Paul’s Atreides Women
Book Two: MUAD’DIB
Chapter 14, Part I
Muad’Dib tells us in "A Time of Reflection" that his first collisions with Arrakeen necessities were the true beginnings of his education. He learned then how to pole the sand for its weather, learned the language of the wind’s needles stinging his skin, learned how the nose can buzz with sand-itch and how to gather his body’s precious moisture around him to guard it and preserve it. As his eyes assumed the blue of the Ibad, he learned the Chakobsa way.
- Stilgar’s preface to "Muad’Dib, the Man" by the Princess Irulan
Stilgar’s troop returning to the sietch with its two strays from the desert climbed out
of the basin in the waning light of the first moon. The robed figures hurried with the smell of home in their nostrils. Dawn’s gray line behind them was brightest at the notch in their horizon-calendar that marked the middle of autumn, the month of Caprock.
Wind-raked dead leaves strewed the cliffbase where the sietch children had been gathering them, but the sounds of the troop’s passage (except for occasional blunderings by Paul and his mother) could not be distinguished from the natural sounds of the night.
Paul wiped sweat-caked dust from his forehead, felt a tug at his arm, heard Chani’s voice hissing. "Do as I told you: bring the fold of your hood down over your forehead! Leave only the eyes exposed. You waste moisture."
A whispered command behind them demanded silence: "The desert hears you!"
A bird chirruped from the rocks high above them.
The troop stopped, and Paul sensed abrupt tension.
There came a faint thumping from the rocks, a sound no louder than mice jumping in the sand.
Again, the bird chirruped.
A stir passed through the troop’s ranks. And again, the mouse-thumping pecked its way across the sand.
Once more, the bird chirruped.
The troop resumed its climb up into a crack in the rocks, but there was a stillness of breath about the Fremen now that filled Paul with caution, and he noted covert glances toward Chani, the way she seemed to withdraw, pulling in upon herself.
There was rock underfoot now, a faint gray swishing of robes around them, and Paul sensed a relaxing of discipline, but still that quiet-of-the-person about Chani and the others. He followed a shadow shape–up steps, a turn, more steps, into a tunnel, past two moisture-sealed doors and into a globelighted narrow passage with yellow rock walls and ceiling.
All around him, Paul saw the Fremen throwing back their hoods, removing nose plugs, breathing deeply. Someone sighed. Paul looked for Chani, found that she had left his side.
He was hemmed in by a press of robed bodies. Someone jostled him, said, "Excuse me, Usul. What a crush! It’s always this way."
On his left, the narrow bearded face of the one called Farok turned toward Paul. The stained eyepits and blue darkness of eyes appeared even darker under the yellow globes.
"Throw off your hood, Usul," Farok said. "You’re home." And he helped Paul, releasing the hood catch, elbowing a space around them.
Paul slipped out his nose plugs, swung the mouth baffle aside. The odor of the place assailed him: unwashed bodies, distillate esters of reclaimed wastes, everywhere the sour effluvia of humanity with, over it all, a turbulence of spice and spicelike harmonics.
"Why are we waiting, Farok?" Paul asked.
"For the Reverend Mother, I think. You heard the message – poor Chani."
Poor Chani? Paul asked himself. He looked around, wondering where she was, where his mother had got to in all this crush.
Farok took a deep breath. "The smells of home," he said.
Paul saw that the man was enjoying the stink of this air, that there was no irony in his tone.
He heard his mother cough then, and her voice came back to him through the press of the troop:
"How rich the odors of your sietch, Stilgar. I see you do much working with the spice... you make paper... plastics... and isn’t that chemical explosives?"
"You know this from what you smell?" It was another man’s voice.
And Paul realized she was speaking for his benefit, that she wanted him to make a quick acceptance of this assault on his nostrils.
There came a buzz of activity at the head of the troop and a prolonged indrawn breath that seemed to pass through the Fremen, and Paul heard hushed voices back down the line: "It’s true then – Liet is dead."
Liet, Paul thought. Then: Chani, daughter of Liet. The pieces fell together in his mind. Liet was the Fremen name of the planetologist.
Paul looked at Farok, asked: "Is it the Liet known as Kynes?"
"There is only one Liet," Farok said.
Paul turned, stared at the robed back of a Fremen in front of him. Then Liet-Kynes is dead, he thought.
"It was Harkonnen treachery," someone hissed. "They made it seem an accident... lost in the desert... a ’thopter crash... his body was not found…”
Paul felt a burst of anger. The man who had befriended them, helped save them from the Harkonnen hunters, the man who had sent his Fremen cohorts searching for two strays in the desert... another victim of the Harkonnens.
"Does Usul hunger yet for revenge?" Farok asked.
Before Paul could answer, there came a low call and the troop swept forward into a wider chamber, carrying Paul with them. He found himself in an open space confronted by Stilgar and a strange woman wearing a flowing wraparound garment of brilliant orange and green.
Her arms were bare to the shoulders, and he could see she wore no stillsuit. Her skin was a pale olive. Dark hair swept back from her high forehead, throwing emphasis on sharp cheekbones and aquiline nose between the dense darkness of her eyes. She turned toward him, and Paul saw golden rings threaded with water tallies dangling from her ears. He found her attractive in her own way.
"This bested my Jamis?" she demanded.
"Be silent, Harah," Stilgar said. "It was Jamis’ doing – he invoked the tahaddi al-burhan."
"He’s not but a boy!" she said. She gave her head a sharp shake from side to side, setting the water tallies to jingling. "My children made fatherless by another child? Surely, ’twas an accident!"
"Usul, how many years have you?" Stilgar asked.
"Fifteen standard," Paul said.
Stilgar swept his eyes over the troop. "Is there one among you cares to challenge me?"
Stilgar looked at the woman. "Until I’ve learned his weirding ways. I’d not challenge him."
She returned his stare. "But –"
"You saw the stranger, woman who went with Chani to the Reverend Mother?" Stilgar asked. "She’s an out-freyn Sayyadina, mother to this lad. The mother and son are masters of the weirding ways of battle."
"Lisan al-Gaib," the woman whispered. Her eyes held awe as she turned them back toward Paul.
The legend again, Paul thought.
"Perhaps," Stilgar said. "It hasn’t been tested, though." He returned his attention to Paul.
"Usul, it’s our way that you’ve now the responsibility for Jamis’ woman here and for his two sons. His yali... his quarters, are yours. His coffee service is yours... and this, his woman."
Paul studied the woman, she seemed slightly younger than his mother, had a beautiful sun tanned smooth skin, very long dark hair and wide brown eyes. She was very expressive in her emotions and should be a quite desirable woman among the Fremen. He wondered: Why isn’t she mourning her man? Why does she show no hate for me? Abruptly, he saw that the Fremen were staring at him, waiting.
Someone whispered: "There’s work to do. Say how you accept her."
Stilgar said: "Do you accept Harah as woman or servant?"
Harah lifted her arms, turning slowly on one heel. "I am still young, Usul. It’s said I still look as young as when I was with Geoff... before Jamis bested him."
Jamis killed another to win her, Paul thought, and she was certainly a woman that a man should fight for.
Paul said: "If I accept her as servant, may I yet change my mind at a later time?"
"You’d have a year to change your decision," Stilgar said. "After that, she’s a free woman to choose as she wishes... or you could free her to choose for herself at any time. But she’s your responsibility, no matter what, for one year... and you’ll always share some responsibility for the sons of Jamis."
"I accept her as servant," Paul said.
Harah stamped a foot, shook her shoulders with anger. "But I’m young!"
Stilgar looked at Paul, said: "Caution’s a worthy trait in a man who’d lead."
"But I’m young!" Harah repeated.
"Be silent," Stilgar commanded. "If a thing has merit, it’ll be. Show Usul to his quarters and see he has fresh clothing and a place to rest."
"Oh-h-h-h!" she said frustrated.
Paul had registered enough of her to have a first approximation. He felt the impatience of the troop, knew many things were being delayed here. He wondered if he dared ask the whereabouts of his mother and Chani, saw from Stilgar’s nervous stance that it would be a mistake.
He faced Harah, pitched his voice with tone and tremolo to accent her fear and awe, said:
"Show me my quarters, Harah! We will discuss your youth another time."
She backed away two steps, cast a frightened glance at Stilgar. "He has the weirding voice," she husked.
"Stilgar," Paul said. "Chani’s father put heavy obligation on me. If there’s anything... "
"It’ll be decided in council," Stilgar said. "You can speak then." He nodded in dismissal, turned away with the rest of the troop following him.
Paul took Harah’s arm, noting how cool and soft her flesh seemed, feeling her tremble. "I’ll not harm you, Harah," he said. "Show me our quarters." And he smoothed his voice with relaxants.
"You’ll not cast me out when the year’s gone?" she said. "I know for true I’m not as young as once I was."
"As long as I live you’ll have a place with me," he said. He released her arm and smiled to her. "Come now, where are our quarters?"
She turned, led the way down the passage, turning right into a wide cross tunnel lighted by evenly spaced yellow overhead globes. The stone floor was smooth, swept clean of sand.
Paul moved up beside her, studied the aquiline profile as they walked. "You do not hate me, Harah?"
"Why should I hate you?"
She nodded to a cluster of children who stared at them from the raised ledge of a side passage. Paul glimpsed adult shapes behind the children partly hidden by filmy hangings.
"I... bested Jamis."
"Stilgar said the ceremony was held and you’re a friend of Jamis." She glanced sidelong at him.
"Stilgar said you gave moisture to the dead. Is that truth?"
"It’s more than I’ll do... can do."
"Don’t you mourn him?"
"In the time of mourning, I’ll mourn him."
They passed an arched opening. Paul looked through it at men and women working with standmounted machinery in a large, bright chamber. There seemed an extra tempo of urgency to them.
"What’re they doing in there?" Paul asked.
She glanced back as they passed beyond the arch, said: "They hurry to finish the quota in the plastics shop before we flee. We need many dew collectors for the planting."
"Until the butchers stop hunting us or are driven from our land."
Paul caught himself in a stumble, sensing an arrested instant of time, remembering a fragment, a visual projection of prescience–but it was displaced, like a montage in motion. The bits of his prescient memory were not quite as he remembered them.
"The Sardaukar hunt us," he said.
"They’ll not find much excepting an empty sietch or two," she said. "And they’ll find their share of death in the sand."
"They’ll find this place?" he asked.
"Yet we take the time to... " He motioned with his head toward the arch now far behind them."... make... dew collectors?"
"The planting goes on."
"What’re dew collectors?" he asked.
The glance she turned on him was full of surprise. "Don’t they teach you anything in the... wherever it is you come from?"
"Not about dew collectors."
"Hai!" she said, and there was a whole conversation in the one word.
"Well, what are they?"
"Each bush, each weed you see out there in the erg," she said, "how do you suppose it lives when we leave it? Each is planted most tenderly in its own little pit. The pits are filled with smooth ovals of chromoplastic. Light turns them white. You can see them glistening in the dawn if you look down from a high place. White reflects. But when Old Father Sun departs, the chromoplastic reverts to transparency in the dark. It cools with extreme rapidity. The surface condenses moisture out of the air.
That moisture trickles down to keep our plants alive."
"Dew collectors," he muttered, enchanted by the simple beauty of such a scheme.
"I’ll mourn Jamis in the proper time for it," she said, as though her mind had not left his other question. "He was a good man, Jamis, but quick to anger. A good provider, Jamis, and a wonder with the children. He made no separation between Geoff’s boy, my firstborn, and his own true son. They were equal in his eyes." She turned a questing stare on Paul. "Would it be that way with you, Usul?"
"We don’t have that problem."
"But if –"
She recoiled at the harsh edge in his voice.
"Why did Jamis killed Geoff?" asked Paul.
"He wanted to take me to his bed…"
Paul was only partially surprised by her answer, but he didn’t show any emotion.
They passed another brightly lighted room visible through an arch on their left. "What’s made there?" he asked.
"They repair the weaving machinery," she said. "But it must be dismantled by tonight." She gestured at a tunnel branching to their left. "Through there and beyond, that’s food processing and stillsuit maintenance." She looked at Paul. "Your suit looks new. But if it needs work, I’m good with suits. I work in the factory in season."
They began coming on knots of people now and thicker clusterings of openings in the tunnel’s sides.
A file of men and women passed them carrying packs that gurgled heavily, the smell of spice strong about them.
"They’ll not get our water," Harah said. "Or our spice. You can be sure of that."
Paul glanced at the openings in the tunnel walls, seeing the heavy carpets on the raised ledge, glimpses of rooms with bright fabrics on the walls, piled cushions. People in the openings fell silent at their approach, followed Paul with untamed stares.
"The people find it strange you bested Jamis," Harah said. "Likely you’ll have some proving to do when we’re settled in a new sietch."
"I don’t like killing," he said.
"Thus Stilgar tells it," she said, but her voice betrayed her disbelief.
A shrill chanting grew louder ahead of them. They came to another side opening wider than any of the others Paul had seen. He slowed his pace, staring in at a room crowded with children sitting crosslegged on a maroon-carpeted floor.
At a chalkboard against the far wall stood a woman in a yellow wraparound, a projecto-stylus in one hand. The board was filled with designs–circles, wedges and curves, snake tracks and squares, flowing arcs split by parallel lines. The woman pointed to the designs one after the other as fast as she could move the stylus, and the children chanted in rhythm with her moving hand.
Paul listened, hearing the voices grow dimmer behind as he moved deeper into the sietch with Harah.
"Tree," the children chanted. "Tree, grass, dune, wind, mountain, hill, fire, lightning, rock, rocks, dust, sand, heat, shelter, heat, full, winter, cold, empty, erosion, summer, cavern, day, tension, moon, night, caprock, sandtide, slope, planting, binder... "
"You conduct classes at a time like this?" Paul asked.
Her face went somber and grief edged her voice: "What Liet taught us, we cannot pause an instant in that. Liet who is dead must not be forgotten. It’s the Chakobsa way."
She crossed the tunnel to the left, stepped up onto a ledge, parted gauzy orange hangings and stood aside: "Your yali is ready for you, Usul."
Paul hesitated before joining her on the ledge. He felt a sudden reluctance to be alone with this widow, she was attractive, but he didn’t want any additional problem. It came to him that he was surrounded by a way of life that could only be understood by postulating an ecology of ideas and values. He felt that this Fremen world was fishing for him, trying to snare him in its ways. And he knew what lay in that snare–the wild jihad, the religious war he felt he should avoid at any cost.
"This is your yali," Harah said. "Why do you hesitate?"
“Because you are a beautiful woman!” he answered.
She smiled, happy with his answer. Paul nodded, joined her on the ledge. He lifted the hangings across from her, feeling metal fibers in the fabric, followed her into a short entrance way and then into a larger room, square, about six meters to a side – thick blue carpets on the floor, blue and green fabrics hiding the rock walls, glowglobes tuned to yellow overhead bobbing against draped yellow ceiling fabrics.
The effect was that of an ancient tent.
Harah stood in front of him, left hand on hip, provocative, her eyes studying his face. "The children are with a friend," she said. "They will present themselves later."
Paul masked his unease beneath a quick scanning of the room. Thin hangings to the right, he saw, partly concealed a larger room with cushions piled around the walls. He felt a soft breeze from an air duct, saw the outlet cunningly hidden in a pattern of hangings directly ahead of him. Further deep in the cavern there was another room, much smaller, that could be used as a bedroom.
"Do you wish me to help you remove your stillsuit?" Harah asked.
"Yes... thank you."
Harah let her robe felt on the carpet. Beneath she wore only a sandy-brown tunic, without sleeves that let her arms naked, and with a slight cleavage made him foresee breasts still full of life. She shake her slim body and let the tunic felt near the cape to show that she had another tunic, much smaller underneath. This smaller tunic was shorter on the bottom and barely covered her hips leaving visible all her legs. When she turned away and bent to catch the longer tunic and the robe, Paul could see her ass checks coming out below the tunic’s fabric.
She approached Paul and begun to help him. He could feel her hot breath in his neck, while she would undress him. When he only had his combat trunks she said:
“Those need to get out. They need to be washed, you stink!”
Jamis’ widow knelt down before him and bended forward. Her tunic went loose and Paul could see her naked breasts wagging.
In that moment she place a hand in each side of his hips, pushed his trunks down and his penis went free so near her face that he felt her breath. He had to control himself to not push his hips forward and introduce his penis in Harah’s mouth.
Jessica entered the yali to see her son naked being washed by Jamis’ widow. For a moment she kept quiet, staring to the other woman washing her son’s naked body. His arousal was notorious, almost amusing to see his erect penis while Harah caressed his body with a humid piece of fabric, like she was washing him, and took the opportunity to brush her body against him.
“Sayyadina!” saluted Harah when their eyes met. She lowered her eyes as she had been caught steeling water “You can use the inner room, my children won’t bother you there.”
“You can’t call me Sayaadina yet.” Jessica went to another corner and begun to remove her own stillsuit. Who divides this yali whit us?”
“Just me and my two sons, my Lady. Do you need help?”
“No, you can help first my son. I will invite Chani to sleep here, I don’t want her alone tonight.”
Jessica removed the stillsuit and the inner tunic and for a moment she standed there completely naked, just two meters away from her son. He stared at her with lust and desire, knowing that he couldn’t make any move in front of the Fremen woman.
It was then that Harah moved the humid cloth to his member and begun softly to clean it. He was on the edge even without even knowing it. He exploded there in her hands, in the humid cloth, spelling his sperm everywhere.
“So much water!” commented Harah.
“Now you can help me, Harah.” The Fremen woman turned around and obeyed, beginning to wash Jessica, she still took a last look to Paul’s naked body, with his penis beginning to shrink.
“I am still young, Usul.” Without understaning why Paul’s member pulsed at the sound of those words.
Chani arrived in that moment. Paul took some time to recover and cover himself picking a robe form the floor to hide his sex. Seeing his embarrassment, Chani laugh in a mocking tone.
“You shouldn’t use a woman’s robe inside the sietch.” With a gesture she gave a tug and picked the robe from Paul’s hands letting him unarmed against her stare. “You should wear a tunic.”
She picked one from a pile, probably from Jamis, and offered it to him. Paul put it on before Chani’s amused look.
"Shall I bring food?" asked Harah delivering another short tunic to Jessica.
“All this area belongs to a reclamation chamber." She gestured. "For our comfort and convenience we don’t need the stillsuit here."
"You said we have to leave this sietch," Paul said. "Shouldn’t we be packing or something?"
"It will be done in its time," she said. "The butchers have yet to penetrate to our region."
Still she hesitated, staring at him.
"What is it?" he demanded.
"You’ve not the eyes of the Ibad," she said. "It’s strange but not entirely unattractive."
"Get the food," he said blushing. "I’m hungry."
She smiled at him – a knowing, woman’s smile that he found disquieting. "I am your servant," she said, and whirled away in one lithe motion, ducking behind a heavy wall hanging that revealed another passage before falling back into place.
Feeling angry with himself, he looked to Chani and calmed down slowly.
“I had… have… a great respect by Liet!” said Paul, remembering that Liet was probably dead.
“It is just a rumor…” Jessica approached the girl and embraced her, giving her some comfort. Paul found them quite tender.
“Where is your mother?” asked Jessica.
“We have plenty if space here in the yali, you will stay with us,” said Jessica.
Chani nodded, accepting the invite and sitting on the floor.
Paul brushed through the thin hanging on the right and into the larger room. He stood there a moment caught by uncertainty. And he wondered about Chani’s state of mind... Chani who had probably lost her father.
We’re alike in that, he thought. We don’t know our fathers fate!
Then, for a moment he had an egoistic thought. Now, if she wanted to make, to whom she would ask?”
A wailing cry sounded from the outer corridors, its volume muffled by the intervening hangings. It was repeated, a bit more distant. And again. Paul realized someone was calling the time. He focused on the fact that he had seen no clocks.
The faint smell of burning creosote bush came to his nostrils, riding on the omnipresent stink of the sietch. Paul saw that he had already suppressed the odorous assault on his senses.
And he wondered again about his mother, how the moving montage of the future would incorporate her... Mutable time-awareness danced around him. He shook his head sharply, focusing his attention on the evidences that spoke of profound depth and breadth in this Fremen culture that had swallowed them.
With its subtle oddities.
He had seen a thing about the caverns and this room, a thing that suggested far greater differences than anything he had yet encountered.
There was no sign of a poison snooper here, no indication of their use anywhere in the cave warren. Yet he could smell poisons in the sietch stench– strong ones, common ones.
He heard a rustle of hangings, thought it was Harah returning with food, and turned to watch her.
Instead, from beneath a displaced pattern of hangings, he saw two young boys –
perhaps aged nine and ten – staring out at him with greedy eyes. Each wore a small kindjal-type of crysknife, rested a hand on the hilt.
And Paul recalled the stories of the Fremen – that their children fought as ferociously as the adults.
Later, they all went to sleep when the sun arise outside.
The room was warm and they all sleep with a loin-cloth or a light tunic under the heavy robes used as blankets. Jessica slept on Paul’s right side, Harah on his left and then Chani. The two children were on the other side of the room.
Paul woke up with movement. Harah was no longer on his left side. He heard some brushing and stayed alert and tense.
“Shh…” he heard Harah.
A robe slipped down and exposed his chest. For a moment he felt cold. Then he saw Harah. Her chest was bared like his own, and her breasts bobbed freely. One swept his chest, moving down. Her soft skin was delicious to the contact.
“Shh…” he heard.
Her warm humid mouth kissed his chest, then his belly. While her languid body warmed him. The glowglobes gave a dim light so he could only see the shadow forms of her figure.
“I am still young.” He heard.
He closed his eyes and staid blind to all but to his pleasure, she bent over him, her hair falling and tickling his sensitive skin, her mouth near his penis, his skin sensing her warm breath. Her hands gently touched him, massaging him, finding spots of pleasure.
Then she moved her body up and down, brushing him, continuing the motion of her hands all over his body, and licking the tip of the penis each time it passed within reach of her tongue. All her body brushed against him. Her breasts brushed him, up and down, all over his body, from his toes, up to his muscular legs, her nipples touching his penis, his chest, provoking him in his lips, running away when he opened his mouth to suck them.
Without even noticing he emitted a long groan. His body began to convulse and raised itself to be consumed by her hands and mouth, to be devoured, to be sucked.
“I am still young.” He heard again.
She brushed his body one last time and finally closed her lips around his enlarged manhood. And sucked. He opened his eyes and raised his head to see her head bobbing up and down. He caressed her hair, her face and stretched his arms to grab both her boobs to play with her nipples.
Even in his pleasure he gained conscience of the noise they made and look around. His mother had turned to their side with her eyes opened, focused on Harah’s head. Was she smiling? He couldn’t tell with the globes dim light.
Paul’s right hand left Harah’s boob and, under the robes, searched for his mother’s body. He knew that she was half-naked under the robes. He had seen her when they went to sleep. He explored and touched and found. He grabbed one of her breasts. And moaned again. Higher. Jessica cupped his hand on hers. Her breast was so full, so firm, so soft. He compared both breasts. The one in his right hand, her mother’s breast. The one in his left hand, round and opulent, moving with all Harah’s body.
Harah begun to play with her tongue. Taunting him. She was young! So young…
Then he looked to the other side! Chani was also awake! She was seated in her place looking to him. Her white tunic glowing in the half-darkness. The straps of her tunic had fallen. In the thin material Paul could see her erect nipples poking, pressed against the fabric. Her shoulders were naked and the upper parts of her breasts were exposed to his eyes only. Her breath was fast, almost has fast as Harah’s, and she had her mouth opened, her teeth whiter than her tunic. She was so beautiful…
His left hand had to leave Harah’s breast, while the other one was maintained in his mother’s chest under the cover of the robes. He extended his left hand to Chani, to caress her face. She was too far and she had to approach him. She bended forward to give him a quick kiss in his mouth. And her tunic opened enough so he could see her perky breasts.
Harah looked up and saw the reason of his hand was no longer with her. She grumbled and used her teeth to show her discontent. Paul didn’t care, he was totally lost.
Chani took his thumb in her mouth while his hand caressed her sweet elfin face. And she sucked almost as hard as Harah. On his right side he also noticed some movement. With her breast in his hand he could sense that Jessica’s body was moving in rhythm, as she was pleasing herself.
It was too much. Paul was beaten. The semen arrived, like little waves of wind caressing the dunes, one rolling upon another, little waves of wind spice. Then Harah enclosed the spent penis tenderly in her mouth, caressing it with her tongue, to collect the precious liquid of love. Paul raised his head a final time just to see that Harah’s two sons were also awaken and were also attentive spectators. Why nobody slept in that cave?
Harah didn’t knew or didn’t care. She raised her body and crashed her breasts against his chest and took his mouth in hers to pass some of his sperm. Paul received it and battled her with his tongue. His penis, now shrinking, sensed Harah’s humidity between her legs. His left hand left Chani’s face to go under Harah’s tunic, evolved her waist, and grab her ass cheek and slide a finger in her gully all the way down, passing her butt hole, and almost reaching her vulva.
Then Harah raised again her body and reached Chani, kissing her on the lips and emptying the sperm that she still had in her mouth. Chani laugh and tried to get away, but she finally accepted the water and kissed back Harah.
Harah slid to his side, embracing him and rested her head in his neck, smashing her soft boobs against him. At her back, Chani embraced her, cuddling her from behind with a soft smile in her face. On his right side he finally relieved the pressure in his mother’s breast. To his surprise, Jessica moved and kissed his forehead before she also crushed her breasts against his right side, embracing him, and nesting her head in his neck and falling asleep.
But Paul awoke some time after. There was a déjà vu. A hand was stroking his penis, already half-erect. He was still embracing two women. Harah on his left side, his mother on his right. Harah was asleep, breathing smoothly against him. He turned his head to the right side and saw his mother awake, her body trembling softly at the rhythm of her strokes.
Once Jessica sensed that he was awake again, she released his penis and stood up, displaying totally her nakedness besides the small loin-cloth covering her lower parts. This time all the others were asleep. The children, Chani and Harah. Jessica called Paul with a movement with her head. Paul moved, gave a soft kiss on Harah’s face and got free of her embrace without awakening her. Even so she moaned and rolled to the other side embracing Chani. The girl, also asleep, received the older woman in her arms.
Paul smiled. They made a tender picture.
Then he got up and followed his mother to the inner room. She felt on her knees and he bend behind her, his hands eager to touch her and to find her in the dark. His hands found her hips, and he pushed the loin-cloth up, exposing her round soft ass. The tip of his penis touched her buttocks but quickly Jessica grabbed it and conducted it to her. She was totally wet, honey dropping from her. His member just slipped inside, from behind. She arched her back and turn her head to kiss him, he just spooned against her, while she pushed her ass back against him, and he squeezed the fat softness of her derriere before roaming his hands all over her soft body to find her erect nipples. She raised her arm to his head and grabbed it by his hair against her.
She was in a rush and it was quick. He came first but maintained his strength to keep pumping some more seconds until she followed him when she felt his white hot water with life inside her.
They stood there, immobile, cuddling, he inside her, feeling his penis shrink and slipping out slowly, even if sometimes he moved his hips, pumping, to delay it. While he just covered her with kisses, in the neck, in the shoulders, in her back, and his fingers played and brushed her full breasts and erect nipples. Without wanting to leave her he passed his head below her arm so his mouth could reached her breast and his hand moved down to her wet vagina, where their fluids got together, and he let a finger between her inside lips, rushing all the way from the base of his wrinkled penis until her turgid clitoris. And he begun to massage her while sucking her breast. His penis without ever leaving her begun slowly to gain life again. And she begun slowly to move her hips with a smile in her face.
“I could use this inner room as my quarters to have more privacy.”
He nodded with his mouth full of her tit.
“I like Harah,” said Jessica.
He nodded again and grunted. His mouth didn’t want to leave her breast.
“I like Chani.”
She was teasing him. They continued in that slow rhythm for a long time. But they didn’t reach the orgasm again. They had to disengage when they begun to hear the sietch gaining life for a new journey.
It was his first raid.
The Harkonnen were totally surprised and obliterated.
The Fremen sacked the Harkonnen outpost, removing all the technology and spice before blowing it all.
There were no Harkonnen survivors. The wounded, the ones that surrended were all executed.
Usul had its first lesson.
At dawn they retreated to a small sietch, between the attacked fortress and Arraken. The Fremen column could have marched south. But going North, in direction of Arraken, was the least expected move.
Paul had fight well. He had a clear conscience after killing personally three Harkonnen. At first he felt well… then he felt dirty and he recalled his mother’s words “Well, now –how does it feel to be a killer?”
When they arrive to the sietch entrance, Paul and Farok were received by two guards.
“Farok, welcome, we just received two women now…”
“Two women?” inquired Farok.
“Shadout Mapes and another one… she is not a Fremen…”
“Alia…” shouted Paul running to the cavern, “my sister”, he thought. “Alia!”
He digressed trough corridors shouting, almost screaming “Mapes! Alia!” his heart pumping blood quickly. He would finally see his sister again.
Shadout Mapes come to his way. They shocked and embraced in an antechamber at the soft yellow light of glowglobes.
“Mapes! Mapes!” in his joy he kissed her in her lips without even realizing it. He took her in his arms. His hands were on her face and on her hair and he kissed her again all over her face again and again. “Where is Alia?”
The Fremen woman was surprised by his euphoria and smiled before him, embracing him and returning his kisses, allowing herself a brief moment of happiness. In her arms she noticed that he had grown up in those days. His muscles were better developed and he was not so fat with unnecessary water.
She finally turned him away to get some space to breath.
“Alia is not with me!”
His euphoria almost died in that moment. He had so many expectations. His mouth was opened so he could breathe, but his eyes made a unspoken question. Before Mapes could answer another figure got closer.
“Paul!” he turned to the woman who called him.
“Iphigenia!” he left Mape’s arms to hug his wet nurse. Seeing her diminished the disappointment that he had for not meeting his sister. He begun to lull her in his arms kissing her face. Felling her huge breasts against his stillsuit. And the three felt in one large embrace.
“Alia is safe for now!” whispered Mapes.
“Where is she?” he asked still in the comfort of the women arms.
“She is in Arraken.” And the two women quickly informed him of all the past events.
“At night fall the column will return home, but I will proceed to Arraken. I will get my sister.”
“We will go with you!” said Iphigenia.
“No…” he answered abruptly. Then he caressed her face softly to reduce the rudeness of his negative response. “You will go with the column, back to Sietch Tabr.”
“You are not a fremen yet, Paul” said Mapes, “You don’t know all the sietchs in the route to Arraken. You don’t know the palace, or the safe house in Arraken. You will need me.”
Paul thought for a moment and nodded.
“You are right. But she will go to Sietch Tabr.” He pointed to Iphigenia.
“Can you assure her safe passage with Farok? Maybe some day, not yet. She will be safer with us for now.”
“Damn, Mapes… we will leave at dusk. Find a place for us to rest during the day. I will talk with Farok.”
Paul leaved the two women and went to find Farok. Plans needed to be made.
Later, when he got back to them, he found them in a discreet corner, mostly protected by a huge rock, afar from the eyes of most of the sietch. The two women had already undressed the stillsuits and they were seated, face to face. Mapes had only her short tunic on, revealing her attractive figure, her naked arms and shoulders, a revealing cleavage exposing the top of her breasts and leaving her slim legs uncovered. Iphigenia had a large Fremen robe covering her shoulders and back, it was opened in the front and Mapes had her hands inside.
Mapes looked at him, when he approached and knelt near them in the floor covered with two other robes. Paul made an unspoken question when he, facing his wet nurse, saw Mapes hands massaging one of Iphigenia’s huge breasts.
“I am helping Iphigenia. Since she stopped breastfeeding Alia she has milk in excess and breast pain.”
Paul nodded. Under the stillsuit his blood was beginning to converge to his penis. The magnificent sight of a huge breast being manipulated didn’t help. Then he had to undress the stillsuit, so he begun to do it and leaved only a Fremen loin-cloth to cover his waist. He wasn’t using his fighting trunks anymore. The Fremen loin-cloth was much more comfortable under the stillsuit.
Then Mapes leaded over, took the breast that she had been massaging in her mouth and begun to suckle. Iphigenia’s arms surrounded her, as they surrounded so many times Alia, or Paul, in some forgotten memories.
That was too much. Paul’s penis emerged under the loin-cloth as it needed air to breath. The Fremen loin-cloth also had its disadvantages, Paul thought.
Iphigenia look to him and laugh. Mapes stopped suckling and turned his head to him. They both laugh and Paul couldn’t avoid smiling.
“Silence…” he said, faking is anger, “do you want to wake up all the sietch?”
The wet nurse opened her arms inviting him, Mapes repositioned her body to suckle the other breast and Paul sited down, bend on the nurse lap to take the erect nipple in his mouth.
Mapes and Paul suckled, enveloped in Iphigenia’s warm arms, facing each other, their faces separated only by hot hair, their noses sometimes almost touching while their wet nurse would cuddle them singing quite low and tenderly a forgotten lullaby song, caressing her heads, brushing their hair with her fingers, playing with their ears.
Iphigenia’s breasts size decreased considerably as the milk flowed to their mouths, But Paul was not lulled. Mapes smiling to him with the nipple between her red lips stained with white milk, was not helping either. Paul stopped swalling. He filled his mouth with the precious nectar and rose up his head, with his mouth above Iphigenia’s mouth and kissed her. She opened her lips and he fed her with her own milk, lingering the kiss, touching with their tongues. At his side Mapes repositioned her body, he felt her approaching and with her mouth she pushed him away, taking his place in Iphigenia’s mouth and feeding her. Paul got back to the breast to refill.
Again with Iphigenia’s breast in his mouth, facing Mapes, he realized that Mapes still had her tunic on. He went for a strap and pulled it down. The women were kissing and their breasts were at the same level, Mapes pressing her still covered tits against Iphigenia’s abandoned breast. And that was happening at Paul’s eye level. He introduced his hand between that mess. Mapes looked down and disengaged for a moment to take care of the other strap and push her tunic down, exposing her round breasts, before kissing again Iphigenia. Paul took the nearest in his hand and then took Iphigenia’s abandoned breast. He had his mouth full again, time to go up.
This time Mapes didn’t allow him to kiss Iphigenia, she just didn’t disengage from her lips. So he attacked her instead. Mapes didn’t expected it and gave up with a laugh. Paul took advantage of her opened mouth and discharged the milk in her while kissing. Milk flowed from their mouths to their chins, streaming and falling into Iphigenia’s breasts. Paul begun to loose notion. He didn’t knew anymore whose mouth he was kissing, whose breasts he was suckling and caressing, whose tongue was licking his face, his neck, his earlobes. He didn’t knew and didn’t care.
When he felt a closed fist around his hard member he looked down. It was Mapes hand. He looked at her and smiled. Iphigenia was completely naked under the robe, he had already felt her wet sex brushing and rubbing against his upper leg. Mapes had only the tunic rolled up on her waist, her vagina completely exposed, her outer lips moisty and opened by Iphigenia’s caresses.
Shadout Mapes looked at him and pushed him back. She turned him so he was with his back against Iphigenia. The wet nurse was now sited on the floor and had her legs completely opened, Paul was seated between them. Mapes pushed him again so his buttocks were touching Iphigenia’s sex. He could feel her honey flowing to his butt. He could feel her breasts against his back while she embraced him from behind and her hands were all over around. Her hips begun to jerk, but she couldn’t find much friction in his buttocks. Poor woman! Mapes managed his penis in her hands and seated in his lap, facing him. The tip of his penis brushing her vagina but impeded to enter by her hands.
“Do you still want a concubine? I am free!”
Paul nodded and engulfed one of her breasts moaning a “yes”. His hands were on her waist and he pulled her against him. His tip was already opening her. Mapes hand disappeared from his member and he was liberated to get in.
Mapes moaned in pleasure when she received him inside her and her vagina begun her contractions as a mouth sucking a penis. Iphigenia moaned in frustration, breathing hard while kissing Mapes’ mouth.
His hand around Mapes waist went to her ass check to grab her and to help her in the cadenza. The other one went to his back and Paul managed to introduce it between his body and Iphigenia’s to reach her sex. She trembled all in her back, her breasts pressed even more against his spine and she grasped a thankful moan while she begun to rub furiously against his hand and pulse.
The three managed to establish a coherent rhythm in their odd position. Their bodies moved always trying to get the better of the other. Paul kissed, licked and sucked, was kissed, licked and sucked. There were hands everywhere. Skin. Taste. Smell. Sweat. Movement. Contractions and moans.
Mapes was the second woman he was inside. The first had been his mother, the womb to he had returned. Even in all that confusion of bodies and touches and movement he had to compare. His penis pulsed inside Mapes in the comparison moment. She trembled in response. They were similar… and yet… so different. It was one of those mysteries of the universe than not even Paul with his Mentat capabilities could explain.
The mental comparison was a mistake, it had rushed him. Now Paul regret it. There was no turning back. He tried to slow down Mapes movements, but her vaginal contractions were impossible to refrain. He removed his hand from her ass and grabbed a breast, but that was insufficient and he begun to caress her face, pulling her to a kiss. She still tasted at Iphigenia’s milk. They broke the kiss and Mapes sucked one of his fingers. Then there was another hand caressing her face and Mapes leaved his finger to suck one of Iphigenia’s. Behind him Iphigenia was sucking and kissing his ear. His hand on his back was tired and his wet nurse was just rubbing herself against his pulse.
He couldn’t take it anymore!
An expression in his face warned Mapes. She nodded and warned Iphigenia. He was the first. He trembled and shake all his body. This must have helped Iphigenia because soon she also begun to shiver and Paul felt her contractions in his pulse followed by a flood. His penis exploded inside Mapes, but she wasn’t there yet and she continued her motions, ignoring Paul’s momentum and she went on and on, enjoying while Paul was still hard until she also crumbled in ecstasy.
It was night fall. He woke up with a moan. And it wasn’t his.
He rolled in the floor. And saw them.
Mapes was lied down over her left shoulder, at his left side with her back to him. Her right leg was bend, her knee up, so she could spread her legs wide open. Her head was between the legs of other woman, but Paul could only see a part of a woman’s leg. He supposed that it was Iphigenia’s leg. He could also see a delicate hand on Mapes’ buttocks. The two women moaned intensely and it seems that they were on that activity for some time.
Paul raised his head to confirm that it was Iphigenia on the other side and leaned his body against Mapes’. He kissed her shoulder.
“Good morning…” he said, forgetting that it was dusk.
His body had already responded to what he was seeing. His erection brushed Mapes’ ass skin, he found the way and passed his penis under the buttocks to the other side to explore and invade her. She was totally wet. He slipped one arm under Mapes’ belly to hold her and bucked his hips but to his surprise his penis didn’t entered Mapes. It was taken by Iphigenia’s mouth and she had begun to suck it and caress his testicles with her hand. Paul whined, he had missed his objective. Mapes complained with a grunt, she threw herself forward, her hips trying to find Iphigenia’s tongue that wasn’t there anymore. Paul’s hand came to her help and he begun to fondle directly her clit, fringing her until he managed to get his penis out of Iphigenia’s mouth to pierce Mapes. Iphigenia didn’t gave up and begun to lick his testicles at the same time she licked Mapes’ vaginal lips.
Paul’s penis sensed Mapes’ contractions so he didn’t hold up and flooded her with a discharge. On the other side Iphigenia moaned intensely and bit his testicles before releasing them, so he assumed that she also had reached her goal.
“You could have awaken me…”
Mapes turned his head to him and leaned so she could kiss him. Her face was totally covered with Iphigenia’s juices. He tasted it all while raising his hand and caressing her right breast.
“We don’t need you to begin well our day!” said Mapes while kissing him.
“I can see that!” he said, “You denied me in Arraken, but today you wanted me! What happened? What made you change your mind?”
Shadout Mapes lowered her eyes and a great sadness invaded her face.
“Yesterday I was informed that I am a widow! Now I can be your concubine.”
“I am sorry for your loss Mapes! I had no idea.”
She shook her head.
“We knew the risks since we married, since we had our child.”
“I hope I can meet your daughter soon!”
They already hear the night activity in the sietch. It was time to wake up and raise, pack and move. There was no time to waste.
But to his concern he saw two Fremen from Farok’s group looking to them and laughing while packing. They had slept near their corner, on the other side of the huge rock they hide and during the day they probably had heard or seen something.
Paul ignored them. For the time there was nothing that he could do. He said his goodbye to Farok and his men and departed to Arraken with Mapes and Iphigenia.
They took all night to travel to Arraken and the sun was already high when they arrived to the Fremen district and took shelter in the shadows of Mapes’ small apartment.
“I will need to establish a spy network here in Arraken,” thought Paul. “If you know your enemy better than you know yourself, you will never suffer defeat.” He quoted. “We will rest here for a couple of hours,” he said putting down the backpack and drinking water from the stillsuit. “Then we will see where is the palace!”
Paul and Shadout Mapes leaved the apartment leaving Iphigenia still asleep. She would only delay them and she needed to sleep more to recover from the previous journey.
The two crossed the narrow, labyrinthine streets of the Fremen district, covered by awnings that filtered the sun and avoiding Harkonnen military check points. They took half an hour to reach the market, where they bought water and almost one hour to get to the high part of the city.
In that area the Harkonnen patrols and check points was much more intense.
Avoiding a patrol, they took a small street that lead them directly to the military barracks, near the Harkonnen headquarters. Paul couldn’t avoid evaluating the forces. For a brief moment he could see Glossu Rabban Harkonnen, the beast, shouting orders. The number of soldiers was impressive, but their training and proficiency was doubtful.
It was just over three hours before the end of the day when they reached the palace.
“It is here!” said Shadout Mapes.
“Hmm! Clever. A humble building from outside! So typical from the Bene Gesserit! With all the military apparatus and the Harkonnen are perfectly unaware of their presence.”
“There was humidity inside. They have much water.”
“Take a look to the doors and windows… all hermetic.”
Paul pushed Mapes to a side alley.
“Get back to the apartment to Iphigenia. As should leave as soon as you can. Get back to your daughter to Sietch Tabr and inform my mother that I will only return with Alia, even if that takes time. Alia’s safety is the most important thing now.”
“I want to stay with you! I can help you here!”
“No. And this time is really no! You couldn’t convince my sister and I need to be with her alone to bring her back. I will take the same route to Sietch Tabr, so don’t worry!”
Shadout Mapes finally agreed. She embraced Paul and kissed him on the lips.
“We will see each other again in Sietch Tabr!”
Paul waited. He merged with the street, near the garbage and a pile of wicker baskets. To the passers-by that noticed him, he looked like a water beggar, wrapped in an old Fremen rope.
Before the sunset two women returned to the palace. It seemed that they come from the market and had done some domestic shopping. They dressed like the local women, but their posture and moves denounced them as Bene Gesserit to Paul’s eyes.
Paul moved swiftly. When they opened the outdoor he run to them pushed his body to the door jamb. The sisters were quick but not quick enough to close the door. They threw the groceries down and sharp daggers appeared in their hands. Their movement only stopped with the blades an inch from Paul’s jugular.
“Peace, sisters!” he raised his empty hands, “I only want to talk with your Lady, your older sister, the one that is known as Anirul Sadow-Tonkin Corrino. The emperor’s wife.”
“We don’t know anybody with that name! Leave immediately!” said the older sister.
“If I leave now, how will you explain that a stranger knows that she is here, in Arraken!”
The sisters changed a glare.
“Give two steps in so we can close the door. Move slowly.”
Paul got in to a hall that was used simultaneously as warehouse. The younger sister closed the door behind him.
“Let the robe fell on the floor.”
He obeyed. They didn’t expect a young man.
“Who are you?” asked the older one while the younger one researched him. She had some difficulty with the stillsuit.
Paul looked to the younger: “I only have a kindjal on my right boot.” The sister found it and removed it.
“No needles? No shield?” the older woman was surprised.
“Tell your lady that I am Alia’s brother. She will know who I am!”
“Very well, we will wait here,” said the older one. The youngest disappeared at a rapid pace.
It didn’t took much time to her return with more four sisters armed with rapiers.
“We will escort you.”
The younger sister picked up his rope. The group crossed another hermetic door. The humidity rose considerably inside and Paul was conducted to an ample training room.
They formed a circle around him. For a moment he feared treason.
Slowly he begun to undress the stillsuit until he only had the loin-cloth around his waist. He hesitated and even more slowly he begun to untie the loin-cloth.
“Enough! You can leave it. We will research you again. Rise up your arms.”
Clinically, analyzing every inch of his body, two women touched and squeeze his skin searching for hidden weapons. His penis trembled when their hands touched him there.
“He is clean,” said one voice.
“Dress this tunic,” said another one.
“That won’t be necessary. He won’t stay long…” said a third one. A commanding voice.
Paul turned around to see who had spoken.
Mapes had described Anirul to him “short bronze-brown hair, a pale face, soft skin, green eyes with shades of blue. Marvelously formed, with well rounded breasts, thin hips, curved buttocks, long legs, a body of an empress, fat with water.”
She wore a long white dress with leg openings a deep cleavage in the front and a bare back. Her short hair was pulled up and held by a clip. In Paul’s opinion she was startling. It reminded him immediately an older version of Irulan. A different hair tone but similar facial features.
“Leave us! And close the doors behind.”
“My lady!” said the older sister on a disapproving tone.
“I said, leave us!”
Paul and Anirul waited in silence, at three steps from each other while the other sisters leave them alone.
“You are younger than I thought!” she said. Her voice was now much more agreeable. “I was waiting for you or your mother! I knew that one of you would come… if you were alive…”
Paul stood still. Let her talk, he thought.
“You should be asking why I accepted and protected Alia! Your mother made a good job hiding her from the Truthsayer. Gaius heard rumors but she doesn’t know of her sister’s existence.”
Anirul gave two steps forward and than she begun to walk around Paul. She stopped at his back and raised her hand. For a moment she made a brief caress on Paul’s shoulders.
Paul avoided a shiver. Here is a woman that knows how to touch a man, Paul thought. She gave two more steps and stopped again at Paul’s side.
“You have a beautiful body!” her hand touched again his shoulder but this time it stayed there. Her hand was warm. “Your smell reminds me your sister.” she spoke at his hear.
Was she flirting with him? Paul considered that possibility. Maybe she was just bored. In that moment he was probably the only man in the entire palace.
“Why don’t you speak?”
“I am hearing you…”
“So… why did you accepted and protected Alia?” he asked.
“By spite.” Paul understood but looked to her inquisitive. “Gaius is currently the emperors’ favorite. I need to counter her plans.” She removed her hand. “And you, why are you here?”
“You know why! I came for my sister.”
“Will she be safer with you?”
“Yes. And she will be in her house, with her family.”
“And with the Fremen!” Anirul added. “And you don’t trust me because I am a Bene Gesserit, just like Gaius, just like your mother…”
“I trust my mother… I don’t trust you because I don’t know you…”
“How are you with the sword? Your mother trained you, as she trained Alia?”
“During these days Alia was my pupil…” Anirul look intensely to him, she was trying to find a reason to hold Alia for her. “If you beat me in combat… I will let you talk with your sister! Then… if you convince her… you two are free to leave the palace. Those are my conditions. If I beat you, or if she wants to stay, she will continue here as my pupil.”
Anirul moved to a room corner. There was a table with several blades in it. Near, on a shelf there was a small pile with folded tunics.
“Turn around. I need to change.”
He obeyed and turned his back on her. Paul heard the muffled sound of fabric falling in the floor. He fought against the wish to turn to her and see her naked, but he resisted his urge.
Then he heard her picking a sword. The sound of a blade scraping another blade was unmistakable.
“You can look at me.” She was only some ten steps from him with two short blades in her hands. On the corner her white dress was on the floor and she was wearing a short tunic, glued to her perfect body, attached to the shoulders by two straps. “ready?”
She sent a sword flying trough the air.
Paul caught it in the air by the hilt. Then he took its height, struck the air, making it vibrate and spinning in his hand.
“No shields,” she said.
Anirul crouched to position with the short sword high in her right.
"Prepare yourself" She leaped forward to one side, then high, in a furious continuous attack. Paul fell back, parrying and smiling to her. He loved her expression, her concentration, while the blade sliced the air all around.
What’s gotten into this woman? Why the fight? He asked himself. She’s not faking this! She wanted to win. No doubts. She is good, he admitted.
Around the training room the combat proceeded. They fought – thrust and parry, feint and counterfeint. Paul continued to back, but now he directed his retreat toward one of the four robust columns in the room. I’ll show her a trick, Paul thought. One more attack.
The attack came and Paul moved away. Her blade crushed in the stone and she was momentarily unprotected. Paul attacked for the first time a cut her left strap. Immediately the left part of the tunic felt exposing her left breast.
She looked to her bare breast and blushed. It was beautiful. A painter could have made a master piece if he could capture that moment. In anger she attacked again. She felt humiliated by him and attacked again and again. Paul just continued to move back, now he directed his retreat toward the next column. Anirul begun to sweat revealing the effects of her constant effort. She was corning in next to the other column. She smiled, the same trick wouldn’t work twice.
And yet Paul had another trick in mind. She was anticipating a similar move. He made a different sidestep, deflected her attack, change the sword to the left hand, and in a quick move cut the tunic’s right strap. The tunic felt to her waist. Now, the other breast was all exposed in its full glory. Magnificent! Her hard breathing enlarged them when she inspired and her chest moved so beautifully that Paul almost forgot the fight for a moment. He wished to be a painter, he wished to be a poet to describe her!
She was in rage! But there was something more in her eyes. That blush was too much intense. She looked at him and saw him waiting and looking at her with dilated eyes. Her flared nostrils. Adrenaline? Desire? Heat?
The woman was amazing! Paul could hardly belief that she was the mother of the five emperor’s daughters. She was the empress. The first concubine.
She made a final attack. Her breasts bounced freely attracting Paul’s attention like a magnet. But he still saw her right foot too much advanced. He just deflected the attack with the sword, then with a quick movement of his leg he nailing her to the ground.
Paul changed the sword to his left hand again and felt on her knees, his legs brushing hers, then he arrested her body with his all above her, his hips gaining space between her suddenly opened defenseless bare legs. She tried to move, her right arm rose above her head, her hand still holding the sword but immobilized by his sword and by his surprising strength.
Their eyes met, their noses almost touched, they breathed hard in each others face. She was flushed from the fight. Even in that position her breasts pointed up against the bare skin of his chest. She avoided breathing so her chest wouldn’t compress so much against his. And then she felt it. When she had fall her short tunic revealed her inner parts while his loin-cloth barely covered him. His deflected penis escaped from the ling-cloth and was touching her upper leg. She panicked! Slowly with the skin contact, without any movement from their immobile bodies, his penis was gaining life all alone.
All alone his penis was getting hard and yet with a soft smooth skin brushing her inner leg as it was rising, and rising, and rising, beginning to point up, so near, so close her leaking vagina.
At first he seemed as surprised as her. He knew she was feeling it. She surely was feeling it. He saw concern in her eyes, in her expression. But then, when he was fully erect, his head at the doors, he just smiled with amusement. He smelled her scent, his penis felt her fluids.
Damn kid! Who did he think he was? She was the empress! She only could have a man in her life! Her life depended on that!
His hips moved up but she fought back and his penis just tipped her entrance tickling her. Tickling her sex. Tickling her legs. She felt it and she cursed herself for being aroused. Damn planet! Damn aphrodisiac spice! It was the spice's fault!
She tried to move the sword but she couldn’t, he was holding her tight. And she saw in his face that he was going to move the hips again. Her left arm was free and she tried to push him back while she retreated up. They fought on the floor, rolling several times and she avoided him, but he immobilized her again and pushed. She felt it. His head had spread completely her labia and was at her entrance, she already felt the tip inside her. Her inner muscles were spreading to receive him. She liked his smell; his skin had his sister’s scent. But… he had stopped! Damn kid!
He had a strange serious expression in his face. His member was almost inside her and he was standing there like a stone statue.
Why didn’t he move?
“I will not violate you…”
Violate her?! Who did he think he was?
Anirul moved her hips against him and suddenly he was completely inside her. In that moment he had closed his eyes and had relived the tension with the sword. His right hand moved to her breast. She took advantage of the instant. Rolled over, her sword finally getting free and when se was on top, still linked with him by his member she stroke, both with the hips and the sword. He was surprised and deflected the attack on the last flash. She had cut him near the neck, his blood begun to flow. She stroke again and again and again. Always with the sword and the hips. Always with a crescendo with the hips and in a clumsier way with the sword. In a final attack she held his sword against the floor and dive in his neck to suck his blood. His right hand left her breast and gripped her ass to help her with the moves. Her mouth left his wounded neck, found his lips and Paul tasted his own blood.
Oh! She thought. After so many years it was good to have a man inside her again.
She was still trying to move her sword. But her attacks were now completely childish, completely inconsequent. Her body was only focused on her pleasure, her treason to her husband and emperor. The two swords were moving without any objectivity.
“What are you two doing? Are you fighting or fucking?”
Anirul rose her blooded lips from him and rose her eyes to the voice’s source.
Alia was behind them at the chamber’s door and Irulan was at her side, both dressed with the typical white short tunics used by the sisters in the palace. Anyrul cursed herself! A Harkonnen platoon could have entered in the chamber and Anirul wouldn’t have noticed it.
Paul saw them too. He lost the sword and quickly withdrew from her, letting her half-taken, with a sense of a loss. He got up, his penis sprung freely, and retreated two steps as if he needed more space between him and the three women.
The empress, the emperor’s first concubine, the mother of five princesses stood naked on the floor, with her white tunic around her waist, legs apart, her sex glistering, without any answer to Alia’s question.
Paul looked desperately to the floor searching for his loin-cloth. Somehow, at some point, he had lost it. His eyes found it at Irulan’s feet. He couldn’t approach her in his state of aroused nakedness. Not when she had just witnessed him making love with her mother.
Irulan was in shock. She was relieved: Paul was alive! It was true! But he was there… with her mother! As naked and… “happy”… as she had seen him in that lovely night in the Atreides’ reception. And her mother was… naked… her breasts bouncing… her sex widely opened and glistering… the faithful empress was making love with Paul. There was jealousy in Irulan and… she wanted to deny it… but there was also excitement…
Alia Atreides took charge of the situation. She conquered the space between her and her brother and took his hand.
“Let’s go… we really need to talk!”
Paul gave his hand to her and followed her, rotating his sight between the two Corrino women. At the door he stopped, hesitated and looked back.
Irulan had approached her mother and helped her to sit. Anirul leaned her head against her daughter’s shoulder. Paul could only see their backs.
“Your father can never know about this!” she cried in despair. “My life depends on it,” her body sobbed in Irulan’s arms.
“I know mother, I know, don’t worry!”
Anirul’s body sobbed… or was shaking… was she masturbating to finish it? Paul penis twitched in the doubt!
“Come on, close the door!” Alia pulled him by his hand, but he wanted to look to the two women on the training chamber.
Alia irritated leaved his hand, closed the door behind them and pulled him with strength by his erect penis.
And he came. He was still on the wedge and that last pull was more than enough to him. He spat in his sister’s hand and arm once and he moved his hips to enjoy the friction that her hand could provide.
“Oh no!” she said, “that’s discusting!”
But she was clinical and stroke him quickly a couple of times. Then she removed her tunic by her head, cleaned rapidly his still erect member, her hand and arm and some drops on the stone floor.
Paul stared at her. She was not his little sister anymore. She was a young beautiful desirable woman. She picked his hand again and begun to rush trough the small corridor to her quarters. Paul was amazed by her graceful body. A younger version of Jessica. While she rushed her blond-red hair seemed to fly. Her tits bounced as freely as his penis slapping his legs. Her buttocks were gracious, her waist slender, her bush thin.
She closed the door and stopped inside her bedroom. Paul crushed against her, his softening member pressed against her ass. She sent her tunic to the bed, than she smiled and turned around to him. She rose on tiptoe, raised her arms around his neck and embraced him, pushing her breasts against his chest and his half-deflected penis against her bush. All her skin and body were terribly soft and warm. Paul embraced her by the waist.
“You are a fool! You were fucking the empress!”
“Watch your language, sis!” but Paul knew that Alia was right.
“Watch my language? Watch your dick! It can get you into trouble! You know that if the sisters caught you with Anirul, you would be both in danger? You made so much noise fucking that all the sisters in Wallach IX could hear!”
“I thought we were alone! Why did you go there? She had given orders…”
“The oldest sister called Irulan… Irulan called me… you know the rest…” she said, resting her head in his shoulder.
Paul recalled Irulan’s expression.
“Will Irulan maintain the secret?”
“To protect her mother? Sure.”
She tilted her head and kissed her chin gently.
“I missed you…” she smiled. “Where is mom? And father? And the others?”
“Mom is safe in a Fremen... village. Iphigenia is with that woman that you knew, Shadout Mapes, they are heading that village. I don’t know about dad!” Paul made a pause and shook his head. “He is probably dead. Duncan is dead. The others…” he shrugged…
“Don’t say that… we need to have hope that our father is well! And we… will we be safe in that Fremen village?”
“Yes, The Fremen call it a Sietch. It is underground, a cave.”
She frowned her nose.
“You need a bath and we need to prepare!” said Alia leaving him and heading to the bathroom.
Paul was relieved; his penis was rising up again with the contact.
Alia’s head appeared from the bathroom door.
“What are you waiting for… come? You stink!” Paul tough that the last person that said that to him had been Harah.
Paul entered in the bathroom and was astonished. He thought that so much water, so much wealth would be almost impossible to find in a palace in Arraken. The green house in the Atreides Palace was nothing comparing with the richness in that bathroom.
Exactly in the middle there was a huge bathtub full of hot water, bubbles came from it, and there was steam everywhere. It reminded him his mother’s bathroom in the Caladan palace.
Alia jumped to the tub and splashed water all around. What a waste! Naturally the steam would be recovered as the water from the floor… but Paul wasn’t used to such a waste anymore… like in their days in Caladan!
He smiled looking to Alia. For a moment he was a kid again and jumped to the huge tub, slashing even more water.
“And the sisters don’t come here!”
“Nope. They have their bathrooms. They only come here with Anirul’s orders. And after what appended today… lay down, I will wash you…”
That is a terrible idea, thought Paul. Even so he lied down in the water and let himself be embraced by its hotness. Alia faced him, joined his knees and sited down on his legs.
She caught a sponge and began to soak it and soothe it. She picked his right arm and begun to wash it. Paul was in another planet. He closed his eyes.
“You were really hitting Anirul hard, brother! It seems that my brother is no longer a virgin! Lucky you!” she was pushing his right arm while she washed it, sometimes his arm brushed her breasts. She was doing it on purpose and Paul knew it.
She changed to the other arm.
“Tell me… was she your fist one? Hmmm… I don’t think so… you seemed quite comfortable there! Who was?”
Paul stood in silence.
“You know that she was my tutor these days here! She is quite good… well you know that… oh… common! If I was not a virgin anymore I would tell you all!”
Paul opened his eyes and look to her. He knew that she was telling the truth. He also knew that she wouldn’t let it go.
“Was that Mapes?” she studied his reaction. “Hmmm, no…” his left arm brushed her breasts several times while being washed. Her breasts jumped with the brushing and his penis stayed in a half-aroused state. That couldn’t go on.
Paul tried to attack.
“So you were teached by Anirul… and you were also teached by Irulan?”
“Hmm, hmm…” she shook her head and begun to wash his chest and cleaned his small wound in the neck. “You should know that when the Bene Gesserit have a pupil… that pupil belongs to the tutor, she can’t be with anyone else… unless the tutor allows it… but Irulan is so beautiful…”
Paul’s head emerged from the water like a submarine going up in the seas of Caladan. It stood there pointing the ceiling between brother and sister.
Alia laugh loudly: “I am not going to wash that!”
That would be a bad idea.
“Turn around, I will wash your back and hair” she got up and stood on her kness. Paul turned around and leaned back against her. His nape between her perky breasts. She begun to massage him, rubbing the back of his head, clasping hands in a shell and dropping water on his hair.
And she insisted:
“Well… it wasn’t Anirul… it wasn’t Mapes… Iphigenia was with me… so… wait… it was mother? Tell me… it was with our mother?”
Paul was speechless. His body language betrayed him. If he would answer, he would betray himself even more!
Alia just laugh and laugh!
“Do you recall that day in the bath, in Caladan? You were with mother when I arrived. Then we fight in the water… I felt your thing… you were almost inside her that day, didn’t you? Get up, I will wash your legs…”
She begun to wash his buttocks, then her hands run up and own his legs, sometimes using the sponge. Suddenly she said:
“Open your legs a bit.” And she introduced her hands behind him and washed his testicles. He almost came immediately. “Turn around!
He did. He was in her devilish hands and he liked it. She was still on her knees and he was again hard as a rock, so her head as so near his erection. She looked to it, looked up to his brother and than ignored it and begun to wash his legs, rubbing up and down, like she had been doing. But than she rubbed up and look to it again. Smiled and bend forward, her nose almost touching it, then she nuzzled slightly against it.
“You still have Anirul’s smell in you!” She got up and her breasts jumped with the movement. “You are officially washed… with the exception of that little thing…” she pointed, “and I don’t want that to explode in my hands again… one accident is enough”, she leaved the tub, picked a towel and disappeared into the bedroom leaving Paul washing himself alone.
He got out of the tub, picked a towel begun to dry himself and followed her.
Alia was lying on the bed still naked, next to the dirty tunic, her head resting on the pillow. She began biting her nails. Paul approached her, his penis bouncing at each step.
“What is it Alia?” he knelt beside the bed looking to her.
“I will miss Anirul. She gave me much pleasure. I like her.”
Paul got up, went around the bed and lay down next to Alia.
“You can have girlfriends among the Fremen. Ipigenia will be there. You will know women and…” Paul hesitated; he had never thought about it, “maybe even a man!”
She turned to him and cuddled against his body, her head on his shoulder. Her breasts were crushed against his chest, her arm in his lower waist. The tip of his penis almost touched her arm.
“Yes, but you have mother… and probably someone more…” she turned, uneasy, faced up, her back partially supported by his chest. Paul saw her breasts shake with the movement. Their bodies were almost parallel in the bed. Their legs afar, their heads closer. With her head still on his shoulder, he embraced her, his arm around her neck, his hand resting between her shoulder and her breast. Her skin burned him on the chest with the contact. She was still hot from the bathtub. “For me the first days here in Arraken were hard. I was alone, without Iphigenia. I felt terribly alone. I masturbated often. Several times a day. I thought that Anirul wanted me as a lover… to teach me… but she took her time… her right hand moved down along her body, she spread slight her legs and begun to rub herself.
Paul just stood there, looking to her beauty. Her blond-reddish hairs all spread in the pillow, in his shoulder and arm, smelling so well. Her mouth partially opened. Her eyes closed. Her creamy skin still dripping water. Her hips moving and dancing against her hand. Her buttocks raising and falling in the bed. She raised her left hand and begun to caress her right breast. Her arm brushing Paul’s arm. That movement made the left tit come up, the nipple erect. Paul stretched his little finger and stretched and reached the nipple. She trembled in his arms. Probably due to her hand and not due to his little finger in her nipple.
Paul looked down, his penis was there, erect, so he decided to join his sister. Took it with the left hand, closed his fist around, and begun to masturbate, slowly in the beginning. He look at her, kissed her forehead and decided to stretch another finger to her nipple, than another one, than the whole hand. He cupped it and massage it, just like he was seeing how she was doing with the other one, imitating her. she raised her head to him and opened slightly her eyes. Her hands increased the pace, he increased the pace, both in her breast and in his penis. She moaned. His hand left her breast and went to her mouth to silence her, covering it. The last thing he needed was the sisters… or Irulan listening them. She bit hard his fingers. He cursed. She sucked his fingers and kissed them. She grunted again, loudly, but he managed to muffle the sound.
Her hips buckled, jerked, she raised them as high in the bed as she could. She trembled and every nerve in her body stretched totally before relaxing. He pumped his member faster and he felt his juice coming out in a splash. His hips bumped and the spurts began. Hitting high records and falling in their bodies.
For a moment they stood in silence. Then after a while he look to his sister. She had her eyes closed and her breath was quiet. She was asleep.
Paul removed his arm slowly, picked the dirty tunic and cleaned the sperm in her body, near her sex and in her belly and breasts. He covered her with a sheet and rushed to the bathroom to clean himself and to wash the tunic. Then he begun to pack some objects for her. He just needed to know were was his stillsuit. He had another one for her in Mapes’ apartment.
It was almost dawn. Paul had to wake her up.
“Time to go! I made a pack for you!”
She opened her eyes looked to the pack and nodded. Alia got dressed pretty quickly.
“You can use a towel around your waist.” She said. “Your clothes will still be in the training chamber.”
They crossed the corridor without seeing anyone. In the training chamber Paul begun to dress the stillsuit.
“I will say goodbye to Anirul, wait here!”
Paul hesitated but let her go. It was not a mistake she had returned when he was finishing to adjust the stillsuit.