Ch. 10: Kefka and Company

By Schala


Kefka struggled through Figaro desert, his feet sinking into the soft sands with each step, then yanking his foot out only to sink again. He was angry and annoyed, and the two Imperial soldiers with him knew better than to speak up and possibly make things worse. "Emperor Gestahl's stupid orders!" he grumbled. "Why did he have to send *me*? A regular ambassador would have been just fine!" Then he remembered the object of his mission and smiled wickedly. "Ah, but it will be worth it...when I finally acheive that which has eluded me for days now!" He cackled! Then his humor became black again as he looked at all the dust on his clothes.

The general growled. "Edgar, you pinhead! Why do you have to live in the middle of nowhere?! These recon jobs are the PITS!" He started to dust himself off, then he remembered the soldiers with him. What the hell, they were his lackeys for the day. "Ahem...there's SAND on my boots!"

The two soldiers, Beavis and Butthead, jumped. They scurried over like frightened rats and immediately knelt in the sand to clean Kefka's boots. The general stood there, cackling down at them. God, but he did love power. He smiled again as he watched the men working industriously....

Power...pure power...how he dearly loved expressing his control!

Kefka suddenly lifted one foot and kicked the man's hand away. Surprised, Beavis looked up. One glance at the general's expression made his bowels weak with fear. He'd seen that expression before...he just never thought it would one day be turned on *him*.

Butthead, too, had stopped his vigorous polishing and was also staring fearfully into Kefka's face. But he wasn't interested in the second soldier, just yet. Kefka placed his foot on Beavis' chest and shoved him roughly onto his back, on the sand. He pulled a thin leather whip from a belt loop. The end of the whip was split into three tails. Brandishing the weapon, he ordered Beavis: "Strip!" And he cracked the whip in the air to give strength to his words.

Butthead fell back as all the stories of the other soldiers came back to him. He was *not* going to be part of Kefka's orgy! He turned to run, but Kefka swung around and wrapped the whip around the man's ankles. The soldier fell face down with a grunt, and Kefka walked over to him. Butthead struggled to get up, but a heavy, booted foot caught him in the back and pushed him down again. Kefka knelt by the man's face. "If you try that again, I will see to it personally that you suffer a fate worse than death!" The general's voice was soft, but layered in a deadly silk. Butthead lay there, paralyzed with fear.

Kefku turned around again just as Beavis was getting up. "And don't think YOU'RE going anywhere!" the general shouted. He whipped out expertly and drew the man in. "Now strip! And I mean it!"

He poised the whip again, but Beavis was hurrying to obey. He pulled off his belt and undid his trousers, and they slid to the ground. He stood there mortified, his manhood exposed, the hot wind blowing sand harshly against it.

"Perfect...perfect!" he cackled. He whipped the man's penis, and Beavis shouted in pain. Kefka drew closer. He grabbed Beavis' cock and pumped it, feeling it slowly swell.

The general toyed around for some minutes as Butthead watched the scene in sick amazement. Then Kefka knelt down and started sucking the soldier's cock. Beavis gasped in horror and pleasure, while Butthead could only stare. He watched Kefka's head move back and forth as he deep-throated the man. His tongue flicked out and around the shaft, little cold dabs that were such a contrast to the heat of the desert.

Beavis moaned, then gave a sudden yell as a loud thwack was heard. Kefka had brought the whip around and was whacking the man's butt. His cheeks twitched with pain, his hips thrust forward involuntarily. Kefka loved it. All the screams of pain, the torture...god, it just turned him on. He whipped one cheek while his hand squeezed the other. Beavis' butt was stinging. He prayed it would stop.

Butthead slowly sat up. Weakened by some strange emotion, he crawled over to Kefka. He lifted the general's heavy robe and pulled down his pants, revealing a white, firm butt. The soldier pulled back his hand, and whap! He smacked Kefka's butt with a ringing slap. He felt in control, full of power! And his cock suddenly swelled with that power!

Kefka groaned, and whether it was from pain or pleasure, neither of the other two could tell. But a moment later the general smiled and a deep laugh rumbled from his throat, making Beavis' cock vibrate. The tickling vibrations pulled something from the soldier's loins. Without warning, he came in Kefka's mouth.

Beavis, horrified, tried to pull away. Hell, that Kefka of all people, should make him spew! But Kefka whipped him again, and he thrust forward with a yell, releasing more of his seed. With each whip, the general drew more of the man's salty cum from him, and Kefka lapped it up eagerly.

Meanwhile, he was also grunting from Butthead's slaps of his own behind. This torture delighted him so much, he couldn't stand it. Kefka's cock stiffened and burst out, his cum spilling onto the sand and quickly sinking into the desert, leaving nothing behind but a damp trace, which was quickly covered by the ever-blown sand.

With a final, popping suck, Kefka detached himself from Beavis' cock and stood up. The soldier stood there, his face contorted in the mental pain of his orgasm, his cheeks flushed. The general flapped the man's now-limp organ with one hand. He brought the whip around with his other hand and deftly struck backward at Butthead's still-erect cock. He shouted and doubled over in agony, the pain and surprise making him lose control, letting his cum seep out the front of his pants with a dark stain.

Kefka looked at the two vanquished men and laughed and laughed. Ah, these fools! to think they could actually have power over *him*! "Idiots!" he screamed, his high-pitched laughs carried away by the wind.

The guard at the front door of Figaro Castle peered into the sandy air. His eyes widened. Even though the people were still some distance off, there was no mistaking the colors of that robe!

Deserting his post, he rushed into the throne room, where Edgar, amazingly fully clothed, was speaking to Terra. The king broke off as the guard rushed up. "Your Majesty! Someone from the Empire to see you! It's General Kefka!"

Edgar frowned and nodded at the man, who hurried to resume his post. Terra looked at him questioningly. "Kefka's one of the three top generals of the Empire," he said in answer to her glance. "He, ah, is also partly in charge of Espers and, ah....well, it's somewhat hard to explain right now. If you'll excuse me, I must go meet with him. They may be looking for Locke -- his thievery is well-known to them -- but I'll bet he's looking for *you.* But don't worry. Just stay here. I won't let him get you."

He walked rapidly out of the throne room.

Just outside, Kefka was walking up the steps. "Sir Kefka!" the guard exclaimed. "What are you..."

"Stand aside!" the general snarled, pushing the man roughly and opening the double doors without waiting for any help. Beavis and Butthead rushed after him. They came out into the open hallway and stopped short as they saw the king walking down to meet them.

Edgar bowed slightly. "What brings Kefka, humble servant of Gestahl, to our domain?" he asked.

The general raised his brows ever so slightly. From prior reports, Edgar apparently enjoyed shocking the Imperial ambassadors by appearing completely naked before them. Kefka had been rather eager to see if this were true, and he was immensely disappointed to find the young king with clothes on.

He straightened up. "A girl of no importance recently escaped with us. We heard she found refuge here. If she is here, I would appreciate you handing her over so she may be subject to trial and sentencing."

Edgar nodded slowly. "This wouldn't have anything to do with this 'witch' that everyone's whispering about, would it?" he said with a slight smile.

"Lies!" the general screeched. "She...merely stole something of minor value!" He calmed down a bit. "Well? Is she here?"

The king rubbed his chin with his hand, as if deep in thought. "Well, now, that's a tough one! You see, there are more girls here than grains of sand in the desert! I can't possibly keep track of them all!" And he smiled, a superior smile of contempt and sad disbelief that Kefka could even *think* such a thing!

But Kefka wasn't fooled. He narrowed his eyes at Edgar's impertinence. He walked slowly, menacingly, up to Edgar until he was right in front of him. The king didn't flinch. "I'd hate to be you if we find out you're lying," he said in a low voice. Kefka's hand moved slowly to his belt, then changed his mind. With a greedy smile, the general reached down and stroked the hard bulge in Edgar's trousers.

The king sucked in his breath, his eyes darkening with a passionate anger. Kefka had a lustful snarl on his face as he squeezed. His long fingernails dug into the cloth, stabbing Edgar's penis. "You like that, don't you? You'd like for me to strap you down and have some fun with the technology *you* designed, eh?" He snickered as the blood filled his own cock.

"You...bastard..." he muttered through clenched teeth. He stood there almost helplessly, allowing himself to be fondled, willing himself to keep from getting aroused. When Kefka let up the pressure, Edgar quickly stepped away and turned his back to the general. "You've concluded your business. Now get out!"

"Tut, tut! Is *that* any way to treat an Imperial ambassador...and a general at that?" Kefka laughed loudly, then swiveled around to leave. "Mark my words, Edgar...cross me, and you'll be sorry...I truly hope nothing happens to your precious Figaro!" He stalked away, the Imperial guards following after him.

Edgar pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He couldn't let Kefka see that he'd gotten to him...that he'd actually started to get aroused. He shuddered slightly. Gods, to think of that man getting his hands on Terra...There was no telling what he might do!

Locke was waiting just outside the doors to the main hallway. "I'd say that guy's got a few screws loose," he murmured, nodding at Kefka's retreat.

The king nodded unhappily. Locke looked curiously at his friend, wondering why his face was so flushed. He guessed Kefka had made some threat when they had their heads together. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Edgar just shook his head. "Where's Terra?"

The other man opened the doors and scanned the area for the woman, who was just coming down from her vantage point upon a tower. She felt vaguely uncomfortable when she'd seen Kefka, even from a distance, and she'd been strangely restless all throughout the brief meeting. Her body had reacted, sending a hot wave through her that she could still feel burning in her cheeks.

Locke noticed her complexion as well; it was similar to Edgar's. He wondered what was going on with them. But there was no time for questions.

"Take her to her room," Edgar told Locke as the woman walked up. "I have a feeling we should be prepared for anything."

"Is it that bad?"

The king nodded. "Kefka's been thwarted from getting Terra, for now. And believe me, you don't want to cross him when he's like that."

"What did he say to you?"

It was an idle question, but Locke was surprised at the response. Edgar flushed again and turned away quickly. "Threats, mostly," he said in an offhand voice that confused Locke. The king had been dead serious just moments before, and now he seemed utterly nonchalant!

"Anyway," Edgar continued, now addressing Terra, "the Chancellor and I must plan our strategy. Sometimes," he bowed with a flourish, "I hate being king! If you'll excuse me." He swept past her into the throne room.

Locke touched her arm. "Follow me."

The two wound their way through the castle, across a sandy courtyard and up the right tower. Locke opened the bedroom door, and she stepped in. "Here's your room!" he exclaimed unnecessarily. He knew it was stupid the moment he said it, but there was an inner uneasiness he was trying to mask. He watched her as she looked around, then slowly sat on the bed.

The unhappy look on her face when she turned to him shook his heart. At that moment, reflecting the torches that burned in the evening light, Terra had the expressive, liquid eyes of Rachel. He caught his breath, a sudden flame leaping within him.

"Don't you worry about a thing," he said gently. "I'll be here for you, when you need me." But in his tone had slipped unconsciously the husky note of a man in desperate need. His words were conventional, an excuse. What he'd really meant was that *he* needed *her*...

Still, he wouldn't force her. He took a step closer, but she didn't seem to sense his growing tension. Terra just asked quietly, "Edgar said you were a thief. Is that true?"

Locke's brows shot up for a second in surprise. The word "thief" always rankled him. "Hey, that's TREASURE HUNTER!" he corrected, his brief but powerful desire suddenly swept away.

The woman shook her head with a smile. Then she sobered. "I don't understand what's going on. Why are we here? Why is a king helping us...helping me?"

Locke frowned slightly, wondering how much he should tell her. "On the face of it, Edgar pretends to support the Empire," he said, picking his words carefully. "In truth, he's collaborating with a rebel group called the Returners, who are opposed to the Empire. I am his contact with that group."

"The Empire?" She frowned, a vague memory flitting across her mind. "But I'm a soldier of the Empire!"

"That's not true! They were using you!" He knelt in front of her. "They used a Slave Crown to keep you bound to them. You weren't responsible for your actions." As he said it, he could feel the taste of irony in his mouth. He, who had for so long believed this woman to be a monster, was now reassuring her that she wasn't.

"So how exactly do I come in? Why is everyone after me? And...what should I do?"

"Those are difficult questions. All I can say is to follow your instinct," he said gently. She looked at him, and again his heart leaped. Locke stood up as he felt the emotion start to overwhelm him. "But for now, get a good night's rest. We'll have a lot to do tomorrow...I have a feeling we won't be hanging around much longer now that Kefka suspects you're here."

Her face fell. She would rather stay in a town after being so long in the wilderness, but she knew it was for her own safety. "Oh...all right."

"Good night, Terra." He smiled and left.

Terra lay down slowly. She tried to think, but soon realized there wasn't much use. After all the traveling, she had only more questions that no one would answer. And in the back of her mind was the most disturbing one: Who...or what...am I?

With her mind a confused jumble, she finally fell asleep.



Ch. 11: The Escape

Return to the trees in the Lemon Grove

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This lemon last tasted by the Grovekeeper on Sept. 9, 2001
All chapters © Schala 2001