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**NoMoshing** · 03-22-2019, 10:12 PM

Adeline I

The witch Adeline kept her head held high as she entered the king’s antechamber. Everywhere she went in the castle, maids would whisper to one another when they thought she couldn't see or hear, and scurried away like mice whenever Adeline's gaze found them. The black-armoured giants who composed the elite Veronomigan Guard would eye her suspiciously before looking away. Though loyal to a fault and fearsome in battle, the huge northmen were notoriously superstitious, a fact which bolstered Adeline's pride in what would otherwise be an entire hostile situation.

Worst were the nobles. Servants would not speak out, even the older ones who would be able to question why Adeline had not seemed to age since the day of the king's grandfather's rule. But decades of rule under the weak King Amable, the current king's father, had made them bold. A great many did not approve of the seemingly-immortal witch kept as an advisor by the royal family, and those few who did tolerated her only because she was useful.

She had pale silver hair that hung straight down to her shoulders, clear blue eyes and a slender, shapely body with small breasts. Her dress was very deliberately cut to cling to her, and, while simple, showed off the lines of her body. She wore the traditional pointed hat of her profession, to signal her magical prowess to onlookers- hopefully it would impress upon King Roland the serious nature of her powers. This would be her first audience with the new king- she wanted to look desirable, to play on his lusts, but also authoritative.

King Roland was young for his station, having orchestrated a coup to depose his father and send the latter into exile. He supposedly had his mother’s touch for diplomacy, and had negotiated his way into the position of the royal treasurer, smoothly displacing the former treasurer, Lord Ambrien. He then proved to be so successful at the position that the kingdom's coffers increased despite the former king's inadequacies... and, with his hands on the purse-strings, King Roland was able to win the loyalty of Veronomigan Guard and take his father into custody. That was three months ago, and the ripples in the corridor of power have been expanding ever since.

To everyone who spoke well of him, the king was a genius savant, ready to usher in a new golden age for the Kingdom of Allore. For his critics, he was a greedy upstart who seized the reins of power so he could turn the castle into a decadent personal paradise to sate his lusts.

King Roland had a reputation for being possessed of an insatiable appetite for sex. As far back as his coming of age, and some rumours held that even earlier, he made a succession of lovers out of his personal servants. For a king to dirty himself with the peasant lovers was an unspeakable travesty to many of the nobility... and even the King's most ardent supporters saw it as unfortunate black mark.

Crossing the modest antechamber, Adeline saw the two guards at the entrance to the throne room cross their poleaxes, blocking her way. Mentally, she braced herself. This would be a good warm-up before the main battle.

“The King is not to be disturbed at this time,” the right-hand guard stated, his accent thick.

Adeline smiled. “His Grace has summoned me. He requires my council on matters of national import.” She let her smile widen as she drew her brows down, glaring in an evil grin. “You know who am I. Do you really want to bar my way?”

To their credit, the guards weren't immediately cowed, although they hesitated and exchanged a worried glance. When Adeline reached out and parted their weapons as thought they were mere curtains, then the two men relented, resuming their watchful stance.

The cavernous throne room, decorated with huge tapestries and the banners of noble houses that held (nominal) fealty to the king, was filled with wet slurping sounds. For the first time since his coronation, the witch beheld her King, and was pleasantly surprised to find that the rumours did indeed seem to be true.

Two maids in uniform, a blonde and a brunette, were knelt before the throne, their heads bobbing up and down rhythmically over the King's erect cock. This king himself was leaning on the arm on the throne, head in hand as if this was just some idle afternoon entertainment. The crown rested atop his head, however, and despite the debauchery taking place, he did seem to have a regal bearing. Not as thought he was above the act taking place, but in a confident way, as if he didn't particularly care who knew that he was taking his pleasure.

Adeline curtsied deeply, schooling her face to appear neutral despite the act happening before her. From her position below the dais, she noticed that both maids wore no undergarments below the short skirts of their uniforms.

Her entry did not go unnoticed. With a snap of his fingers, the king dismissed the two maids, who looked disappointed and cast jealous glances at Adeline as they went. The royal cock, however, remained present, and hard, as King Roland looked over his court witch.

“I have need of your counsel, witch,” the king said simply.

“I live only to serve, Your Grace,” Adeline replied.

“Is that so?” He said, musing. He regarded Adeline silently for a time, as if coming to a decision. The witch was used to such beginner tactics- the long silence intended to make her uncomfortable, to put her off her guard. Instead she kept her gaze demurely lowered and waited. She was not quite a century old, and her magic has preserved her youth and wits alike.

Finally, he spoke. “No doubt you know there are elements in the kingdom that would see I fail, that my plans never come to pass and that I be left with my maids as a puppet king on a fool’s throne, if not deposed entirely.”

Ah, so the resentment of the court did not go unnoticed. Perhaps this man was not such a fool.

“I did not know,” Adeline lied smoothly, “I am pleased to serve, Your Grace. I have not forgotten how your noble grandfather shielded me from those who would prosecute me, in the days before the church's power waned. I would never count myself among those who conspire against you, Your Grace.”

“I doubt that, my lady,” the king said imperiously, “You do not seem so much of a fool to tolerate my rule regardless of my actions. As well, you have ever had your hand on the pulse of the court, and have... alternative means of discovering information, so you'll forgive me if I don't believe that you are entirely ignorant of my precarious situation.”

“As you say, Your Grace,” she responded simply.

“I require a simple service of you, one making use of your magical prowess to help ensure the loyalty of my court. I have great plans, and will need a solid base from which these plans will flourish.”

Adeline curtsied again. “Name it, my King, and I shall do my best to see it done.”

The king shifted on his throne, and the royal cock swayed alluringly. Adeline found herself wondering what it might be like to receive the king’s attentions. Surely a man so… practiced would excel at the act.

“I require you to make a kind of obedience potion,” he explained.

Well, this is interesting, Adeline thought. It certainly wasn't the first thing she thought of when her King had summoned her.

“One that, when I ingest it, will cause women who swallow, are anointed with, or are given my seed become forever enamoured with me, and perfectly obedient to my will.”

The witch could have laughed. What a typical response for a man. Especially this particular man.

“Ah, I see, your grace,” Adeline responded. “You require a magical means of controlling recalcitrant nobles. I can conceive of how I was create such a potion, but why make a more simple tincture, one that eliminates the sexual element and simply allows you to dominate whoever you feed it to?”

King Roland chuckled. “Well, for one, I have need of a potion I cannot be affected by, for starters. For a second, it must not be turned against me- there can only be one dose, ever. Finally... well, there is a certain mental element of taking a man's daughter, wife, sister, mother... and simply fucking her into obedience. It will invoke either rage or submission in the noble men of my nation, and I have uses for both reactions.”

It was Adeline's turn to chuckle. “Control the daughters, sisters and wives of the court and thus you control the lords.” She bobbed a third curtsy. “It can be done, and immediately, your grace, only…”

“Only?” he asked, impatiently.

“Only I will require a sample of the royal seed, in order to complete the potion.”

The king nodded. “Take it then.”

Adeline smiled. Since the King made his request, she expected, and hoped, that this conversation might end in such a way. She gracefully rose and came to kneel before her king, delicately running a gloved hand down the royal cock, which twitched in response.

“It’s beautiful, Your Grace,” she said with a seductive smile as her hand stroked the king’s stone-hard manhood.

“I’m glad you approve, witch,” said the king, leaning back to relax on his throne.

The witch leaned in, running a soft tongue along the king’s cock, using her hand to stroke the head of it. She then put both hands together, stroking the cock between them.

The king watched her work with hard, dispassionate eyes. Adeline was disappointed- wasn’t her technique good enough? Her silky gloves soft enough? Hadn’t she planned an encounter like this to get close to the king from the start- though certainly not so soon? She stroked all the faster, hoping to please the king sufficiently before the strength of her arms gave out.

She needn’t have worried. Soon enough, the king closed his eyes with a sigh as the royal cock spurted a long line of thick, white cum onto Adeline’s face. The seed felt burning hot for a moment, as if the king was a stone-hard crucible for his passion and the semen was the result. A few more spurts ran over Adeline’s hands, as her stroking slowed. She raised a tongue to her own face, and sampled the royal seed. It was salty, musky, but good.

Using a glass vial produced from a sleeve, Adeline collected the drops of cum that still clung to the royal cock head. After which, she rose and curtsied.

“This is all I require, Your Grace,” she said smoothly, “May I be excused to go prepare the potion you have requested of me, my king?”

The king waved a hand in an almost bored way, making Adeline frown. But there was much work to be done, she thought as she turned and left the royal chambers. Opportunities such as this were not to wasted.

**2095conash** · 03-23-2019, 02:53 AM

Nice story, enjoyed a lot of the imagery and characters, but I think that you could probably use a prologue or something. The way that chapter 1 starts is hard to follow I feel, while letting people experience the world for themselves and learn as they go is nice, the first couple of paragraphs rely so heavily on in-world terminology at times that it feels like it's supposed to be read while you're explaining it to people. For example, let's take the final two sentences from the first paragraph,

The black-armoured giants who composed the elite Veronomigan Guard would eye her suspiciously before looking away. Though loyal to a fault and fearsome in battle, the huge northmen were notoriously superstitious, a fact which bolstered Adeline's pride in what would otherwise be an entire hostile situation.

Here we're introduced to the 'Veronomigan Guards', and then told that they're huge 'northmen', but what does that mean? Are they from the country immediately to the North? Are they from the far North? If it's common knowledge that these guards are northmen does that mean that Veronomigan is their home country and they're apart of a guard forced composed only of their kind, or are these individuals identified as northmen by them being 'giants' (which I'll note can be a bit hard to tell if you're being literal or figurative as we haven't gotten enough of an understanding of the world or the perspective that we're following to know if we're talking about a race of creatures that are inherently giant, or just very big guards that an average person would describe as 'giant'). Similar confusions can arise from talk about the nobles or the Kings, and it can just be difficult to digest when we don't even know the name of the country that we're in or the recent political events.

The opening paragraphs do a good job introducing us to the court politics, and an even better job introducing us to Adeline and how she fits into all of that, but when we're also trying to learn about the world, the situation, and why we should care at the same time it gets to be a bit distracting. A quick prologue unrelated to Adeline (so that we can learn of her in chapter 1 with no idea as it's meant to be) to help bring us into the world in one way or another, like maybe King Roland's internal musings before he summons Adeline (ending with the maids being brought in) could help a whole lot to make the transition into chapter 1 a lot smoother.

That said, after getting through the first two or so paragraphs it became a lot smoother as we had a good grasp on Adeline and a basis to work with for Roland, and it was easy enough to just focus on it and enjoy the back and forth that they had, along with interesting to see the little battle of wits they had, not to mention how things end up between the two it leaves me really wanting to see how Adeline 2 goes, whichever chapter that may be. King Roland's plans as well really leave me wanting to see how things will go because tightening his hold over the court by fucking all the women around the court (and presumably in it since Adeline's thoughts suggest it was her status as a near immortal witch that caused people to oppose her rather than her gender) sounds like a very fun story to read. Heck, I almost forgot to mention but reading about King Roland's rise to power reminded me of the CPG Gray video 'Rules for Rulers' and was just interesting to see how Roland rose to power as it helps indicate that even if this is clearly porn made to pander to a certain fetish, effort was still put in to make sure that it didn't break your own suspension of disbelief at least and hey, holds up in my book as well. Hope to see more of this when you get the time for it!

**NoMoshing** · 03-23-2019, 11:01 AM

Fair criticisms. I wrote this when I was a lot younger, and still took "show don't tell" to be an ironclad rule of fiction. For now trust that things will be made more clear in time, and certain elements are based on historical events or things that existed. The original version was actually quite a bit smaller (1.5 pages as opposed to 3 in OpenOffice) and most of what I fleshed out was the worldbuilding at the beginning, so I'll take your comments as a net positive in that regard.

And yeah, I've spiced up the political part of the plot with a fair dose of realpolitik- for example, in the original story, no mention is made of how the king maintains the loyalty of the elite guard and how the original king was deposed is handwaved even more.

**NoMoshing** · 03-24-2019, 10:17 PM

Colette I

The king's door, located behind and to the right of the throne from the King's perspective, lead to a stairway. Down lead to a panic room, stocked with supplies. Stocking those supplies- replacing the rations when they began to moulder, making sure the mechanism to the locking portcullis was functional, and, of course, keeping everything free from dust fell under Colette's direct purview, and it was the only duty that she always performed alone.

However, take those stairs up, and they would eventually lead to the royal apartments located directly above the throne room in the keep. The apartments were a sprawling, luxurious tangle of extra bedrooms, studies, libraries and private dining halls. In times past, the entire royal family- all brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, children and children in-law and grandchildren and so on- would live here, in the capital. Now, because the royal family had dwindled over time, there was only the king and his personal staff.

But before you reached that, there was a concealed gallery. Perhaps concealed wasn't the right word- the entire throne room was overseen by a second-level gallery, where non-functional members of the royal court could oversee proceedings in the actual throne room. From the ground floor, and the gallery across from it, the concealed area appeared to be part of the rest. But it was accessible only to the royal family and those they entrusted with their innermost sanctum- and it was here that Colette observed the meeting between Adeline and the King, just far enough back from the railing to be hidden in the shadows.

Colette's mouth was pressed into a tight line as she glared at the witch's back. Colette had served the king personally since she was twelve, first as a playmate and a companion- as daughter of the previous king's high steward, Colette was considered very minor nobility- and later as a lover and servant. And now, here was a very beautiful and very dangerous and- to Colette, at least- very unwelcome new presence in King Roland's life. Colette felt her distrust turn bitter in her mouth.

Just as the witch was about to disappear from view, Adeline turn seeming to glance back. A chill came over Colette as the witch's eyes passed over her hiding spot, but she dismissed the feeling as jitters. It was not possible for someone from the throne room to see her.

There was a tug on Colette's arm. “Please, mistress,” Katarin said in a strained whisper, “Let's go before he thinks we were spying on him.”

Colette coolly regarded the mousy-haired young girl. The former king's staff were given duties elsewhere, after the coup, and suddenly Colette and her four subordinates were saddled with the duty to take care of the entire royal apartments rather than the six-room suite King Roland kept for himself when he was a prince. Even if somehow the need to address the King's sexual satisfaction was set aside, they did not have the staff to make up the difference.

Katarin was her newest recruit, a shy country girl who ran away from a pastoral life to live with an uncle in the city. She was far too timid around King Roland, even considering the lewd things the King required of his personal maids, but finding new staff to fill out the royal apartments was a challenge. There were many beautiful girls, many girls who wanted to have sex with the King, and many girls who wanted employment in the castle. Finding people who satisfied all three requirements was difficult.

Katarin had been the most sought-after girl in her village, once. A modest bust, wavy hair, sparkling green eyes, and a slender, delicate figure that her form-hugging maid uniform showed off, the girl would have been a prize wife for some local merchant or plantation owner. But in the capital, the girl found a rude awakening. Beautiful, yes, but she was no longer remarkable, and the realization had awakened in her a timid streak.

Still, Colette could work with her. She had made good maids out of worse material before.

“A royal maid should be attentive to King Roland's needs,” she instructed, “His Grace sent us away, but did not give us new orders. Therefore, we remain out of sight until the King has need of us once more.”

The girl- Colette had trouble thinking of her as a woman despite the fact there were only four years between them- gave a hesitant nod. “I understand, mistress.”
Colette turned back to the throne room in time to notice that King Roland had risen, and was heading for the king's door. She spun on her heel, and gestured at the wall. “Out of the way, girl, and remember to curtsy as His Grace passes this time.”

Katarin paled with anxiety, but gave a brief nod and took her place obediently. Colette moved in beside her, tucking a errant curl of blonde hair behind her ear.

When King Roland topped the first flight of stairs, the two maids both curtsied deeply. King Roland stopped, and regarded them silently for a moment. Long enough that Colette began to feel the burn in her calves of holding that position, and Katarin began to wobble.

Wordlessly, King Roland took Katarin by the arm and pushed her back against the wall. The younger maid squeaked with surprise, her eyes widening in alarm. Then King then seized Colette and spun her, pushing her face-first into the other maid.

Colette was so surprised she barely registered her skirt being pulled up before the royal cock was rammed into her. It wasn't painful- the King was often impatient but not inconsiderate, and Colette was still a little aroused from her previous activities with the King. She could fee her face flush with arousal as the full length of His Grace pushed deep inside her eager pussy. Once, she was his first, a hushed dalliance in her room, far from the ears of the court. Despite King Roland claiming her dozens if not hundreds of times since, every time the pleasure she endured as the King used her to sate his lust was overwhelming.

Gradually, Colette became aware of how her breasts were rubbing up against Katarin's with the motion of the King's thrusts, and that the younger maid herself was getting flushed and breathless as well. Slowly, Katarin stuck out her tongue, although Colette, dazed with pleasure, didn't fully comprehend why until that tongue softly played over her lips. Colette responded in kind, the two maids not truly kissing twisting and entwining their tongue lewdly together in a way that she knew the King found pleasing.

The pumping of the King's hard cock into her increased, and Colette moaned into Katarin's mouth, grateful to have pleased him. She could feel the familiar tensing of his thighs, the ragged breathing that signalled that King Roland's ecstasy was upon him, and Colette pressed back harder, meeting his thrusts in an attempt to coax out the final climax.

She felt his single deep thrust, his shudder, the gasp of the King as he filled Colette's pussy and womb with thick, royal seed. Colette's own orgasm in response was a wild, writhing thing, forcing her body further down on King Roland's cock while she moaned and trembled.

Shutting her eyes tight, Colette prayed that, finally, some of that seed would find purchase inside her. She dare not ever dream of becoming queen- Colette knew her place- but she longed to be marked, for everyone, all the uptight nobles and lowly servants alike, to look on her and know, not gossip or rumour but know that she was King Roland's personal whore.

The King removed himself, and put away the royal cock. “Go finish the day's work,” he ordered offhandedly, “I'll be taking Cleo and Leana tonight.”

Flushed, Colette smoothed her skirt out, before offering an awkward curtsy, futilely trying to keep the royal seed from spilling down her thigh. “As you wish, Your Grace.”

As the King continued up the stairs, the flushed, aroused and frustrated Katarin reached after him, and mewled “Your Grace, I....”
Colette slapped her full in the face. Not hard enough to leave a mark- His Grace would never tolerate that- but enough to interrupt her and get her attention.

“You have your orders, girl,” Colette said sternly, safely back in the facade of the head maid with hardly any effort, “Yours is not to beg unless King Roland asks you to. If you have a need, take care of it in private.”

Frightened, yet still needful, Katarin bit her lip, before bobbing a brief curtsy and rushing off, probably back to her own bedroom.

Only when the younger maid was out of sight did Colette sigh heavily and let herself relax, leaning against the wall and once more looking down into the throne room. She turned over in her mind the King's request of Adeline and what it would mean for her and the girls.

Head filled with uneasy thoughts, she turned and ascended into the royal apartments.

**2095conash** · 03-26-2019, 12:07 AM

Well Colette is quite the character. Childhood friend who's basically on the verge of Yandere is probably how I'd best describe her. Definitely fun to read about how she eagerly is on the hunt for and trains up girls whom she knows that Roland is going to be having sex with, basically taking pride in training his own harem even when she doesn't get to be part of the action despite wanting to be so close to him. Given her situation I can understand that the differences of their positions could lend her to having a measure of humility which is why she's respecting that he's a king and not trying to kidnap him or be his Queen, and if we assume that at least the King/Queen having a harem isn't frowned upon I can kinda understand her not taking issue with Roland having sex with the girls that she's got control over, which in turn would help explain her immediate resistance to Adeline, though as fun as it is to read things from Colette's perspective, it does leave a more rational part of my brain wondering what it is that Roland did to earn this measure of devotion from her as there's more than just occupational obligation going on here, even if she was raised to be his first cum dum- I mean personal maid. Now I'm just wondering when we'll find the red-headed glasses wearing sister who gets all huffy about how she should be in charge but secretly just wants to be Roland's play-thing, then again perhaps this piece of erotica predates NoMoshing being able to point a finger at one or more of those qualities being something he likes to put on characters.

**NoMoshing** · 03-26-2019, 01:33 PM

Funny, the original used the term "cum dumpster" in place of "personal whore", I switched it around because of the anachronism.

Also...

RED HAIR IS CUTE

IMOUTOS AND ONEE-CHANS ARE CUTE

I ACCIDENTALLY COMBINED THEM TWICE JEEZ

**NoMoshing** · 03-27-2019, 11:10 AM

Adeline II

It took only one week for Adeline to research the proper ingredients, perfect her technique, and craft the potion to her satisfaction. Pleased with her cunning, she ventured out of her laboratory, situated in one of the lesser keeps of the castle, just long enough to find one of the common maids of the castle and send a message to His Grace, inviting him to come see her work for herself.

To the untrained eye, the laboratory appeared much like a kitchen, with dried herbs and jars of strange powders and spices at hand, a cauldron for the fireplace, knives and tools of all sizes about. It was only on close inspection that one would notice the runes inscribed into a blade, the well-worn spell circle cut into a countertop. For Adeline, it had been home for near three-quarters of a century, a place of comfort away from the more populous parts of the castle.

I did not take long for King Roland to arrive, leaving the two black-armoured guards that flanked him outside of Adeline's sanctum. The heavy oaken door, itself subtly inscribed with magical sigils on the inside, slammed shut, leaving the witch and the king alone.

Grinning with pride, Adeline offered the king a glass flask filled with a thick, greyish liquid. "Your Grace, may I offer you a drink?"

King Roland silently regarded the flask for a moment, then, meeting Adeline's eyes, he unstoppered it and started drinking. Soon, he had finished the potion, and put the empty flask down.

“Chalky” he remarked flatly, “I don’t feel any different. Are you certain your potion works, witch?”

Adeline nodded, with a satisfied look on her face. “You won’t feel any different- by design, it changes the quality of your semen. The potion itself is otherwise inert- it does not act upon you so much as transport part of you. No more than cutting a different length of board changes the sawmill."

King Roland frowned, processing the analogy. "And it functions as I asked?"

"Not quite," Adeline said with a small frown, idly playing with the potion bottle, "I came as close as I could. But, please understand, Your Grace, even so this is no less than a miracle of magical ingenuity.”

The king folded his arms and leaned against one of the witch’s workshop tables. “Explain,” he commanded.

“In exchange for the effects to be permanent, and for your own semen to not act upon you, it functions in a three-step process," Adeline replied, "The first time a woman contacts your seed, it induces an immediate reaction. The woman orgasms, then…”

“I do not believe I have trouble with that aspect of sex,” the king interrupted.

“No,” the witch replied, “I'm sure you don't, Your Grace. The orgasm is a side effect of how the potion works upon a woman's mind, and it will trigger the moment any woman touches your semen. For roughly an hour, the woman then becomes perfectly compliant with your will, then the potion wears off.”

King Roland’s face darkened. “I need a permanent effect, witch.”

“Your Radiance is so impatient... let me finish, if it pleases you.” The witch motioned in a placating gesture. “The second time a woman touches your seed- with any part of her body, mind you- her tongue, womb, bottom, hands, face, whatever His Grace prefers- the perfect obedience lasts longer, likely about three hours, and the woman is permanently enamoured with you. She is not compelled to obey you per se, but she’ll constantly long for you, like a maiden for her first love.”

“The final act,” she said with a grand gesture, “Makes her yours forever. The third time she touches your seed, she is a slave to your will for all time. She is compelled to obey your every command, not other man nor woman will be able to satisfy her sexually, and she will feel great distress when you are away for long enough. She also becomes addicted to your seed, and will crave it. But, you must also be careful- perfect obedience does not mean she will not be able to be manipulated or deceived, or that she cannot unintentionally ruin your plans for you.”

King Roland nodded, taking all this information in. “Could I take a woman thrice within one hour, then, and have her move to the final stage of the magic right away?”

Adeline frowned. “You could… but most women would be broken by so much stimulation all at once.” She shrugged. “Perhaps some may have the will to keep from breaking, but each time you do that is a risk. Better to take them slowly, unless you want a mentally shattered shadow of a girl that does but crave for your seed and care for naught else.”

The king nodded. “What else, witch? Any other dire warnings?”

The witch smiled slyly. “Of a sort. Your semen has no effect on men.”

King Roland raised an eyebrow, but the witch only shrugged in response.

“Remember, contact is all you require. You could simply spill your seed on a woman’s food, or touch her with semen on your hands, and ensnare her such. If you choose to seduce or force your attentions on a woman, it’s simply an unnecessary extra step.”

“Very well, I shall have to test it immediately.”

The King seized Adeline, sending the glass flask crashing to the floor. Adeline put on her act, pretending to be wide-eyed with surprise, to struggle against his firm grip as he bent her over the counter, but it was going according to her plan. This "rape" was something she had been preparing for all week.

"Please, sire, I've done as you asked...." she begged, only to be cut off in a moan as the king penetrated her, his hard length ramming deep inside her pussy. He assaulted her sensitive flower, over and over, filling the room with the wet sounds of their flesh. Adeline countinue to squirm and beg and moan while being pinned to the table, but her arousal was not an act. Somehow, to the cunning witch who had manipulated and seduced and politicked for almost a century, submitting to the strength and pleasure of someone else was powerfully erotic. It was as though once she was captured, only then was she free to experience every subtlety and truly lose herself to the power of their sex.

When the King climaxed, and filled her battered pussy with his cum, the orgasm tore through her mind and body like a hot blade, making Adeline buck and shiver wildly. The warmth in her womb felt intoxicating, and it was if a bolt of lightning had struck her and awakened all of her senses. Adeline was no virgin, but no other act before this had ever felt so powerful.

King Roland roughly pulled her up off the counter and yanked at her dress, tearing it away until the witch was naked before him. With a single hand, he pushed Adeline, who was still in the midst of her orgasmic daze, down onto her knees, and and placed the royal cock, still slick with cum, between her breasts.

Adeline needed no further instruction. She pressed her breasts together, and started bobbing, stroking her King' magnificent cock between them.

"Did you make an antidote, witch?" the King asked sternly.

Adeline squeezed her eyes shut and winced. How could she ever been so arrogant? The royal family has protected and kept her all these years, and she thanked them by trying to lie and manipulate this powerful, regal man into being her puppet? She would have to work very hard to please him and make all this up to him.

"Th-the drawer," she replied, gesturing with her eyes, unwilling to stop pleasing her Master's cock. "Th-there's a false back, so you have to pull it all the way out."

King Roland pulled the drawer beneath the counter out with a single tug, found the four vials of watery purple liquid concealed there, and one by one dumped them on the floor. All the while, Adeline kept up rubbing his rod between the breasts. This was all as it should be, after all, with her completely subordinate to his will, and her perfidy exposed and spilt on the floor where it couldn't hurt anyone.

The King then began to give himself over to the pleasure of her ministrations, seeming to relax and enjoy it. He seized a fistful of Adeline's silvery hair and used it to control her pace, making the witch speed up to better suit his desires. Despite the pain, she found herself gently nuzzling his hand. Every sensation the King provided to her felt like a blessing, and giving up control to him felt just so very... right.

Suddenly, the King grunted, and a jet of rich semen shot up onto Adeline's face. The orgasm that seized her then completely overshadowed the first, causing her to moan aloud and fall her to her hands and knees, trembling as every muscle in her body seemed to writhe in ecstasy. She lost all track of time and reality, and when King Roland seized her once more by the hair and pulled her up to look at him, she felt only complete and total bliss.

“You will never brew an antidote again without my express permission, nor will you ever drink an antidote given to you. Do you understand?”

"Yes, Master," she said obediently, not fully comprehending the meaning of his words. She was disappointed that her Master wasn't giving her cock... until she remember that his glorious semen was still plastered to her face and chest. Idly, she began scooping some up with her fingers and licking it off. For some reason it wasn't quite the same, but still tasted heavenly.

"Are you part of a conspiracy, or alone in your attempts to control me."

Adeline wondered why her Master cared about anything that was using her body and filling her with his magnificent seed, but if you Master willed it, she must obey. "It was part of a conspiracy, Master. An attempt for me to distract you with your own sexual desires while some of your court seized control of the army and treasury. I want no part of it now, Master. I only want to be yours."

"Who else conspired with you?"

"Lords Ambrien and Oculi," The names flowed freely from Adeline's lips, and it felt good to make her Master happy, "Lady Nessane, and the Prioress of River-of-the-Lilies Cathedral."

"Is that all?"

"Yes, Master," the witch replied, reaching out to cling to his leg, "Please, let me make it up to you, Master. You can own my mind, my body, my soul, my magic, all that I have. All that I am is your plaything, please!"

“I know,” was all the king said, as he grasped her by the hair again, lifting her lips to the head of the royal cock.

Adeline’s lips parted and she closed her eyes. Protecting her sanity was the furthest thing on her mind.

**NoMoshing** · 04-16-2019, 01:32 AM

Desiree I

Lady Desiree Amrien had been surprised to hear that his highness, King Roland, had come to her husband’s manor, especially at so late an hour. As she knew it, the freshly minted king rarely visited his subject lords at home, instead preferring that they meet with him inside the castle’s walls. Her lord husband had often ranted about how this was a sign of the king's weakness, that he doesn't dare leave behind the safety of his palace to visit others, and that his true influence does not extend beyond the castle's walls. Desiree didn't know if it was true or not- the king was the king of the entire kingdom, wasn't he?- and only paid half-attention when her lord husband worked up into one of his lathers.

But now, the king himself was here, not an hour past dinner. Some important business must have driven him to meet with her lord husband at home, Desiree was convinced. Unfortunately, His Grace picked a poor time to arrive, as her husband was still away at whatever business he had that consumed his afternoon and evening.

"So it is up to me to entertain His Majesty until Benoit returns," she told herself while standing at her full-length mirror. She carefully brushed back honey-blonde hair, as a serving girl tightened the corset on her pale pink dress, one that bared her shoulders and displayed her generous cleavage while accenting her curves. It was, perhaps, a little racy for meeting with the king, but if she could awaken some desire in the king, it might prove advantageous for her husband. At least, that seemed the sort of thing, to her, that a cunning lady might try to do.

"Yes, milady," the serving girl replied.

Once she was laced in, Desiree dismissed her serving girl and proceeded to the tea room where her royal guest was waiting. Making the king wait also seemed like a cunning thing to do. Her lord husband often made people visiting him on business wait unnecessarily.

As she meandered her way through the manor, Desiree couldn't help but notice that her husband's house guards were gone, replaced by massive men, each not less than six feet tall, with thick, tangled beards and black armour. The royal guards, she supposed. Well, the safety of the king would be paramount- perhaps they merely sent the house guards away and took over while the king was here. After all, he was more important.

When she entered the tea room, with it's plush couches, glass display cases of fine china, and delicately carved table, the king was standing by the window, looking contemplatively at the courtyard garden. The click of the door shutting behind her drew his attention, and he smiled easily at her. "Lady Desiree Amrien. You are more lovely that I had imagined."

Desiree felt her cheeks grow warm and she offered a curtsy. She knew her own reputation- a beautiful young woman married off to be second wife to an influential older man. Some called her a "bedwarmer", others less savoury names. No doubt that's where King Roland's imaginings had stemmed from. "Your Grace is too kind," she replied, before noticing the tea service tray had been set on a side table, away from the sitting area at the centre of the room. "You do not wish for tea, Your Grace? Is there something else I can send for?"

"There is no need, everything I desire is already at hand," he replied, before gesturing for Desiree to sit as one of the couches. Confused, she obeyed her king's direction, trying to puzzle out the meaning of his words.

"What brings you all the way to my humble home, Your Grace?" she asked politely, "I thought your normally chose to entertain rather than impose on the hospitality of your lords and ladies?"

"I have a private matter to discuss with Lord Amrien," the king replied, smiling in a way that reminded Desiree, uncomfortably, of a cat cornering a mouse, "Though I suppose I should impose upon my tribute lords more often, if their hospitality comes so thoughtfully presented."

It took Desiree a moment to understand what the king was saying, and she felt her cheeks aflame again. Her plan appeared to be working, at least, and for that she was glad. The king's expression was lustful, she realized, and the feeling of his hungry gaze on her made her equal parts discomfited and aroused. To be lusted after by a man who could have any woman in his kingdom was flattering in a way that seemed almost erotic.

"Your lord husband, does he still feel displeased by how I usurped his position at the treasury?" King Roland asked, as he came around the room to stand behind Desiree.

"Oh... not that I'm aware of, Your Grace," She knew that she shouldn't lie to the king, but it also wouldn't do to betray her lord husband's confidence. Besides, Benoit's former position at the treasury was among the least of his complaints about the new king. "He doesn't tell me much about that sort of thing. Politics, I mean. After all, I'm just his wife."

"Ah, of course," The king loomed over her, leaning down to put his mouth close to her ear. Lady Desiree, would you like me to tie you up and rape you now?"

"Uh, tie, and, uh, rape, Your Grace?" Desiree's eyes went wide, and she felt a nervous lurch in her tummy. She couldn't quite believe that the king had said something like that. "I-I'm afraid I do not understand...."

Before she realized what was going on, King Roland had seized her wrists, and dragged her off the couch and onto her knees. By the time she began to fight back against him, the king had wrapped some kind of silken scarf around her wrists, binding them firmly together, but not so hard that it hurt. She screamed as she struggled, but nobody came.

"I'm sorry to have to do this to you, Lady Desiree," the king told her as he pulled her onto the table, and flipped her onto her back, "But your lord husband has been a very naughty man. If it's any consolation, however, my arousal for you is entirely honest."

Desiree squirmed as she felt the king reach under her skirts. "Please, Your Grace!" she begged, "You don't have to... to... ravish me! I'm sorry for whatever we did to displease you!"

With the hem of her dress bunched up around her waist, the king began to froce her legs apart. "Well, Lady Desiree, in that, you're... hmm? What's this?" The king ripped away her underclothes, and held them up to examine them in the candlelight. "Lady Desiree, you're soaking wet. Have you been wishing for me to fuck you?"

"No, please...!" Her pleas were cut off with a moan as the king ran a finger within her slit, touching ever so lightly on the hard nub of her clit.

“Well, my lady,” the king said, pushing her arms down over her head, “I shan’t keep you waiting. Your wish is getting granted today.”

The royal cock pushed between Desiree’s lower lips in one smooth stroke, helped by her overflowing wetness, and she simply lost herself. King Roland was so strong, able to stop her struggles with one hand if he needed to, that Desiree was rendered completely helpless. No one but her husband had ever penetrated her, and her husband’s panting exertions could simply not compare to how it felt to be so completely dominated. Her body responded, completely absent of her protests, her arching back and spreading thighs allowing the king to penetrate her deeper than she had ever been filled before. Before long, Desiree was straining and writhing in the king's clutches, not because she was resisting him, but in the throes of a powerful orgasm. And yet, relentlessly, the king kept thrusting on.

Suddenly, King Roland seemed to seize, and the royal cock exploded inside her, jets of the king’s seed filling her as they orgasmed simultaneously. If anything, this orgasm was even more powerful than thefirst, leaving Desiree dazed and panting. She was only dimly aware of the bonds being removed from her wrists. She could nothing except pant with exertion on the tea room table.

In her state, she only vaguely understood the talking around her.

“He’s arrived, My Liege,” said an unfamiliar voice.

“Good. Take him into custody, and bring him before me.”

Ah, that was the voice of the king. The king that Desiree served with all of her heart. After all, he truly cared for her, didn’t he? He just gave her the precious gift of his royal seed.

“Lady Desiree?”

She opened her eyes and gazed at the king. He was reclining back on the couch, at his ease, his stiff manhood erect before him. Hurriedly, she remembered her manners, stood and curtsied, awkwardly trying to keep her legs closed enough that His Grace's cum did not escape. “How may I serve you, Master?”

Funny she should call him that, suddenly. It was an improper title for a king. But, somehow, it felt so right.

“When your lord husband comes into the room, you will agree with everything I say.”

Desiree nodded eagerly. Of course she would. He was the king, after all. Suddenly, she squirmed a little, realizing the king’s semen was running down her thighs. That was too precious a gift to lose like that.

“Now, my lady, you are a terrible slut for being so wet and ready for me when I ravished you.”

She nodded, suddenly ashamed. “I’m sorry, Your Grace,” she said, feeling the ehat in her cheeks yet again, “I hadn’t realized I was such a slut. Forgive me.”

King Roland shrugged. “My cock seems to be covered in our juices. I’m sure if you cleaned me off, I could forgive you, slut.”

Ah, a chance at redemption! Surely the king was compassionate beyond compare for such an opportunity. Desiree lowered herself to her knees before the king, and busily began licking the cream of their lovemaking off the royal cock.

The door burst open, and Desiree turned to see a pair of those black-clad guards hauling in her husband. Lord Benoit Amrien was an obese man stuffed into velvet and finery, giving her the impression that he was a creampuff decorated by an over-enthusiastic patisserie. Her husband saw the position she was in, and his eyes bulged with surprise. It was then Desiree remembered that she was not yet done cleaning off the royal cock, and turned her back on her husband to lap up the last of the semen and love juices from the king’s rod.

“What is the meaning of this!? W-Why would you insult me so by cuckolding me right before my eyes?” demanded her husband.

“Lady Desiree simply knows where her true loyalty lies, Amrien,” the king replied, “And she knows I expect total obedience. Desiree?”

Hearing her name called, she gazed lovingly up at her king. “Yes, Your Grace?” she asked, tentatively.

“Why don’t you face your husband, sitting on the floor in the manner of a dog, and bark twice.”

An odd request, but it was the king. Desiree turned, folded her legs under her, and regarded her husband. He was on his knees too, with the blades of the royal guard's massive poleaxes at his throat. He glared at her venomously. Wasn’t she supposed to obey the king? She didn’t understand why her lord husband would be so displeased. But she did hold her hands out before her like a dog would, and mimicked a dog’s bark twice, as ordered.

“You see, Amrien?” King Roland said easily, “Your lady wife here knows her place. And if you were more constant in your vows of fealty to me, that place would have been beside you.”

“I still don’t know wha-“

“Silence, you great fat idiot,” the king snapped, “I know all about your little conspiracy. Believe me, I’ll be very busy this night dealing with your traitorous friends. Until then…”

The king pushed her onto all fours, and rammed the royal cock inside her once more. Desiree moaned, and her husband flushed angrily as the king started to thrust inside her.

“Are you a slut, Lady Desiree?” inquired the king as he pumped away, taking her like a dog would.

“Now see here…” was all Lord Amrien got out before she shouted, “Yes! I am a slut! Please, more!”

The king grinned wickedly. “Whose slut are you?”

“Yours, Your Grace!” Desiree gasped, “I’m your slut! The king's slut!”

“You’re the king’s stupid whore, who loves to be fucked silly, aren’t you?” the king inquired further.

Desiree moaned loudly. To be forced to say such vile things aroused her, even more than the bonds did the first time. “Yes, Master, I’m your stupid whore! Please, keep fucking me senseless!”

The guards kept their spears at Lord Amrien’s throat, but it was clear to Desiree that her husband was getting more and more agitated. She couldn’t understand why. Wasn’t there an advantage if she had the king’s attention?

“Who fucks you better, slut? Me or your husband?” the king asked.

Desiree moaned again. She loved the feeling of the hard, royal cock sliding into her. “You, Your Grace,” she moaned, “You fuck me better than my lord husband ever has!”

King Roland laughed out loud. “Well, slut,” he asked, “Has your husband ever fucked you in the ass?”

“No, Master, Your Grace,” Desiree panted, “I never let him, even if he asked.” Her husband glared at her, face red with rage and jowls quivering. Why? Wasn’t she supposed to be honest with the king?

“Well, slut…” the king said in a low voice, “Would you like me to fuck your ass?”

The thought of being violated further was almost enough to make her cum right there. “Yes!” she shouted, “Yes, Your Grace, please fuck your dirty little whore in the ass!”

“Well, Amrien,” Roland said amicably, “It would be rather ungracious for me to ignore such an urgent request from a lady.”

“Go to hell, you bastard,” her husband replied.

The king simply tsked in reply. “Now, now, Lord Amrien… know this. Everything you have, is mine. Your house. Your son. Your wife. I am simply taking back what belongs to me, as payment for your betrayal. Isn’t that right, slut?”

“Please, Master,” she begged, “Your slut needs to be fucked in the ass….”

With that, the king pulled out of her just long enough to realign himself and thrust back in. Feeling the royal cock push into her ass set Desiree trembling with mixed pleasure and pain. It felt glorious. She loved being defiled by the king. She didn’t know why she struggled so much the first time. She wanted him to treat her like a whore, to spank her for disobedience, to force her to do such vile things in front of others. She wanted to, longed to be his, in every way a man could have a woman.

She shuddered her way through another orgasm, when the royal cock was abruptly removed from her. She looked back at King Roland and whimpered, but all she received in reply was, “Later, slut,” as the king returned his clothing to rights.

“Now, Lord Amrien, I am a forgiving man…”

Desiree’s husband shook his head. “No, you’re a monster.”

The king nodded, and one of the royal guard flipped his poleaxe around to bash Lord Amrien in the mouth with the butt end. The fat lord had to pick himself up from the floor to resume kneeling, only to have to spit out fragments of a shattered tooth.

“Not a monster,” the king said clearly, “A man. And an ambitious one. Too ambitious by far to have to deal with the petty games of my own lords. I have great plans, and you will not get in the way.”

The king gallantly offered a hand to Desiree, which she took to stand once more, beaming at the king the whole time. Clearly, she was favoured for him to take her as his slut.

“Now. I will let you go, and perhaps I will find some small use for you. But I am taking both your wife and your son hostage. Betray me, and I will see your lady wife in the stockade, free to be taken by any soldier or peasant with a hard cock and some free time. She’ll also be screaming her pleasure and denouncing your skills as a man the whole time.” The thought of being defiled so thoroughly got Desiree wet all over again. It would be sad that it wasn’t the king, but she was loyal, just like the king said, and would proudly obey. “Your house will be dissolved, and your assets seized, your son given to some orphanage where he will no doubt learn a valuable place in society as a charcoal burner or dung collector.”

“Should you serve me loyally from now on,” the king continued, “In time your wife and child may be returned to you. And if you are very, very fortunate, it will be before I’ve planted a bastard in your wife’s womb for you to take care of for me.” The king paused, regarding Lord Amrien quietly. “Do you understand?”

The fat lord sighed, eyes cast down. “Yes, Your Grace.” Was all he replied.

“Good.” The king motioned, and the two royal guards lifted their spears. “It appears your entire house guard has been conscripted into the royal army,” the king said, “So I will leave twenty of my own men to keep your house and your person safe. As well as some scribes, to help you keep your accounts and check the spelling of your personal correspondence for you.”

“Come, Lady Desiree,” the king said, offering his arm, “I hope to get you settled in the castle before the night is done.”

“Yes, Master,” was all she replied before she took his arm, her broken husband forgotten.

**NoMoshing** · 09-08-2019, 04:52 PM

Marie I

The actual manor of House Nessane was near the city limits, perched near the edge of the disused wood that served as the royal family's hunting ground. While not a vast estate, it was far from humble, and key among it's features was a carefully tended rose garden tucked away inside a delicate glass greenhouse.

Lady Marie Nessane enjoyed doting on her garden. She was a tall, slender woman of graceful step, with a flood of deep crimson hair flowing down her back, and dark amber eyes. She wore a simple brown woolen gown for working about the garden, and an apron and gloves to protect herself from the soil.

The garden itself was the pride of her late husband. Hers was a marriage of vanity- a man far too old who already had an heir plucking an innocent girl just barely old enough that it wasn't a scandal. And, of course, when Lord Nessane managed to get her with child shortly after their wedding, all of Marie's peers began gossiping on the assumption that Lord Nessane was a saint rather than a vain old man, having married her to cover up some impropriety that left Marie unmarried and pregnant. Despite her being a scared little girl, The old man fussed over his rose garden more than he ever had time for his second wife, only ever coming to her in order to sate his lusts.

Some years ago, when their daughter was still too young to remember, a sudden sickness came over old Lord Nessane. While he was bedridden and recuperating, his drunkard of a son happened to be robbed and murdered on his way back from the tavern one night... which resulted in the old lord dying of grief some few days later. A tragedy, really. But this left Marie as her late husband's heir, and her sole daughter, Angeline, to inherit after her.

All of what once belonged to old Lord Nessane was now Marie's. Including his beloved garden.

Marie was carefully trimming back dying blossoms when the black-armoured royal guards came for her. She had to bite back a curse- she had always suspected that the king was too bright for his own good. She carefully set down her clippers and stood, showing her hands so they could see she was unarmed. "I am surrendering, there is no need for violence. All that I ask is that you not trample my roses."

The two guards exchanged glanced, taken aback. "King Roland awaits, my lady."

She removed her gloves and dropped them next to her clippers. This shouldn't take long- after all, what evidence would the king have of her part in the conspiracy? They had taken care to never put things in writing. "Very well. I assume you have a carriage waiting for me?"

The guard shook his great head, while the other grew a lewd grin. "No, my lady," the first one replied, "He is within your manor, speaking with your daughter."

That did cause Marie to frown with puzzlement. Why would the king come here, personally? "Lead on, then, if you please."

And so they did. Outside her manor, in the long drive before the main doors, there were the massive warhorses that the Veronomigan Guard used- the only beasts capable of bearing the massive giants, truth be told. Beside that was one of the royal carriages, and within, was that... Desiree and Adeline? A sinking feeling, deep within Marie's gut, began to grow stronger.

The guards lead her inside the manor, but passed by all the guest areas and began to lead up to the second floor. Further puzzled, Marie inquired, "Where does it please his grace to speak with me? My study?"

"No, my lady, he wishes to speak with you in the master bedroom."

The master bedroom? Suddenly it occurred to Marie what must be happening to her daughter, and she lunged up the stairs, taking the guards by surprise. She was already up to the first landing by the time they shouted after her, and she raced to the bedroom, grateful for her practical, flat-soled gardening shoes. Had she been dressed as a proper lady should, the heels would have prevented this dash to protect her daughter. There were more guards outside the master bedroom, but they did not bar Marie's way, one even opening the door for her, even though she ended up shoving through before he could get it fully open.

Marie shouted in wordless anger at what she beheld when she ran into the bedroom. The king reclined on Marie’s bed, naked, and seemingly unconcerned with Marie's intrusion. Meanwhile, her daughter, with the same dark red hair and graceful stature as her mother, only painted with more freckles and with smaller breasts, was similarly naked and kneeling over the king... who seemed to enjoy himself as Angeline’ head bobbed over the royal cock.

The door slammed shut behind Marie, leaving the three of them alone. “Your… what… Angeline! Come away from there!” Marie stammered out.

Angeline bolted upright, staring at her mother in horror, blushing furiously. She then ran away from the bedside, to wrap her arms around her mother and bury her head in the older woman’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, mother…” the young girl sobbed, “I know I’m supposed to be kept pure, but he told me you were a traitor, and I had to show my loyalty to the throne….”

“Shh, sweetling, hush…” Marie said as she comforted the girl. She glared daggers at the king. “I know you have business with me, your grace, but leave my daughter out of this. She had no part in it, and deserves none of your… ill treatment.”

King Roland rose out of bed smoothly. “So you say,” he replied, stretching luxuriously, “And perhaps, if I was a good man, I would agree with you. But a good man and a good king are two very different things.”

“You’re a monster, that’s what you are,” growled Marie.

“That’s the second time today a traitor has told me that,” said the king thoughtfully. “You sought to take away the power that is my birthright and reduce me to a puppet on the throne, and called that 'right'? 'Just'? Then, I shall take away everything you hold dear and reduce you to my toy, a plaything that I control, and call that justice.”

Suddenly the king’s hand shot out and seized the bodice hem of Marie’s dress, and easily tore the fabric away from her skin, revealing her bountiful chest. He then reached out and seized a fistful of her long luxurious hair in hand, and pulled Marie down to her knees. She had no choice but to obey.

Angeline squeaked in surprise as the King grabbed her hair, similarly, but now to bring her down, but rather to fling the lithe young girl back towards the bed.

Marie could but laugh, despite being at eye level with the king's massive member. “You speak of justice and then decide to rape me?” she taunted, “You are an inconstant king, your grace.”

“Believe it or no, Lady Nessane,” the king replied as he reached down to pump his fist over the royal cock, “I’ve never forced myself on anyone who didn’t long for it, although I've never stopped myself from convincing women to long for it, of course. And I can tell that you don’t believe me. At least, not yet.”

Marie did not struggle as the king pleasured himself, with the royal cock’s swollen head pointed at her face. She could deal with being dirtied with king’s cum- had she not, after all, expected far worse from him. She was more than a little disappointed at seeing past the king to where Angeline had lifted one leg onto the bed, lowering herself gingerly onto the delicately carved footboard and surreptitiously began rubbing her sex against it while she watched the king masturbate. Marie would have to have words with Angeline later- clearly the king taking advantage of her had done something to corrupt her daughter with his own lewd nature.

Suddenly, the king grunted softly, and the royal seed shot forth to splash on Marie’s face and hair. Marie was prepared for that- while she had never been treated so, she had heard when she was younger, with friends giggling in corners as they shared naughty secrets, that some men like to decorate their women with thier semen. Was took her entirely by surprise was the enormous orgasm that tore through. Her knees went weak and she fell, the king releasing her hair, and her hands scrabbled at the carpet floor as she moaned. She was entirely helpless to the sensation, the knowledge that she was cumming so hard in front of her own daughter lost with all other conscious thought.

When she came back to reality, Marie gasped in horror. What had she been thinking? She had actually tried to manipulate and control the king! The man who was her ruler by birthright! She was lucky the king hadn’t set her to swing on the gallows by now. She felt tears well up in her eyes. Whatever possessed King Roland to have mercy on her, to give her the gift of his cum instead of punishing her for her misdeeds, she could not say, but she owed this man her obedience, her life, her everything.

Suddenly, Marie knew what she had to do.

She rose hastily, shrugging off the tatters of her gown, and approached to where her daughter had come back to her own feet. Marie had one chance to try and make it up to the king for her rebellion. “It’s time to go lie down, Angeline,” she said quietly, gently taking her daught by the hands.

“But… but mother…” Angeline stammered quietly.

“Hush, sweetling,” Marie said as she lead the girl around to the side of the bed. Ever so gently she lowered her daughter to the bed, before turning to look back to the king.

“Please, my liege,” Marie said, reaching one hand between her daughter’s legs to pull open the girl’s pussy. “I can never thank you for your mercy and kindness. To being making up for my betrayal, please, I beg of you, take my most precious possession and make her yours.”

The king could only laugh at this turn of events. “With pleasure, Lady Nessane,” he replied as he stalked towards the bed.

Marie gazed lovingly down at Angeline as the king clambered into bed. The girl was confused, but aroused, blushing deeply. She stroked her daughter’s ruby locks, and whispered, “This is for the best, sweetling. It will only hurt for a moment, then you can enjoy serving our king and master.”

Angeline nodded bravely, as the king climbed up onto the mattress and pulled her legs apart, then she shut her eyes in a mix of pain and pleasure as Marie felt the royal cock slip between her fingers and into her daughter. She let her hand linger there awhile, feeling the slide of the royal cock in and out as Wesley claimed her daughter's virginity, exulting in the pleasure evident on her Master's face as he used Marie's daughter for his pleasure. It was perhaps not as good as the king fucking Marie himself, but she still felt, by submitting Angeline for his use, she was still providing for her Master's pleasure.

Angeline gripped the sheets in ecstasy as the king took her, writhing at the feeling of being fucked for the first time. Marie could only dimly recall what coupling with her late husband was like, but it didn't seem to be remotely close to the very evident sensual pleasure Angeline seemed to be taking from the royal cock. While the girl panted and moaned under his assault, the king looked into Marie's eyes, and ordered, “Look at your daughter, Lady Marie, don’t you think you experience could be heightened if you helped her?” Marie looked back to her daughter, who was flushed red with excitement, writhing on her own, and could only nod. She had to please her King and Master, after all.

Adjusting her position on the bed slightly, Marie bent towards her daughter's chest, reached out her tongue to swirl around her daughter’s nipple, which made Angeline buck all the harder in bed. Marie’s hand moved, her fingers seeking out her daughter’s clit- a place Marie herself only knew from youthful experimentation after her marriage left her unfulfilled- and began stroking it lightly as the king thrust inside. “Mother, what are you…” was all Angeline managed before moaning loudly as her climax overcame her.

Without any mercy, Marie kept playing with the girl’s clitoris, in awe of how beautiful her daughter looked when she came. Her King was claiming her daughter, and soon they would both belong to him, and somehow, that just seemed right.

Marie returned to lapping at her daughter’s nipple just as the king’s pumping began to increase in intensity. Suddenly, he convulsed, burying himself in the young girl down to the hilt, and Marie imagined what it must be like for her daughter to be filled with the royal seed, to feel that warm rush of cum. A short stab of jealousy caused her to bit down on her daughter’s nipple, which seemed to only make the girl orgasm all the harder.

When Angeline opened her eyes, it was to regard His Grace with eyes full of adoration. The king chuckled deeply, and Marie kissed her daughter’s cheek softly, her own emotions a turmoil of arousal, gratitude, pride and love for her daughter. Never had she felt more complete.

“Come then, both of you,” King Roland said as he stood, “There is much work to be done before you have redeemed yourselves. This is but a start.”

**NoMoshing** · 11-24-2019, 12:56 PM

Gabrielle I

Prioress Gabrielle stalked the halls of River-of-the-Lilies Cathedral like a leopard out for prey. The news from her eyes and ears had been dire- Houses Amrien, Nessane and Oculi, all visited in turn by the king and the savages he called his royal guard. Although her spies confirmed that only Lord Oculi had been arrested and charged, all three have had their personal guards suddenly “volunteer for the Royal Army”. Amrien's moronic trophy wife, Lady Nessane and her sheltered little brat were hauled off somewhere- likely the castle so the king could keep them as hostages.

The nun was still in the fullness of youth and beautiful to look at, with raven-dark hair and matching eyes, contrasting against her pale skin, and a shapely figure that her habit was not quite able to hide from the hungering eyes of the capital's priests. Though she had kept true to her vows of chastity, Gabrielle was formerly a base orphan, raised on the streets, and thus knew well how easily the wicked hearts of men could be lead by a pretty face and a shapely body.

Rank and authority among the sisters was determined by age and piety, but with a seemingly native talent for politics and deceit, and the favour of the priests and bishops who did not quite dare to try and tempt her from God, Gabrielle ruled over spinsters and retired ladies alike in spite of her youth. Having grown up within the intrigue of the church, she knew it very well indeed, and until now had navigated it without fault or foul.

As Gabrielle moved through the halls, her face a thunderhead of barely-restrained fury, novices quailed from her, scattering out of her way. When she arrived at the door to cell, she clawed aggressively at the handle and then slammed it shut behind her. It had to have been that perfidious witch. The king had access to her at all times, and Gabrielle herself had warned their little conspiracy against trusting that pagan whore! And now, everything was falling apart like a paper parasol in the rain.

She reached into the armoire that all nuns were allowed to hod her spare clothing and what little grooming supplies they required, and tugged free the leather satchel that was hidden behind the layers of black fabric. She had packed the bag as a precaution, not truly believing that one day she would come to need it, but it contain civilian clothes- a simple homespun dress- some money, and handful of other things that Gabrielle would need to make good her escape. She was too important, and had too much authority for anyone within the cathedral to stop her, all she had to do was make her was to the edge of the grounds, where the ancient, crumbling wall sat low in the earth, change her clothes, and then....

She was startled out of her plans by a hammering upon her door. “Prioress Gabrielle!” came the muffled voice of her supposed superior, Bishop Mathys, “Open this door! King Roland is here, and he demands to see you this instant!”

Garbielle took a moment to compose herself, before returning her satchel to it's hiding place and silently closing the armoire. Things were beginning to look grim, but perhaps there could be some other way out of this. She answered the door, a sweet smile prepared for the fat old bishop, but when she saw the black-armoured giants accompanying him, her look immediately soured.

“What are these pagan brutes doing, standing on holy ground!” she demanded, accusing, “Is it the habit of the church to give in to the demands of a mortal king who surrounds himself with witches and brutes? You know where this path leads, Mathys, if we begin bowing before secular authority, it weakens the church as a whole.”

The Bishop nodded, then turned to one of the royal guards. “Pardon me, sir, but perhaps I could be more convincing if we spoke in private?”

The royal guard seemed to think a moment, then nodded. “That can be allowed. You have five minutes.”

Bishop Mathys pushed himself into Gabrielle's cell, closing the door behind him. At this proximity, Gabrielle couldn't help but wrinkled her nose at the wine on his breath, and the stink of his sweat.

“You've been a thorn in my side for far too long, Gabrielle,” he hissed at her, keeping his voice low, “And how funny, how damned hilarious it is to see you fall on the authority of the church now, when you've been subverting my authority for years! But perhaps, you're right, perhaps it would be best for the church as a whole if we were seen to protect our own. But I would need some... proof of your renewed piety and devotion, if that were to be the case.”

The bishop reached for the belt on his elaborate holy robes and began to undo it, and Gabrielle shook her head. How painfully predictable. She reached out, and slapped the bishop, hard, across the face. “I may be caught, but I still have some pride,” she spat, “You take that sad cock of yours out, and I'll happily bite it off. Perhaps you could attend your holy duties better without it to distract you.”

Mathys returned her sour look, then simply opened the door to the cell. “Forgive me, good sirs, but I could not convince her. She is yours to remove as you see fit.”

The guards moved with an alacrity that belied their massive size, and she was dragged bodily out of her cell, in front of the Bishop and a crowd of her fellow sisters. Rather than fight and scream, embarrassing herself in front of her former peers, Gabrielle instead chose to go limp. She was already forming a plan in her mind, and she would be no easy prey for this arrogant, petty king. He had never experienced the full wrath of the church, and when word reached the Papess it would come down on him with a vengeance. Then Gabrielle would seek out that perfidious little whore of a witch and make her pay, dearly.

Bishop Mathys could not resists giving her a parting shot. “No doubt by your countenance you already know the measure of the charges laid against you,” he said, “The king’s carriage is without. In the next few days I’ll examine the evidence laid against you, but I am a firm believer that secular charges should be dealt with by secular law. Perhaps God will see fit to show you a better way while in King Roland's tender care.”

“Shut your mouth, you fat old whoremonger,” she swore, “God and the Papess will see justice done, and your time will come. Mark my words.”

The bishop’s face darkened. “Perhaps you do not understand,” he told her sternly, “Among your vows to God was one to stay away from the petty realm of secular politics. If you are found guilty, the church will have to side with King Roland against you. And I, for one, do not see the need to trouble Her Holiness the Papess with news of what has transpired here... surely even you wouldn't have manipulated some poor soul into aiding your ambitions by sending a letter on your behalf?”

Gabrielle was fit to spit. “Cross me if you dare, old man,” replied the nun, “But I will be back within days, you just see.”

The royal guards hauled her off, the heels of her shoes clicking on the stones of the cathedral's floor. They dragged her out the front gates, and Gabrielle could only thank God that they had come for her in the dead of night, where the only ones to see her shamed were other sisters. The proud nun didn't know if she could take being hauled off in front of the common folk.

When they reached the royal carriage, a guard was already there to hold the door open for her while her escorts unceremoniously tossed her in like she was a sack of beans. Gabrielle quickly scrambled to her knees, but when she took in the contents of the carriage she was startled.

Lady Desiree and Lady Angeline sat on either of the king, with his arm around either as they looked upon with obvious adoration. The king himself was looking upon Gabrielle with a satisfied smirk, while a brown-haired maid knelt between his knees, pleasuring him with her mouth like a common slut. Gabrielle felts hands fall upon her shoulders, and looked back to see Lady Marie with a sorrowful expression, and with her....

“YOU!” Gabrielle shrieked at the witch Adeline, “I should known better than to trust you, you heathen bitch!” But the witch and Lady Marie together proved more than sufficient to pull the outraged nun back in her seat and hold her in place despite her struggles.

“You don’t understand,” Marie said sadly, shaking her head at Gabrielle in pity. “We all agreed his grace’s lust would be his undoing, but he took all the rope we fed him and used it to capture us all within an eve. He seduced Adeline into making his sex drive into a tool of control, and one by one we all were defeated. It didn’t even take that much to ensnare Lord Oculi- once his grandson had heard of his lord’s betrayal he was eager to help the king deliver him to justice.” Marie looked at King Roland with adoration in her face and voice. “He has bested us all. He is the king. Soon you will see.”

Gabrielle scowled at the obvious ensorcelled Lady Marie. “The church will still punish him for detaining me,” she spat, “Doubly so if I show signs of rape or torture. He’ll not get away with this, fool, and if you help me you can save yourself, Lady Nessane.”

The witch Adeline chuckled darkly. “He has all the evidence he needs, for when the head priest comes to survey the evidence laid against you, he’ll have your full confession, and you’ll bear no signs of torture.”

“If you think I’ll simply sign anything you put before me you-“ she started as the king grunted and tensed, and the maid between his legs moaned lewdly with climax. The witch as well, moaned out a response, smiling lustily at her king. Gabrielle eyed the situation with distaste. Doing such things in front of a sister, never mind the virgin girl, widow and the married lady....

“Katarin, if you please...” King Roland ordered vaguely, and the girl picked herself off the floor of the carriage. That’s when Adeline reached over to take the nun by the shoulders and pin her down, while Marie seized her by the head and chin, attempting to wrench Gabrielle's mouth open. Gabrielle began to panic. “What… what is the meaning of this!?” she demanded.

“You’ll see,” was Lady Marie’s reply as the maid leaned over the nun. Gabrielle was expected some kind of torture or foul sorcery, and was shocked when all the maid did was kiss her on the lips. She was too surprised to resist when the maid's tongue pushed the wad of semen into Gabrielle’s mouth.

The unnatural orgasm that follow shook Gabrielle down to her very soul.

**Kargan3033** · 11-28-2019, 08:18 PM

Nicely done, sort of reminds me of Ker's game Harem but yet this fine story stands on it's own merits, looking forward to seeing what comes next.

**NoMoshing** · 02-20-2020, 02:19 AM

Chapter 7: Colette II

“Thank you both for your hard work tonight, I'm sure His Grace will appreciate it,” Colette told her subordinates with an incline of her head.

The two maids remaining, after King Roland had demanded to take one of them with him while he dealt with traitors within the Capital, curtsied back. “We live to serve His Grace the King, mistress,” murmured the brown-skinned, voluptuous foreigner Leana, unfailingly polite as always, despite the fact that she was a few years older than Colette.

The most junior of the three maids, Cleo, a pretty and slender girl with her strawberry blond hair tucked behind a patterned kerchief who was a lifelong servant in the castle, having been elevated to her position as royal maid from the castle dairy, yawned. “Forgive me for asking, mistress, but why the sudden change of plans, and so late?” she inquired, “I don't mean to complain, but this entire day has been a bit unusual.”

Colette knew exactly what she meant. King Roland's days since taking the throne has been fairly regimented, mornings in the yard for exercise, afternoons and evenings attending to his royal duties, and nights unwinding with one or two of his maids. But since he had met with the witch Adeline that afternoon, King Roland had sent Colette and the other royal maids scrambling.

Three servant's rooms to be cleaned and made up, and all furniture to be removed and placed into storage but the very basics- bed, washstand, and drawers. One of the royal family's suites to be freshly cleaned and turned over, and- this one grated on Colette abominably- to be decorated to the court witch's tastes on the following morning. Then, before leaving, King Roland had demanded one of the lesser royal maids- not Colette- to be whisked off with him. She had sent Katarin along, knowing that the more experienced maids would be needed to get everything done in a timely manner, and so the King, Katarin, the witch, and most of the Veronomigan Guard vanished into the Capital, leaving Colette and her two companions to their work.

Then, after nightfall, one of the giant Guardsmen returned, offering his own apologies before passing on the King's order to prepare yet another room, another of the royal family's personal rooms, and be ready to receive a delivery of furniture on the morrow! And cleaning out and freshening all these rooms, some of which had gone untouched for years, was all on top of their normal workload. In short, the three maids had been working themselves to the bone since mid-afternoon, and only now, after midnight, were they able to finally wrap up the day's business.

“It is not for us to question His Grace,” Colette replied, “He states his requirements, and we fulfill them. I don't know quite why we've been asked to do so much, but please trust that if this workload persists I'll insist on bringing on a few more girls.”

Leana's face grew a slow, wicked smile. “I shouldn't mind a few extra hands, mistress, provided we are given seniority when it comes to serving His Grace directly.”
Colette sighed with annoyance. “Serve His Grave well and I'm sure he'll call upon you much more often than other maids,” she replied, “I'll keep in mind what you're asking for if the King happens to be unspecific. Until then....”

She was interrupted by the distant clatter of the Castle portcullis slamming shut. They all knew what that meant- the King had returned. “Leane, prepare His Grace's study- set the fire, fluff his chair, you know what to do,” Colette ordered, “Cleo, down to the kitchen and fetch His Grace's favourite spiced wine. Be sure to wake the taster and give him his cup before returning, and do not dally.” Fortunately for Colette, these two were very well trained by this point, and hardly needed the orders, already in motion. She could trust that they'd perform their duties appropriately.

As for herself, Colette walked briskly to the entrance to the central keep. If His Grace required anything else, Colette intended to be there to receive his orders... and she would be able to confirm firsthand that her beloved King was safe, and perhaps finally get some answers.
Colette was waiting in the antechamber when the great hall doors lurched open. First came the expected squad of royal guards... but, Colette was surprised to see, one of them had lead in three women. At least Colette thought they all where women- two had fine dresses on that accentuated their feminine figures, but the third was wearing some kind of heavy black robe that the maid couldn't quite identify. All three had burlap sacks pulled over their heads, obscuring their faces, and where bound and leashed by the wrists, being lead by one of the massive guardsmen.
Abruptly Colette realized that the large ring on one of the lady's hands was actually a heavy golden signet ring, bearing the three trees of House Nessane. She hesitated, the realizing dawning on her that one of these women- the king's prisoners, crudely bound and hooded like a common criminal- was the high lady of one of the Capital's noble houses. Before she could comprehend the full implications of this, the hulking guard gave her a half bow. “I see you, Lady Colette,” he intoned in a deep, growling baritone.

Colette refocused on the moment, taking the time to offer the guard a matching curtsy. “I see you, Grieger son of Garth,” she replied. The Veronomigan's way of greeting each other always seemed odd to Colette- who could possibly overlook an eight foot tall man in full mail?- but she never said so to their faces. The giant guardsmen always treated her with respect, in spite of how they normally treated women, and she always sought to pay them back in kind.

“His Majesty would like you to see his new acquisitions to the rooms prepared for them among the royal apartments,” Grieger said, “I am to help you control them, in case they get out of hand.”

She regarded the prisoners for a moment. They seemed quiet enough at the moment, waiting obediently in their bondage. Colette nodded, beckoning the huge man to follow as she lead him deeper into the keep. “The king is otherwise occupied, I take it?”

“He is dealing with his other hostage and his witch at the moment,” Grieger replied, following, “Trust that he is well, Lady Colette. Better to be expected, I would think.”

Colette frowned. “How do you mean?”

The hulking guard had a deep chuckle. “Well, His Grace has been enjoying his hostages, like a conqueror should. I did not expect he had it in him, but...”

Colette felt her scowl deepen on her face. She did not need to have it spelled out to her that her King was fucking his hostages. “I see. Well, it is not for us to question His Grace's will.”

“Of course, Lady Colette.”

The rest of the ascent to the royal apartments occurred in silence, until Colette nodded to the two other guards standing watch at the main stairwell, and opened the door for Grieger and his charges. “Mind your head,” Colette reminded gently.

The giant man murmured his thanks, and he bent down to clear the doorframe. From there, it was only a short walk to the servant rooms that had been prepared.

The first room, Colette pushed the lady in pink silks into, and removed her hood to see the slightly dazed face of Desiree Amrien, one of the court ladies who frequently the social events put on by the former King. She had a crude cloth gag on, and appeared frightened out of her wits. Colette regarded her coldly- she certainly had no love for the grasping sluts of noble society- and took the time to strip her of her hairpins and jewels before removing the blonde noblewoman's bonds. Colette weasn't merely looting the poor woman, but seeking out anything that might be used by a desperate prisoner to effect an escape or injure herself... although the look of humiliation on Desiree's face was very sweet to the maid.

“Please, you have to help me,” Desiree begged, “His Majesty... he put me under some kind of sorcery! I wouldn't do those... things, normally! Please!”

Colette simply shut the door in her face and locked it.

Next was the other noble lady, who did indeed turn out to be Lady Marie, the dowager of House Nessane. Lady Marie was too proud to beg, and didn't say anything- simply let Colette strip her of jewellery and release with bonds with barely a reaction, save for a momentary tightening of the fists when Colette took away her signet ring.

That particular piece, Colette slipped into a pocket in her apron. House signets were more than mere adornments, or even seals- the bearer of such a ring functionally had control over all the house's holdings, provided they had a pen to write and wax for the seal. If the dowager lady was here as a prisoner, then King Roland would be very interested in the fate of that ring.

After locking away Lady Marie, then came the last woman, the one draped in black. Colette was surprised, when she removed the woman's hood, to see that she was a nun. Just to be sure, Colette examined her for jewellery, although there was none to be found. For the most part, she seemed submissive, but when Colette finally released her bonds....

Shrieking like a harpy, the nun launched herself at Colette. Whether she was grasping at the maid's face, for eyes or ears or hair, Colette would never know. A strong hand took Colette by the waist and yanked her back, the nun's fingers slicing through the air barely an inch in front of her face.

Greiger pulled Colette fully out of the room, before seizing the nun and bodily tossing her upon the bed. While the nun attempted to recover and launch another attack, Grieger was able to step back and slam the door shut, cutting off the nun's shrieks. As Colette shook herself out of her stunned state and swiftly locked the door, the nun could be heard pounding on it, screaming “You're all going to hell, you hear me!? You're all damned!”

Colette collapsed back against the smooth stonework wall of the hallway, her heart pounding in her ears. For a moment she found herself nervously swallowing, her throat dry as a bone in an instant. She had never been attacked like that before, with that sudden vicious fury. Again, she found herself bewildered at her King's choice of... guests? Prisoners? Hostages?
“Are you alright, Lady Colette?” Greiger asked, looking her over with a concerned expression, “His Majesty would not have it if you were harmed.”

“I'm alright, thank you,” she said, quietly, then realized she was twisting the apron of her uniform with white-knuckled hands, and forced herself to relax. “I should go inform His Grace that his... guests... are seen to. I trust you can show yourself out, Grieger son of Garth?”

“Aye, Lady Colette.”

“Then, return to your duties,” she said, bobbing in a brief curtsy, “And... thank you. I shall see to it that His Grace knows of your intervention.”

“It is no matter, Lady Colette,” was the giant's only reply before he ducked his way back out to the stairwell.

Finally free of her own duties, Colette eagerly headed towards her King's study. She had been denied her place at His side all evening, and needed his presence now more than ever.

The King's study was remarkably simple compared to what one might expect. Not far from the royal bedchambers, it was a warm an inviting place, with thick carpets, a large fireplace, and a wall of bookshelves housing a goodly portion of the palace's library. The focal point of the room was a velvet chaise-lounge which, at the moment, held an exhausted King Roland. He sat at the edge of it, glass of dark caramel liquor held loosely in one hand, while the other ran over his eyes. It was such a private, vulnerable moment that Colette's heart swelled, seeing her King with his regal facade stripped away.

“Ah, Colette,” he said when he noticed her, “You should have knocked.”

Colette swept her eyes down to the floor, shaking her head. In her eagerness to return to His Majesty's presence, she had forgotten propriety. “Forgive me, Your Grace,” she said quietly, “I was merely hoping to see if there was anything else you required.”

“No, thank you,” King Roland replied, taking a sip of his drink, “You've already done so much, today, accommodating my orders. I trust situating the... hostages... went well?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” she said, delicately approaching him with downcast eyes. “Does something trouble you, my King? You seem....”

King Roland dismissed her concern with a gesture. “I am alright. It has been a long day, with many risks and a few surprises. If certain people had not cooperated, or if the effects of that potion had been anything else....” He trailed off, keeping his darker thoughts to himself.
Colette knelt delicately before her King, lifting her skirt to settle it on the ground. “Does my King require my assistance in relaxing himself?”

King Roland chuckled. “No, I've 'relaxed' aplenty today. Truth be told, I should probably see my way to rest. Tomorrow will be a long day, with a great deal of changes.”

“If Your Grace wishes it, yes,” Colette whispered in a soft, breathy voice, crawling her way under the her King's Slouched posture to boldy rub her cheek against her King's crotch, not unlike a cat seeking attention. “But I know Your Grace also sleeps better if he has a chance to empty his seed before bed.”
Her King paused a moment, considering, before he leaned back on the couch. He was wearing his regal facade once more, but Colette had also served his needs enough to understand his implied assent. Delicately, she found the laces to her King's breeches, and took one end in her teeth, tugging them open softly when her King's hand grasped her by the chin, and gently pushed her away.

“No,” he said simply, “Send me Leana.”

Jealousy and outrage stabbed a cold knife into Colette chest, and she looked down a moment, hiding her expression until she could bring herself under control. Without daring to look at her beloved King, she rose and offered a deep curtsy. “As you wish, Your Grace,” she managed without sobbing, and backed out of the room.

Out in the hall, Colette took the time to compose herself. She was chief of His Grace's maids, and it would not do to show weakness, especially in front of a girl who was the closest thing to a “rival” Colette had in the small, insular world of the palace. She was many things that Colette herself was not- exotic, mysterious, and charming. For the King to pass over her for that... dark-skinned foreign tart galled her. As the head maid strode away from the study, seeking out the other girl, every step seemed to fill her with rage.

She found Leana exiting one of the royal suites, a neatly folded green silk dress bound up in her arms. “His Grace requires you,” Colette instructed tersely, unable to keep the venom out of her voice.

A slow smile grew across Leana's features. She did a brief, one-handed curtsy. “Thank you, Lady Colette, I shall attend to him right away,” she purred in a voice as soft and sweet as honey poured on silk, “Won't you please take Lady Angeline's dress off my hands, then? She asked for the garment to be washed, but I must go to His Grace's side right away.”
Angrily, Colette snatched the dress away, her foul mood only vaguely disturbed by her wonder of who exactly “Lady Angeline” was and why was she being treated as a royal guest. As swiftly as she could, Colette disposed of the dress, seething all the while. Things in the inner sanctum of the palace were changing rapidly, and a desperate, lonely part of her soul told Colette that she wasn't as irreplaceable as she told herself. She shook her head at that thought, as if she could shake free the dark thoughts from her mind. It was an exhausting day, she reminded herself, and her soul might feel somewhat more settled after a good night's rest.

Colette intended to go straight to bed, but her path from the linens room, where the laundry bins were kept, to her own bedroom went by the King's study. The sound of voices from within gave her pause, and in the dim hall she could see the light of the fireplace outlining the door to the study with a warm glow. What was that trollop up to with her King...? Cursing herself for a fool, Colette knelt in the hallway, and raised her eye to the dim ember of the keyhole.

King Roland was resting back on the chaise-lounge, with Leana sitting on his lap like a common tavern wench, one of her arms cradling His Grace's neck. The maid took a long pull of the King's liquor before setting aside the glass, and, mouth closed tight, leaned over and gave the King a long, deep kiss.
“Very refreshing, just as you promised,” King Roland said playfully once their embrace was broken.
“Brandy is just the thing to warm an exhausted heart, Your Grace,” Leana replied, her free hand resting on the King's broad chest, “Although I hope my choice of goblet was pleasing to you.”

“I have no complaints,” the King said with a sigh.

“May I suggest another capacity in which I may serve Your Majesty?” Leana asked seductively, toying with the King's lapel.

“Certainly,” His Grace replied, taking her gently by the wrist, “But, first... do you desire to serve me, and only me, for all the rest of your days?”
“Of course, Your Grace,” she purred, “Nothing could possibly be better.”
“Not even marriage, to a man who you could call your own?”

“What man in all of the world could compare to you, Your Grace? I only weep for the day when I grow too old to warm your bed.”

“Even if I disgrace you with bastard after bastard, and all the kingdom knows you to be a whore and tramp?”

“To be a whore for a King is a badge I will wear with pride, Your Grace,” she said, easing off his lap and taking back her arms, “And any woman should be honoured to be graced with your royal seed.” She began unlacing his breeches. “As for the other, yes... bastards carry the sin of their conception in their hearts, it is said, so if bastards are to be my fate, then I will bear you as many wicked bastards as you like, who will grow up strong and cruel and serve their trueborn brother as his dark knights. So, disgrace me, Your Majesty, and I will bear it as a blessing.”
Colette could not say why she knelt there, arrested by what she saw through the keyhole. Some sick, reptilian emotion, her love for her King twisted about with jealousy and outrage and shame and the perverse voyeur thrill of watching Leana as she pulled the royal cock free from his smallclothes and delicately guided it to her sex... it held her there, helpless, to watch what was about to occur. She knew the King slept with his maids, had fucked the witch and his prisoners, and that had not bothered, but some how her King's rejection gave this act some sweet, sharp, terrible edge that penetrated her thoroughly.

As Leana began to ride the royal cock, she sighed sensuously. “Oh, yes, Your Grace, fuck your bastard into me...” she moaned, hands cupping her sizerable breasts and tweaking her nipples through the fabric of her uniform. King Roland, for his part, was wrapped up in the vision of his dusky maid pleasuring herself on his hard rod.

As Colette watched their coupling, her hands went, unbidden, to the cleft of her thighs, teasing at her sex subconsciously. When she realized what she was doing, Colette forced herself to stop, but found that her need was growing out of control. She gathered up a double fistful of her skirts to squeeze, in order to distract herself from her desire, but it was futile. The sickly sweet feeling of watching her beloved King fucking another woman after rejecting her had her completed entranced. Colette lifted her skirt up to her mouth and bit down on the fabric, hoping it would be enough to stifle her cries, then began to savagely bear down on her sex. She sought out the sensitive little nubbin between her labia and rubbed at it with a desperate frenzy. Her eyes glued to the scene before her, Colette lost herself in the roil of pleasure and emotions, and it seemed to her that the three of them, Leana, the King and herself climaxed together, Leana's moans loud enough to drown out Colette's whimpers of pleasure.

When Colette came to, she realized the study was empty, the firelight having gradually dimmed from being unattended. The power of her orgasm combined with her exhaustion to cause her to pass out, and meanwhile her King had gone through the other door in his study, taking Leana to his bedchambers to continue their tryst.

As Colette went stumbling down the hall to her own room, she found herself feeling lost and confused. What had come over her? What did all these sudden changes mean?
And when the changes stopped and things settled down again, what would happen to her comfortable little world?

**NoMoshing** · 05-10-2020, 11:31 AM

Master of the Kingdom: Angeline I

The royal apartments of the castle were built to be fully enclosed, with the only access coming from the grand stairway (which was guarded by the fearsome Veronomigan Guard) and the throne room (which, itself, only had one entrance which was also under guard). Being so self-contained, the apartments themselves were built around an internal staircase that provided access to three levels- the bottom being primarily servant's quarters, the middle having both larger suites and several functional rooms, including a library, and the top having the suites for the king's direct family. The view from some of the outward-facing rooms was breathtaking, revealing a world cloaked in fog, seeming to sparkle as it slowly faded in the bright morning sunlight.

On the way across from the stairway on the middle level, where nobody on any business of real importance in the royal apartments could miss it, was a large slate chalkboard, as tall as a man and as wide as his shoulders. It was a list of names and rankings. Written at the very top, one above the other were "Princess Consort" and "Concubines", although both entries were otherwise blank. Below that was "Head Maid: Colette", followed by "Maids: Katarin, Leana, Cleo". At the very bottom of the list were two further entries, "Whores: Desiree", and then "Trash: Gabrielle, Marie".

The implication of the chalkboard was clear- anyone could move up these rankings... and anyone could drop down.

Angeline has discovered all of this in her explorations this morning. She did not fully recall the events of the previous night- most of it was cloaked in a sort of warm, fuzzy haze. What little she did recall was that she was undergoing her studies when the king's massive guardsmen took control of her mother's estate and seized her. She was brought to her mother's bedroom, and there... things began getting cloudy. She had the shameful, albeit dim, memory of performing lewd acts with King Roland, with her mother watching, and then a carriage ride in the moonlight. Because Angeline woke up in the royal apartments she supposed those events must be true to some degree, but the memories themselves were as ephemeral as dreams.

Angeline had woken up in a large bed, in a sparsely decorated but grandly sized room- large enough to eclipse her room at her mother's estate, at least. Attached to it, she had her own privy and bath, as well as a more modest sitting room. Awaiting her pleasure in the sitting room was a slender, blue-eyed maid only a few years Angeline's senior who introduced herself as Cleo, and offered to arrange for Angeline to break her fast. After the maid had helped Angeline dress and scurried off to fetch the meal, the younger lady had taken the opportunity to slip outside of her rooms and explore this strange new place she had found herself in.

Which had led her to the slate, and it's mysterious list of names- including her mother's, and Cleo's, but, strangely, not her own.

Angeline against struggled to recall what happened with her mother the previous night, although the fragments- an image of her mother's face covered in some kind of white syrup, a musky, salty odor, and the feeling of the king's hot breath on her neck- caused her to rub her thighs together in response to some poorly understood need that seemed to swim inside her, just under the surface of her subconscious.

It was also so confusing for the poor young girl. She knew what lovemaking was... but it wasn't supposed to involve your mother. At least, not directly. But the fragments of the previous night gave her these strange thrills.

A strange suspicion reared itself in Angeline. She hurried back to her room, wondering- hoping?- what she might find if she were to lie back in bed and sink her fingers into her moist blossom. What would they find? The same familiar sensations? Or...?

No, she thought has her fingers explored her sex, nothing felt out of place or different. To be sure Angeline didn't quite know what she was feeling for. She had only assumed that losing her virginity would make her feel different- at least, that's how everyone acted about it.

Was it all a dream?

What did turn out to be different was her own self control. As Angeline pondered her fragmented memories, she idly rubbed at the petals of her flower, moaning huskily at the sensation. Abruptly, she realized what she was doing, and- with great reluctance- pulled her hand away. She had masturbated in the past, but had been too shy and nervous about that lewd act to allow herself to become fully absorbed in the sensation. Now, it seemed, it took a measure of control not to masturbate without even realizing it, and it was only with difficulty that she managed to stop.

To stop her hands from straying again, Angeline smoothed out her skirts and rose. Cleo had dropped off her breakfast- a fresh heel of bread, a plate of grapes and apple slices, a small pot of honey and a bowl of steaming potato chunks topped with bacon. It was probably more than she could handle, but this must be what it's like to live like royalty. She nibbled on some fruit and enjoyed a chunk of honeyed bread, while she struggled to make sense of the situation.

When Cleo returned to take the plates away, the fruit and bread were all gone and Angeline was eyeing the bacon like a princess might regard a possibly poisoned apple. Luckily, the maid had provided a new distracted. "Please, take this all away, Cleo."

"Of course, My Lady," the maid replied, bobbing a curtsy, "Right away."

Angeline looked with some misgivings at the steaming remains of her breakfast being taken away, but then blinked and sat up straight. Here was a golden opportunity to get more information, and it was slipping between her fingers!

"Ah, Cleo."

"Yes, Lady Angeline?"

"Um... would His Grace be available to speak with me? I have some questions about my, ah... presence here."

"Of course, My Lady," Cleo replied as she carefully arranged the used dishes on her tray, "His Grace has ordered me to see My Lady into his presence as soon as she asked. Please, when My Lady is ready."

Leaving the dishes, Cleo led Angeline down the stairs to one of the function rooms, a simple private audience room with a lesser version of the throne on a raised dais, a few chairs for petitioners to use, and a fireplace with a small, welcoming blaze working. King Roland was facing out a massive bay window, while the subject of the audience, a fat older man in the grey robes of a priest, spoke to him. On either side of the door were a decided odd couple- to Angeline's right, one of the massive royal guardsmen, and to her left, a maid, only slightly older than Angeline herself, with pale hair.

As the door clicked shut behind her, Angeline could begin to make out what the fat old priest was saying. “This comes as a great surprise to me, King Roland,” he said, carefully examining an unfurled parchment in his wizened hands, “Of course, I’ll need to examine the Sister for signs of torture and magical manipulation.”

“Of course,” replied the king, without looking away from his vista, “She will be made available to you within the day. But, first, a gift for you, as thanks for your assistance in this matter of justice. Your moral rectitude and sterling example is an inspiration to us all, Bishop Mathys, and I look forward to seeking your spiritual counsel in such matters in the future."

The pale-haired maid stepped forward, and proffered a silver tray, on which was a small pouch, stuffed full to bursting. With a shaky hand, the Bishop took the pouch, losing his grip at first so that Angeline could hear the sound of metal on metal when it hit the tray. Eventually the old man took up the pouch with two hands, and it vanished into the sleeve of his holy robe.

"You honour me, Your Grace," he said, inclining his head, "Such a gift will stoke the zeal of our, ah, moral rectitude. Thank you."

"Please, though, inform Her Holiness or her duly appointed representative that even if the testimony of Madame Nessane and Lord Amrien are disregarded, I no longer desire Sister Gabrielle’s presence in my capital, await her replacement to to tend to the devotion of the people.”

The Bishop nodded eagerly. “A state of affairs I can understand, for certain. I’ll communicate with the holy city immediately," the fat old man looked over his shoulder, and seeing, Angeline, paled somewhat. "I see your, ah, breakfast guest has arrived, Your Grace. It it pleases you, God's work shall not wait.”

"Of course, Bishop Mathys, please forgive me for taking up so much of your time."

The fat old man adjusted his robed, jingling slightly, and made a quick bow before retreating from the room. The giant guardsman left after him, shutting the door behind them both. Angeline noted that at some point Cleo had also vanished as well.

King Roland spoke. "I should know his weaknesses. I have gold aplenty, but a man like that... I have need of a stick to correct him with should the carrot fail." He shook his head. "To think how much I would give for a decent spymaster... Or anyone of real skill I could trust, for that matter."

"Perhaps Leana, if it pleases Your Grace," the pale-haired maid suggested, "With her out of uniform, and with that dark skin of hers, many would take her for a foreign spy. She could gild a few palms along Lantern Street, find out what vices the good Bishop might have."

"That is the best tool at hand, then? Make it happen. And tell her to be careful."

"Of course, Your Grace." The maid bowed deeply to her King, and briefly to Angeline, before withdrawing. Leaving the two of them alone.

Finally the King tore himself away from his view, and smiled warmly at Angeline. He gestured to a chair. "Please, my Lady, have a seat. I pleased to see you."

Angeline felt a warm flush growing in her cheeks. “Of course, Your Grace,” she replied as she sat, “Forgive for interrupting your important business, but I require some… clarification on last night’s events.”
The King lowered himself into the high seat. "I see. I would be happy to provide some answers, that might make things somewhat more understandable. It might be difficult to hear, however."

Angeline nodded, folding her hands in her lap. "If it pleases Your Grace. I should not desire happy ignorance over stark truth."

King Roland nodded back. "First of all, your mother, Lord Amrien, Lord Oculi, and the former Prioress Gabrielle had formed a conspiracy against me. My personal witch was part of it. And you would have had your own part, in time, it seems.”

“My own part?” Angeline gasped with surprise, “But, Your Grace, I was raised me to be dutiful and true to the royal family. I wouldn't dare....”

“I do not doubt you, Lady Angeline,” the king said amicably as he watched her reaction. “The witch was meant to control me from between my sheets. And in time, once her influence was firmly established, they would put you in my bed as well, a pretty little queen to keep me docile.”

Angeline's face was aflame with embarrassment. “I… I wasn’t told any of that, Your Grace.”

“Of course not,” he replied, “Your mother didn’t trust you fully.”

“I... see,” she said softly, heart racing. Was she really intended to be a queen? Angeline had always thought it unusual that her betrothal hadn't already been arranged. “As for the… other things I seem to remember….”

King Roland gave her a wicked smile. “Yes, that was quite a night. First, I ravished Lady Amrien before her husband, to shame him into obedience,”

Angeline felt her blush deepen, if that was possible.

“Then, I took both you and your mother… and then, had Adeline use her mouth to bring me to climax and feed it to Sister Gabrielle. Is that what you’re referring to?”

“Yes, your grace,” replied Angeline, feeling red from tip to tail, She has no idea that she had taken part in such depravities. “That.”

King Roland merely shrugged. “I am a man with appetites. I simply have found a way to turn those appetites into advantages.”

“O-oh," Angeline replied, "I-I see...."

“Thanks to that witch, my seed now inspires obedience in others,” the King explained, “She had thought to keep an antidote for herself and use that fact to turn the situation against me, but did not realize that I already suspected her. I intend to keep Lady Amrien, Sister Gabrielle and your mother as my personal... guests, to let others know the price of betrayal and ensure the loyalty of what remains of their houses.”

“Magic, then? I suppose that makes... some sense, given how foggy my head has been," Angeline allowed, thoughtfully. Sorcery was a topic completely unknown to her, but considering the situation she was in.... "And what of me, Your Grace? You have already... had your way with me."

"Yes," the King replied with a heavy sigh. "The extent to which you have been exposed to my new power is still reversible. I cannot give you your maidenhead back, but in time your urge to be obedient to me will fade, if it has not already. However...."

"However?"

"Your household guard has been absorbed into the royal army. Your house's assets have been seized for the royal treasury. With your house extinct in the male line, there is little that can be gained from maintaining House Nessane as an entity, except to use your hand in marriage as a trophy to be given away, but as of right now I have no need of that, and I have need of soldiers and incomes," the King examined her carefully, "But, you appear to be entirely innocent of being a willing part of this conspiracy. So I give you a choice.

"If you value your freedom, you may depart. I will grant you a small amount of coin, and release a few of your former servants and guards into your employ. You may then seek whatever fortune you wish- seeking shelter with your mother's relations, join the Priory, seek marriage on your own, whatever you please. However, I would no count on your servants' loyalty to remain firm when your coin runs out, and they may try to take advantage of you without it. A noble house is a fine thing, but without incomes, lands, and reputation, a name can only do so much to protect you."

Angeline felt the blood run out of her cheeks. "That doesn't seem like much of an option, Your Grace...."

"Your other option may not be more pleasant, depending on your disposition," he replied, "You are beautiful and charming, Lady Angeline. Although you are young, in time you may learn skills that become useful to me." He offered her an outstretched hand. "If you choose, you may remain here as my concubine. I cannot marry you, for that is a political tool I cannot give away easily, but you will be fed, clothed to my liking, and as safe as I can make you. You will have servants to tend to your needs, and in time you may have responsibilities to occupy your time."

Angeline's eyes widened. "That sounds... but... concubine?"

"Yes," the King said calmly, fixing her with his gaze, "Your primary duty will be to attend to my pleasures, and, because of the enchantment placed upon me, your love and absolute obedience will inevitably become mine. Some will call that a gilded cage, but there it is."

Angeline looked at her hands. Her thoughts felt so confused. Her entire life, all she'd ever known, had fallen apart overnight. As soon as word got around of what happened to the other noble houses, her name would be forever tarnished, and she could not prove her purity to anyone seeking to marry her. Her mother had kept Angeline sheltered and safe and carefully tended to, not unlike one of the garden roses, but that had left her with no skills or direction in her mother's absence. So, in the question of safety or freedom....

Angeline rose from the table and moved to kneel before her King. She took his hand in both of hers and looked up at him. “You took my virgin flower, Your Grace,” she said, looking up at his cold grey eyes. “I have always been taught I should commit myself, fully, to the man who claimed me. That man is you, my King.”

King Roland looked down at her, a small, amused smile on his face. “My seed, though… you will be compelled to obey me. I cannot make that any more clear.”

“Am I compelled now? I do not think so,” She raised his heavy palm to her cheek and nuzzled it gently. “This is something I want. If I will be compelled to obedience, however, I simply ask that you guide me well and use me gently, for I am depending on you for everything. And, well....”

“Well?" her King asked in response.

“If I am not to marry, then, please, Your Grace, if my... ministrations should leave me with child," It was a difficult thought for Angeline to grapple with, "Please allow our child a chance to rebuild House Nessane in time, your loyal servant.”

“Very well," King Roland agreed, stroking her cheek gently, "Lady Angeline Nessane, I promise you that I will take care of your and use you gently, and give any fruit of our coupling the chance to rebuild your house. You will be allowed to keep your room and treat it as your home, and make use of the royal apartments as you please.” The King went silent, in deep thought. “Please, make use of young Cleo as your personal servant. A lady should have a maid to see to her needs, and it will be easier to find your way about with a guide.”

"Thank you, Your Grace," Angeline said softly, struggling to hold back tears. Part of her regretted this decision, but she could see no better option available to her.

"Excellent, she should be standing without."

The King began to rise from his seat, leaving Angeline kneeling awkwardly on the dais. "Uh, Y-your Grace? Where are you going?"

"My morning exercise awaits in the yard," he said simply, as he headed for the door, "I do not idea my debaucheries to get the better of my physical fitness, especially with such an unruly kingdom to get under control."

"B-but, uh..." Angeline was at a total loss.

"Yes? Do you object?" he asked simply, turning back to face her.

Angeline's face burned again. "I-I-I merely thought that... well, with our, um... new relationship, that there would be more of a...."

The king smiled his wicked grin. "My lady, are you asking that we consummate our new relationship?"

"Well, I had not thought to put it quite that way...."

The king's smile softened, as if amused, then dropped completely. "Unfortunately... I cannot." He shook his head. "At least, not until tonight at the minimum. There could be repercussions to allowing the spell to unfold too swiftly, and I should hate to damage you, my lady."

Angeline looked down at her hands, blushing. "That... if you feel that is best, Your Grace."

"But, perhaps... perhaps there is something we can do, if you are inclined to do something more unorthodox."

What could he possibly mean by that? Angeline thought. She bit her lip thought fully. "Well... if you think there is some way I could serve you, I'd be happy to, Your Grace."

King Roland took Lady Angeline's hand, and lead her out of the small audience chamber. Cleo the maid was standing across the hall from the door, awaiting the King's pleasure.

"Cleo," King Roland said softly, releasing Lady Angeline's hand to stroke the maid's cheek. "How long have you served in the castle?"

"All my life, Your Grace," she answered obediently, gazing up at him in a way that was somehow both innocent and naughty.

"And do you promise to serve me, in any way that I ask, for all your life?"

The maid's eyes flicked over to Angeline briefly. "Your Grace... should you not attend to your guest...?"

"Answer the question, Cleo."

Now she cast her eyes down, demurely. "Of course... d-do I now already serve you in any way you desire, Your Grace?"

"Good," the King replied with a smile, "Then come, let us all return to my chambers, there is something I wish to show you both."

The King's personal chambers were as large and luxurious as Angeline expected from the finery on display elsewhere. After passing through a relatively small and surprisingly spartan study, the next room was an oversized chamber, lit only by a variety of oil lamps lining the walls. There was a large hearth before which was spread a soft foreign rug, and in addition to the normal accoutrements Angeline would expect in a bedroom, there was also a variety of furnishings, pushed against the walls and draped over in cloth, whose purpose she could only guess at. For some reason, there was a throne here, as well, and well-stocked with pillows. The royal bed itself was almost an absurdity, easily large enough for two full grown men to lie on with arms outstretched, and barely meet their fingers in the middle... but somehow, in the presence of the larger-than-life king, the entire room didn't seem quite so oversized.

"Cleo, bring me the shackles," the King demanded.

"At once, Your Grace." The pretty little maid went to a chest at the foot of the bed, and began pulling some heavy-looking chains from it.

"Please, Angeline," The King gestured towards the bed, "Rest at your ease."

"Wh-what do you want me to do, Your Grace?" she replied, eyeing the chains uneasily.

"Whatever comes naturally to you."

As Angeline crawled onto the bed, Cleo rose and offered her king and armload of chains, not unlike what you'd expect to see in a dungeon. The King pawed through them until he found a specific part- a length where one link was painted a dull yellow- and reached up and hooked that specific link onto a hook embedded in the ceiling just before the bed. As he straightened the chains hanging there, Angeline could see that a bar was incorporated into it, creating a triangular hanger not unlike you saw holding up tapestries.
Then, much to Angeline's surprise, he took the maid's arms and slipped some kind of padded bracelet onto her wrist, before latching one of the heavy iron cuffs around it, and turned a butterfly screw until her wrist was firmly locked in place.

Obediently, as if she had done this before, Cleo offered up her other wrist, and the King locked it securely into place as the first one. Then, King Roland ratcheted a small mechanism on the upper part of the chain, lifting the poor maid so that she rose on her tiptoes and gasped at the strain.

"Can you endure that discomfort, my little maid?" the King softly asked while stroking the maid's slender neck.

"For you, I could endure anything, Your Grace," Cleo gasped back, face burning with embarrassment. Despite the outlandish scene, it seemed surprisingly intimate to Angeline. The young girl, completely at her master's mercy, which he doted on her. She could feel a familiar, hot sensation between her legs, and shifted uncomfortably on the bed.

King Roland began to run his hands over the helpless body of his maid, starting with Cleo's arms, running along her skin down to her sides, before running up to cup her breasts. As he pinched at her nipples through the fabric of her uniform, the maid gasped and squirmed., As he teased the poor maid, the King was looking directly at Angeline, through the V formed by Cleo's upraised arm and neck, and Angeline felt her face flush.

After some teasing, King Roland released the maid from his hands if not her bonds, and began slipping out of his own clothing. Angeline watched as the King stripped away layers of formal courtly clothing to reveal a finely muscled, well cared for body. When he slip off his smallclothes, revealing the heavy royal cock, the young girl gasped to see it, and blushed all the harder. And it was then that she finally realized what the King had intended her to do.

As the Kin returned to his teasing of the poor maid, Angeline settled back into the pillows, rolling up her skirt and then, ever so slowly easing off her her underwear. The entire time, the King's gaze held her eyes, as he caressed and pinched and squeezed the poor, gasping Cleo. When Angeline's fingers finally found her wet and steaming sex, the King had finally reached up under the maid's skirts and, with a quick tug, ripped the crotch out of her tights, leaving Cleo's own sex exposed.

Suddenly, the King grabbed a fistful of Cleo's hair, twisting it tight in his grip and causing the maid to moan and lean back.

"Look at Lady Angeline, you wanton slut," King Roland commanded.

It was difficult with her head at that angle, but Cleo complied, looking down at the masturbating young women with eyes half-lidded in ecstasy.

"From now on, until I tell you otherwise, you serve Lady Angeline as her personal maid."

"Yes, Your Grace," she gasped desperately.

"You will see her fed and bathed, shave and clothe her to my liking, and in those respects you serve me, do you understand?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

"Anything else she asks of you, any humiliating or depraved thing she requires, you will do it. The sole exceptions being that you will permanently mar any of my women, you will not bring any of my women to harm, and you will not allow another man's cock anywhere near one of my women. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

Angeline was already stroking the lips of her sex and playing with that sweet bud at their apex with vigor, but somehow found it in her to press a little harder, stroke a little faster.

"So if Lady Angeline lifts up her leg and orders you to lick the sole of her foot, what will you do?"

"I will obey my mistress, just like a good maid, Your Grace."

"Good." The King released her hair, and the maid slumped in her bonds. "How would you like to be used today, my sweet little slut?"

"Oh, Your Grace," the maid moaned, "Please... use my ass as your plaything."

The King stepped around the suspended maid, just long enough to fetch a glass bottle from the chest, and begin rubbing some kind of clear oil onto the heavy royal cock. Angeline had not heard of such an act before, wouldn't it be filthy? But as the King lifted one of the maid's legs high into the air to open up her most sensitive places, Angeline could see that the tiny rosebud of the maid's ass, clean, pink and fresh. Angeline's own fingers brushed against her own rosebud experimentally, but it seemed not very sensitive in comparison... perhaps it was an acquired taste?

Holding Cleo's leg up with one hand, the King eased his cock into her with the other, the slick, well-oiled member disappearing inside the maid as she groaned and writhed helplessly. King Roland took his time, easing it into her, inch by glistening inch. For the final part, he reach up and loosened the chain, lowering the poor maid the last few inches to impale herself on his cock.

Finally, the King lifted Cleo's other leg, so she was hoisted in air, feet off the ground, dangling by her wrists while the King held her by the thighs, legs spread open lewdly so that, in spite of her frilly maid skirt, Angeline had a full view of the maid's sex and where the royal cock had penetrated deep into the maid's ass.

After all the foreplay, the maid poor maid did not last long before she was moaning in response to the rough fucking that her King was subjecting her to. Rather than thrusting, he simply bounced the maid's whole body on the length of his cock, using the maid as a living sex toy. Angeline simply watched, hungrily. All thoughts of propriety and embarrassment had left her, and she was filled with an animal desire for her King. As he fucked the maid, Angeline longed for King Roland to penetrate her too, to claim her, but she was also too absorbed in giving herself pleasure to even so much as beg for the King's attention.

Suddenly, Angeline couldn’t take it anymore. The heat of her sex and the electricity of the moment was too much to bear. She came with a moaning howl, her body trembling as the orgasm washed through her. But still she forced her eyes open, watching her King as he fucked his maid in the ass. Cleo wasn’t far behind her new mistress, flailing and moaning as she climaxed, and soon after the King grit his own teeth and grunted as a frothy mixture of semen and oil bubbled up from where she and the King were connected. His orgasm somehow seemed to set Cleo off even more, and her climax intensified into a writhing, wild ecstasy.

Angeline felt exhausted. She was only dimly aware of the king releasing his maid from her bondage and flinging the poor girl down on the bed next to Angeline. "That was a pleasant diversion," Angeline heard the King say with a chuckle, and turned back to the door, fully naked.

"Your Grace, please..." Angeline murmured, pushing herself up off the bed with an effort, but her King was already gone, calling for another maid to dress him again.

But the fire that had been light in Angeline's body wasn't quite out. She still found herself envisioning how the King's cock has penetrated the poor maid, and even though Angeline had climaxed, she wasn't quite yet fully satisfied, but was abandoned there with her maid.

Her maid....

Adjusting how she lay on the bed, Angeline spread her legs and gently tugged Cleo's head between them. The maid was exhausted, limp and obedient, but Angeline didn't have to say a word. As soon as the puffy lips of Angeline's sex brushed against the maid's lips, she began to lick obediently.

Later Angeline would wonder on what kind of girl she had become, going from complete innocence, to sharing a man with her own mother, witnessing her King roughly fucking a common maid in the ass, to forcing that maid to pleasure Angeline with her tongue, all within the same turning of the sun. But for the moment, she gently pulled Cleo's face into her pussy, consumed by a languid lust that demanded to be quenched.

**NoMoshing** · 06-07-2020, 01:26 AM

Adeline III

On the palace grounds, in the building known only as the Old Keep, were the chambers of the Royal Council. A spacious, octagonal room, with each wall devoted to displaying art and heraldry from each of the eight provinces of the Kingdom of Allore. Opposite each other, there were two doorways, with the door intended for the King's advisors set in the wall of Odeon, the wealthy coastal province said to be the beating heart of the kingdom. The other doorway, for the royal family's exclusive use, was set into the wall of the royal province of Gracia.

In the centre was a polished wooden table, also octagonal, designed in proportion with the room that housed it. Around that were eight seats, each decorated with the heraldry of the office that the seat was intended for. There were five men seated around that table who rose respectfully for King Roland when he entered. When Adeline followed, obediently walking a few paces behind, some of the men glanced at each other, with a mix of surprise and confusion.

Adeline smirked to herself as she stepped to one side to wait at her King's right shoulder. He still smelled faintly of the sweat and sex of His newest toys that He had played with after His morning meeting with Bishop Mathys. Adeline herself was wearing a long, grey dress with drooping bell sleeves and a almost scandalously short skirt that ended just above her knees, gathered at her waist with a white leather belt. She wore a variation of her usual hat, a white version that matched her clothing. This new clothing had been arranged by her King, and it sent a delightful shiver up her spine to think about how He had dressed her to His liking like a doll.

So much had changed for Adeline in two days. It was impossible for her to think about the woman she used to be. That was all before her King had claimed her as His own, a process that someone both reduced and elevated the witch, rendered her down to nothing but an object even as she felt exalted as His personal property. Now she could hardly relate to that small, greedy creature who had sought to reduce her beloved King to a mere puppet.

“Gentlemen, you may be seated,” the allowed with a grand gesture after taking a seat himself. There a brief scraping of chairs and rustling of cloth before the King smiled at them all. “I know our council is woefully incomplete today, but all the same I'd like to-”

“Where is my heir, you goddamn monster!?” demanded the fat Lord Amrien as he pounded the table with a closed fist. Carved into his chair, above his head, was the scale and two that marked him as the Royal Treasurer. His place was on the opposite end of the large table from the King- but also directly in the King’s view. It was ever difficult for the least favoured council member to pass secret notes or messages.

“Please, Your Grace, we require answers,” spoke Lord Daulton from beneath the crossed sword and shield of the Lord Commander. He was an older, greying bear of a man, tall and broad who had managed to resist growing soft in body in his old age. “Lord Amrien here had quite the disturbing story to share with us this morning.”

“Did he, now?” King Roland replied. “My lords, I should have you know that since our last meeting it has come to my attention that certain men and women of high standing in this realm have been conspiring against me. Last night I have engaged the Veronomigan Guard to arrest those responsible, and take hostages from those I had thought to spare. That is why Lord Oculi has been forced to vacate his position as High Justice of the Realm, and why I have taken in Lady Desiree and her young son into my custody.”

Daulton and Lord Baltoy, the aging Grand Admiral, exchanged a brief glance. “Lord Amrien has also accused you of rape against Lady Desiree,” Lord Daulton continued.

“Shall I drag her out, then, and we have the truth from her?” The King shook his head. “I am disappointed in you, Lord Amrien. I had thought to extend you mercy, that you might learn from your mistakes and serve me as you had served my father. Now I see that was a mistake. Adeline, fetch the guard.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” Adeline said smoothly. She had palmed a small silver bell for this purpose, and now revealed it as if snatching it from thin air. A small thing, not magic in the strictest sense, but part of the theatre that maintained her reputation. She rang it with a flick of her finger, drawing forth a cold, clear chime. No guards would come, of course, to such a small summons, but this was again all part of the theatre. What her Master needed most was the threat of arrest.

Almost immediately, Lord Daulton stood. “You overstep yourself, Your Grace. Having a councilman arrested while we are in session, for making accusations against you? No, it shall not be done. I will not have it! Come, Pierrot, we shall have to escort Lord Amrien to safety.”

Baltoy, hearing his personal name used so casually, sat up, startled. “Ah... yes, quite. Of course, Tristien, you have my sword.”

Lord Daulton glared at King Roland as the three men prepared to leave. “Send your giants, if you dare. There will be consequences for this. You have refreshed the ranks of the Royal Army. Let's see how fifty barbarians compare to a thousand trained soldiers.”

The King merely replied with a tight smile, and simply watched with cold, unblinking eyes as the lords fled the council chambers.

Under the symbol of a ledger and quill, Lord Daverigne, the High Steward, a young and vital boyhood friend of the King, coughed. “Well, that was quite a performance.”

“You should have seen Daulton when he came to me with these charges,” Lord Cyriaque, the slend and foppish Royal File, chuckled when he leaned back in his chair, “He was prepared for a fight even then. Kept complaining about our beloved king being a 'debauched, greedy, useless emperor just like they had in the Old Empire'. I had to remind 'twas the barbarians that sacked the old capital, not the other way around.”

King Roland stretched and sat back in his chair as well. “I am insulted. I take great exception to being called useless.”

The three men shared hearty laugh at that. Adeline smiled, and fetched the carafe a servant had left on the sideboard and began handing out goblets of wine, ensuring that Cyriaque received his first. Only when the poet had helped himself to a sip did she hand her King his wine.

“A toast, gentlemen, to keeping the rats of uncertain loyalty and will from our hallowed chambers,” the King proposed.

“A toast, and gladly, Roland,” Daverigne replied, clinking his goblet against the King's, “And a further toast as well to you new pet. I hardly knew what to believe when you said the witch would be eating out of your hand.”

Adeline blushed furiously as the Royal File shared in their toast- an immature, girlish feeling that felt strange to her all these years. Whether she was ashamed or happy that her Master had been bragging about his conquest, she could not tell, but that did not stop her from daintily helping herself to a seat on the arm of the King's chair. If being a pet pleased her King, then she had to try her best. In response, her King wrapped an army around her hips and began idly stroking her leg, a sensation that sent a shiver up her spine.

“Well, we have much to discuss,” King Roland said, drawing the meeting to order.

“I should say so,” Cyriaque replied, with a small grin, “I hope you have some genius stratagem to getting us out of this mess. I took the liberty of having swift horses on standby, just in case this meeting did not go as well as you hoped, Your Grace.”

“Do you think I'd have put the House Guards of Nessane, Amrien, and Oculi in the Royal Army wholesale, and put hundreds of swords in the hands of someone I suspected of having uncertain loyalty?” the King waved the question away. “Even now, their officers, pockets heavy with gold, should be seeking out Daulton's loyalists and putting them to the sword. Even if they fail in this task, the army will be in chaos, with wounded men and dead commanders, and Daulton should not be able to rally them to threaten us before the royal guard can arrest him.”

Daverigne frowned deeply. “Is that wise, Your Grace? We have less than half a council, and no army beyond your handful barbarian giants, and you've been spending the royal treasury freely.”

“We will be fine,” the King said confidently. “Lord Amrien was our unknowing Judas Goat, leading the uncertain elements of this council to slaughter. I had already sent for his replacement a week ago. Our new Royal Treasurer, Lord Yames should be here within a day or two.”

Now it was Cyriaque and Daverigne's opportunity to share a doubtful glance. “Lord Yames,” Cyriaque replied, “The same Lord Yames who, when you were Royal Treasurer, you discovered was embezzling taxes to fuel his orgies and feasts for his inner circle.”

“Did the old man pass away, and we're speaking of his son?” Daverigne asked incredulously.

“No, the fat old bastard lives still,” King Roland explained, “And to my knowledge he has no sons of his noble line, although doubtless a heaping helping of less metaphorical bastards. Understand this, my friends, that he has been able to get away with his crimes for decades under my father. Lord Amrien may be a useful idiot for his envy but he wasn't incompetent as Treasurer. Lord Yames was able to fool the surveyors and assessors, provide the throne it's due on top of increasing incomes in Odeon such that he was able to embezzle to his heart's content without catching attention from the throne or having his people rise against him. As far as I'm concerned, he is exactly the kind of man I want in charge of the Treasury.”

Daverigne looked absolutely gobsmacked. “Roland, you know I'm your oldest friend, I hope. So please understand when I say this... but putting a known criminal in charge of the Treasury is madness. We'll be robbed blind!”

“Consider this, Daverigne,” the King explained carefully, “I don't care if he robs me, so long as the royal incomes increase, the people stay complacent and I have money enough for all my designs. I ask you, what better beast to send after a wolf than a wolfhound? With Lord Yames as Treasurer, every rich man and noble house altering their books or keeping a few extra coins on the side will tremble in fear of this giant of their craft being unleashed against them.” He shrugged his royal shoulders and concluded, “If Lord Yames ends up with a bigger orgy, why would I care so long as the throne gets it's due and my work can be done?”

Silence reigned for a moment, until Cyriaque, visibly impressed, began applauding the King.

Daverigne sighed at the court poet. “All right, my objection is withdrawn. What of the other positions on the council?”

“An admiral will have to wait, as there are more pressing concerns and the royal province is landlocked anyway,” the King allowed, “But for High Justice I was going to appoint Lord Nicaise, when I have time.”

“Lord Nicaise,” Daverigne rubbing his forehead, “The famed writer of comedies.”

“Yes. Have you read his work? Such an surgical skewering of the flaws in my father's rule ought to make for some insightful comments on our legal code.”

“Lord Nicaise, the unapologetic pagan.”

“That too,” The King replied, “I'm sure I have His Eminence the Bishop suitably in hand that that shouldn't cause issue with Her Holiness the Papess.”

“So, who then, do you plan to appoint to be the head of your army, then?” Daverigne said, with a wave of his hand, “Surely there's a loyal and capable general who fucks goats? A cunning tactician who eats wild mushrooms and believes himself to be the return of God?”

“For now, the head of my Veronomigan Guard will suffice, until a suitable replacement for Lord Daulton can be found.”

“Actually, Your Grace, if I may,” Cyriaque interjected, “If your cunning Royal Mind has not yet decided, I may in fact know just the captain for you. And it so happens I've asked him and his closest, most trusted officers to find something else to do while Lord Daulton's coup plays out.”

“Is that so?” the King replied, his face darkening as he turns his gaze, now growing fierce, to the poet, “You betray my trust easily, Lord Cyriaque.”

“Now, now, Your Grace, please hear me out,” the poet gestured plaintively, “We all know Lord Daulton to be a staid and inspiring man, the very embodiment of piety and honour. But what if I told you of a different man, one stifled by his command, singled out for his... unconventional opinions but a staid and potent enough man to have the respect of his subordinates and the lesser soldiery at large? A man who has a chip on his shoulder for the good Lord Daulton, yet was honourable enough to not abandon his duty in the face of such a rival?”

The King was quiet for a time, considering. Then, “Very well, I'll meet this man of yours. But this arrangement better not have tipped my hand, or else.”

“I understand, Your Grace. Please, if you don't mind, I will withdraw and make the arrangements for you to meet this eve.”

King Roland nodded, and the slender poet rose, paid his respects and left the chamber.

“Cunning little rabbit, isn't he?” the King asked once he knew the Royal File was away.

“You don't trust him, Roland?” Daverigne asked.

“I don't trust anyone,” King Roland replied, “But if Lord Daulton has his way and reinstates my father as his puppet, or simply takes the throne for himself? A man like that would not serve as Royal File, to be replaced with some dour secretary or dry historian. Cyriaque came from the provinces, entertained my mother, won a seat on the council with flowery words, and cannot survive this situation without me. We shall see if he proves useful.”

“It is a little dismaying to hear that you do not trust even me, Your Grace.”

“Well, what of your little sisters, Philippe?” answered the King smoothly, “I wouldn't expect, nor want, you to remain faithful to me if their lives are under threat. So to hold your loyalty as absolute as possible, we would have to make a nation where that cannot happen, no?”

Daverigne chuckled. “You seem to have an answer for everything, Roland.”

“Good. Then you'll become my Chancellor?”

Daverigne blinked in surprise. “There hasn't been a Chancellor for over a hundred years. You expect to go campaigning, now? With an army of... fifty? Why would you need a man to act in your stead?”

“I need a man who isn't afraid to question my judgment, to act as my right hand and highest advisor. I need a man of sufficient skepticism and moral fibre to help me corral and get the most use of this gallery of rogues I'm assembling.”

Daverigne looked away. “I'll consider it, Your Majesty.”

The king nodded. “Very good. I hope you'll accept. Please be present tonight, when Cyriaque returns with this soldier of his,” he said as he dismissed Daverigne.

The other man offered the King a bow. “Are you certain that this will work, Roland? A, what did you call it, a 'gallery of rogues' to run the nation? With nary a reputable or honourable person among them?”

“I intend to complete great works in my life, thus I must value ability over all else,” King Roland said thoughtfully, “Great kings of old did not blanch over their subordinates' foibles so long as those subordinates completed their tasks and got the job done. Perhaps there is some one in a million person of brilliance and moral fibre and intense loyalty in this country, but more likely we will find people who are only strong in one of these areas of three. Loyalty can be earned, criminality can satisfied, but I have no time to teach or have someone taught, so ability must rule my choices. And given the choice between two men of similar ability, I would err on the one whose dark reputation is known, over the person who might sin greatly but hide it successfully.”

Daverigne nodded. “I thought you may say something like that. Be sure that your wings don't burn, flying too close to the sun, Your Grace.”

“Thank you, Philippe. With your help, I'm sure we can make this work.”

The High Steward bowed once more and withdrew.

King Roland sighed heavily. Fearful that she might be overstepping her bounds as his property, but wanting to comfort her Master, Adeline hesitantly reached out and began stroking the King's hair.

At first her King flinches away, casting Adeline a suspicious glance. So sensitive to the mood of her Master, Adeline drew her hand back as if she was burned, only for the King to seize her wrist. “No, you may... offer comfort, witch,” her King murmured.

And so, the witch ran her hands through her Master's thick, curly hair, the tips of her nails delicately trailing over his scalp. She could feel her Master's neck muscle relax, his head tilting in the direction of her hand.

“I can't believe that just yesterday you were trying to turn me into a puppet king, and now here I am letting you comfort me,” the King said with a dark chuckle.

“I am your property to do with as you wish, Master,” Adeline replied, “What happened before I emerged from that haze of lust yesterday afternoon, I barely remember. It seems as thought it happened to another person.”

She could recall being claimed by her Master in her laboratory, and afterwards being engulfed by some... sensation. A kind of low, animalistic longing that clouded her mind so she was adrift in sensation. She could do nothing but follow her Master's orders, numbly answering his questions to best of her ability in that barely-aware state, not unlike a cow being lead around by the farmer's goad. When she regained some faculty and awareness that night, it was in the back of her Master's carriage, with a passel of His other toys, all of whom were, to different degrees, in states similar to her own.

The one thing she was certain of was that King Roland was her Master, and that He owned her, body, mind and soul. What pleased Him pleased her, and she would die for Him if He commanded it. To do otherwise felt mad, irrational, even aberrant. She belonged to Him, was an object to be used as He saw fit. Every year of her long life was just the mindless wanderings of a lost sheep before He took control of her.

The King hadn't responded to her, indulging in the simple pleasure of having his hair stroked. But now, he broke into her reminisces, simply stating, “Here we are, at the beginning of something great, and it feels as though everything hangs on a knife edge.”

“Great men are made by great challenges, Master,” Adeline replied. She read that in a book, once. Did her Master give her permission to read? Some of her memories were so confused, it was hard to say what had happened and when.

Her King chuckled again. “An empty platitude. But I don't suppose you have much else rattling around in that empty head of yours, now, do you?”

“No, Master,” she replied, “I only think of the things you tell me to.”

That was true, in a way. She said in hopes it would please, but her Master's orders had a way of focusing things, at least.

“Still, some of your suggestions today were good. Especially that bit with the bell. Good girl.”

Adeline's cheeks flushed once again as the pure pleasure of having been praised by her Master filled her. “I am happy to have pleased You,” she replied, shifting her weight and lifting her long legs over the council table so she could slither down into her Master's lap. Her arms snaked around his shoulders, and she coyly nuzzled at his neck. Part of her was ashamed at this behaviour, being so nakedly affectionate to this man, but it was stifled by the warm glowing feeling that penetrated her mind from the intimacy.

“Oh, what's this?” the King said in reply to her suddenly clinging to him, “Are you looking for something witch?”

“Never, Master, I await your pleasure, always,” she replied, whispering into his ear, “But if you happened to need something to distract you from your troubles while we await word from your guards, I'm sure I could conjure up something.”

“So hungry already,” King Roland replied, “I would not have expected the great, sinister witch to become such a wanton slut.”

“I will be anything that pleases you, Master,” she said, pausing only to kiss His royal neck, “Do you want me to be your worshipper? Your slave? Your princess? Your whore? Anything you want is only a wish away. I am your property, to use and discard as you like.”

Through the fabric of his trousers, Adeline could feel the king's growing arousal. Her clipping down into his lap had left the witch's skirt gathered around her thighs, and her was otherwise bear- her Master had no provided smallclothes with her new dress, after all.

“You seductive little minx,” the King accused with a grin on his face, “Very well, I suppose I could pass the time by toying with you some.”

That was all the permission Adeline needed. She twisted her body further, to straddle the King's lap and lift her weigh off His body while she released the royal cock. When she finally had that glorious pillar of flesh in hand, the witch wasted no time guiding it into her moist sex.

“Oh, no foreplay for me, this time?” the King teased.

Adeline moaned. Even only partially-erect, the intrusion into her pussy made her only hungrier for more. “Please, Master,” she begged, “Don't make me withdraw.”

Instead, King Roland commanded her, “Continue.”

Gratitude flooded her, as she ground her body down onto the King's lap. Once her Master's length was fully inside her, it didn't take long for the King's cock to begin growing, producing the most amazing sensation of fullness. When she sensed He was fully erect, Adeline began riding his cock in earnest, enjoying the feeling of the hard member penetrating her sex and reaching up towards her womb. She wondered, idly, with all the magic she had used to unnaturally extend her life and preserve her beauty, could her womb quicken for it's Master's seed? But even that was soon driven away by her wildly growing need for more.

Soon the room was filled with the wet sounds of her sex and Adeline's unrestrained moans. She didn't notice how loud and wanton she was being, only able to think of her Master and how good His cock felt inside her. The witch had been reduced down, concentrated until the only thing she existed for was to fuck this man. She barely registered the sensation of being lifted from her perch and slammed, rudely, down onto the table of the royal council. She didn't register at all that she was no longer fucking her Master, but rather, He was holding down her writhing and bucking body and thrusting wildly into her pussy.

Her legs wrapped unconsciously around His waist as the King used her for his pleasure. When the hot jets of royal semen began to flood her body, an orgasm as powerful and all-consuming as thunderbolt tore through her. Her fingernails scrabbled on the smooth, lacquered surface of the table as she writhed and moaned. Nothing had prepared her- could have had prepared her- for the pure pleasure that ripped through her body like a storm.

The witch dimly registered the warm trickle of royal seed between her legs when her Master slipped the hot bar of his cock out of her pussy. She moaned in response.

Only the King's words were able to cut through the haze of her post-orgasmic bliss. “When you are done lying there like a used-up whore, clean yourself and see me in the audience chamber. I want you there for this meeting.”

Dimly, some still-sane part of her mind forced Adeline's head to nod in acknowledgement, but the rest of her was still lost in a fog.

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Master of the Kingdom

Master of the Kingdom

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