The first breath that escaped her was just as heated and warm, silent bar the noises from below. Her slow motions only pressed against the shallowest layer of her nethers, stroking simply across sodden garb and baring the littlest of descents between her labium.

Down at the bottom, she began then slowly trailed up, trembling as the silken fabric clung to her skin and forested groin. At the tip, she found a bump, she paused at it, hesitantly peeling her hand away as a dull pain emanated from her memories of Bleu biting down on her clitoris. Hard, not enough to draw blood but enough to make her shirk away from ever thinking the clitoris could be a pleasurable spot.

That was until Parc popped into her mind. Let alone her memories of Blake and her beguiled cries, she had evidence of true bewitchment right here. Barely a few meters beneath her, crying her heart out as Parc made mush of her lowers was a woman so enraptured in sex it seemed wholly impossible.

Another ghost appeared in her eyes, not of Bleu this time, but of Parc. He stood across from her hazily opened eyes with a gentle expression. He leaned towards her, resting his hand on her cheek to whisper words incomprehensible but sweet into her ears then guided her onto her back. Peeling away her layers of blanket-like each was the delicate wing of a butterfly until she laid there stark and bruise… no… yet again, Marigold’s mind jostled oddly. There aren’t any bruises, not anymore. Parc already treated them, made them disappear with just a bit of cream and a tender massage.

His calloused hands reached the forefront of her mind. Rough and large, but thin enough that it didn’t matter. She imagined them reaching out to her, pressing between her clamped legs and prying open her legs. Marigold watch that shade as he licked his lips, lasciviously lavishing her furred vagina.

Wettly gulping, she couldn’t pry herself away as he darted his eyes to hers and back to her crotch and watched helplessly as he lowered himself down. Shrinking by the second till she could feel his warm breath stroking her lips. Quivering, he inched closer, let his mouth open and slick tongue snake out to find her labia through her dark golden bush.

His slick tongue stroked along her line, tenderly parting them as he crossed boundaries and paused by her clitoris. Marigold bit her lips, leaned her head back and clamped her eyes as he tenderly kissed the nub. His lips were soft, silky and smooth. Experienced quite well as he tended to the aching memories he bead left her with.

Soon he peeled away, leaving her panting and whining as he travelled to the centre of her slit and pierced into it. One hand lifted to her breast, pressed into the plump balloon and massaged the residual aches away. All whilst his eyes were turned up to her, watching her every panted breath to ensure he was doing her right.

Then suddenly, she heard them. Harsh rumbling footsteps ascending the staircase.

The shadow of Parc dissipated, replacing his tongue with her right hand and the massage of her breast with her left. She realized Kali had gone quiet but were replaced by footsteps. Marigold hastily sat up, eyed the door and flushed at the light peeking in from under the door frame. It shifted, two shadows formed in it, pausing right in the door frame like someone was looming just opposite it. She knew it wasn’t Kali. Something told her that she was a lot like Blake, or another way around, sleek and silent, never making more noise than necessary, unless being mated like an animal.

It had to be Parc. Did he hear her? She jolted her hand from her crotch, tugged her blanket back around her body and slumped onto her side. Desperately pretending to be asleep in case he entered the room to see her. Yet he never did.

The shadow slid from the door frame and after minutes, she heard a silent yowl from across the hall. Blake, she recognized that voice. He’d gone from mother to daughter, likely still stinking of the former.

Soon, another set of footsteps, much lighter, in fact, climbed the staircase. The shadows they cast were swift as they passed by and when they were gone, so too was the light from beyond the doorway. The final bastion between herself and a building of sex-crazed beasts…