tagNovels and NovellasCrowned Doves Ch. 01

Crowned Doves Ch. 01

bygottschalk03©

Introduction: The man's name is remembered differently by the different peoples of Europe: Karl der Grosse to the Germans, Carolo Magno to the Italians, Charlemagne to the French, Charles the Great to the English. For nearly half a century, from 768 until his death in 814, he built the kingdom of the Frankish people into an empire that encompassed nearly all of western Europe. An indefatigable warrior, a stern judge, patron of the church and of learning, ally to popes, Charlemagne was very much the founding father of medieval Europe.

The great emperor's personal life is remembered less by posterity. Over his long life, the ruler of Europe loved no less than five wives and at least as many concubines that we know of. Eight of these women bore him twenty children among them; one, the queen Hildegard, married him at the age of fourteen and died twelve years later, having carried no less than nine princes and princesses, though some did not outlive their mother.

794 was a turning point in Charlemagne's career; now approaching fifty years old, he began to give up his habit of traveling from estate to estate around his kingdom and built a grand palace at Aachen, or Aix-la-Chapelle, around a hot spring where he loved to swim. He also married his fifth and final wife that year, Liutgard. Around the same time, between 792 and 796, his armies achieved their first great conquest without the king's personal leadership, the destruction of the Avar Kingdom in modern Hungary. The king was still vigorous, but beginning to settle down. Six years later, the pope at Rome would crown him Emperor of the Romans, thus designating him the successor of Caesar Augustus and Constantine the Great.

For reasons unknown, Charlemagne never permitted his daughters to marry. His eldest son, Charles the Younger, waited for a suitable alliance to wed and ended up dying before his father, in 811. Combined with the monarch's own habits, the presence of so many unmarried young princes and princesses around the court made Aachen something of a pleasure palace, rife with affairs and intrigues. This is the story of a few of them.

Notes: Since so many languages have a claim on him, I have decided to use the Latin version of the king's name, Carolus, which is probably close enough to what his courtiers called him. I have also made one deliberate modification to historical names, replacing Carolus' actual young concubine of 794, whose name was Amaltrud, with a later one, Ethelind, who bore him two sons a decade later. This was to help avoid confusion in the readers' minds between Amaltrud and Adaltrud, his illegitimate daughter by another concubine who features in the story. Otherwise I have tried to keep as close as I can to what we know about the Carolingian court, but have felt free to invent details as needed for the sake of the story.

My intention is to write an erotic story fit for the readers of Literotica, but I want it to have a genuine plot as well; I will do my best to mark out the lustier sections for readers who want to get straight to the action.


Chapter One

The King and the Concubine


It was morning, and little was stirring in the new palace. Soon there would be the banging of hammers, as workmen labored to finish the new houses for the nobles, and behind it would be the high sweet chanting of monks singing the morning office. Servants would bustle about the kitchen to ready the morning meal and a thousand other tasks would need doing. But at this moment, for a brief while, there was stillness.

The early morning sunlight broke through a gap in silken window hangings onto a broad, stout bed, covered in soft furs and more silk. Two figures in the bed shifted slightly against each other. The woman woke first, squinting into the sunlight, then turning to look at the sleeping man. She had a rich head of chestnut hair, high arched brows, and full lips, which now smiled softly at him. Even lying down, it was clear that the man next to her was massive, over six feet tall, barrel-chested and broad-shouldered with cropped hair turning to grey and a mustache to match. With a mischievous grin, the woman ducked her head down under the covers.

Somewhere down among his midsection, a pelt of fine bearskin began to lift and fall in rhythm, up and down. The massive man smiled in his sleep, as though dreaming of pleasant things. Then his back arched, and the pelt shifted. His eyes fluttered slowly open as the sensations from his body dragged him to wakefulness. He pulled himself up on his elbows and looked down. The bearskin shifted again and fell away entirely.

The chestnut-haired woman was at his crotch, and had drawn his member up to full height in her hand. The man grunted as she stroked it steadily, squeezing it, pulling it to full size. Her eyes smiled up at him as he stared down at her, not sure if he was awake or still dreaming, and her wide red lips parted to touch his head. She kissed it, sweetly and slowly, at first. Then a tongue stretched out between those lips and lapped along the bottom of his swollen cock, long and steady up the shaft until it reached the head. She swirled her head around the tip of his massive glans, then laughed softly, opened her mouth, and began to swallow him.

Her smiling eyes never left his as her head began to pump up and down, sucking his massive member deep into her mouth and then releasing it again... all but the head, which she sucked on just as it seemed about to come loose. He threw his head back as she gave him head, groaning in pleasure, feeling the wet heat of her mouth all over his thick pole. He felt himself growing ever larger, stiffer, harder in her, while her cocksucking became more and more insistent and furious.

Finally she released him, gasping loudly herself as his great tower burst from her mouth with an audible pop. Her eyes were no longer smiling, but hungry now, still fixed on him. She slipped off of him and slowly turned around, turning her own sex to him, spreading her legs and running her hands along her soft inner thighs. She was an extraordinary woman, round hips and full breasts shining softly in the morning sunlight, beckoning him, arousing him.

"Your cock tastes.... so good... my lord..." the woman moaned in a throaty voice. "Fuck me, my king.... Please, please.... Fuck me with it...."

The king -- for he was, indeed, the king -- did not need any begging. As she lay back, he rose up and kneeled between her spread legs, his massive cock rearing up high like a stallion on parade. Her fingers crawled down her thighs and found the soft wet flesh of her pussy. Her needs were urgent, even more than his, and she stroked herself even as he parted her lips for him, opening the way for him to enter. He moved closer and lowered the throbbing shaft to her, placing the head at the gateway to her cunt, letting her grasp it in her hands and start to pull him inside her.

He leaned in then and thrust his cock in hard, sliding inch after inch of his manhood deep up her slick pussy. The woman gasped as she felt herself suddenly filled by his hard thrust, but she pulled her legs even further apart, yielding to him, begging him to take her, to have his way with her. His hips shifted, and the great shaft slid out, out, out until she was nearly empty of him, but then he shoved forward again and rammed his meat into her, deeper and harder than the first time. She felt his great weight press on her, her hands now exploring the great muscled bulk of his belly, his sides, his chest. He was taking her steadily now, his strong body heaving in and out, pressing his stiff cock deep in, sliding out again, and then fucking her again, a little harder and faster each time. His face dropped toward her, lips kissing her cheek, her neck, her breasts. She cupped her breasts in her hands and pressed them up to his searching mouth. His lips locked over one nipple and sucked it hard, tongue dancing over it inside his mouth. All the while his hips never stopped pumping, thrusting his hard cock into her cunt deeper, harder.

She felt pressure building inside her, like she was going to faint, like she was going to burst into flame. "Oh fuck," she was gasping, "oh FUCK! Come on, cum oooon.... Fuck me fuck me fuck my pussy fuck me..." She fucked him back herself, her hips bucking against his, her whole body starting to shake violently, uncontrollably.

His cock was battering into her now, ramming home brutally, cramming her pussy full of his power. The king's muscled body began to be coated in sweat, his face rubbing in the cleavage between the woman's ample tits, every inch of him straining to drive his cock home inside her. As she groaned and cursed and begged him to fuck her, the king too began to grunt, "yes.... Yes... unh... fuck it, little bitch... take this big fucking cock in you... take it... yeahhh..... FUCK it... fuck... FUCK..."

She could hardly take it any more... his face on her breasts seemed like an extra push, his sweat just made everything smooth and slick and mingled with her own sweat until it seemed their whole bodies were going to melt together... "FUCK!" she was crying, "YES... oh YES oh GOD GOD GOD YEss....." the heat built in her, until suddenly, screaming, the flame erupted and she felt slick wet heat gushing inside her, cumming all over him, orgasm flowing like a river until it swept her away and she couldn't even think any more...

The king felt it too, the sticky hot gush inside her pussy all over his cock, pulsing and throbbing in the damp and fire of it all... he was a tower, he was a mountain, he was an earthquake.... His own pressure hammered at the gates inside his body, strove to reach the tunnel to freedom. Her tits were bouncing madly under his eyes, her body writhing, she was screaming and he screamed with her... "FUUUUCK YESSSS" he shouted... the gates inside opened, he threw his whole weight against her cunt, he exploded and felt his body pumping his cum into her willing, shapely form, as she shuddered and wriggled against him and his cock, as though it had a mind of its own, kept pushing and pushing and pushing into her wet sweet pussy.....

He collapsed onto her. She was laughing merrily, laughing madly like a crazy woman, and he took a deep breath and pulled her close to his massive frame, the curves of her body setting neatly against him.

"Fuck.... That was good...."

"Yes...." She answered. "I always have good ideas, don't you think?"

"You certainly do," he laughed, and pulled her tighter and kissed her eyelids.

"It's so good to have you to myself once in a while," she murmured... a slight shadow fell across his face in the midst of his happiness.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Fastrada always hounded me," she said. "You know what I mean. You were as miserable as I was. Wouldn't give you a decent fuck herself and wouldn't let anyone else, either."

"Don't speak ill of the dead, Ethelind," he said softly.

"Oh, our poor sainted queen," Ethelind replied. "I know, I'm sorry, Carlus.... But this has been such a happy spring. I'm sorry for her, I really am.... But I'm happy for us.... That's all...." She sighed. "Carlus... why do you have to marry again?"

"You know how things are," he told her. "Too many of the nobles still think my father usurped the crown, that they have as much right to it as I do. The only thing that prevents them casting me off and choosing one of themselves to replace me is that the church is on my side. And the church wants me married their way."

"They've turned a blind eye to us well enough so far..."

"Maybe as long as I keep the gifts flowing to them, and support their reforms and missions, and keep up appearances," he said. "The smarter ones will ignore the women of the palace as long as there's a queen to keep up their picture of how things ought to be. But the church insists that there be a proper roman-style wife, and the nobles insist that she not be a commoner..."

"Which rules me out," Ethelind pouted.

"You know how I adore you, Ethelind," Carlus said tenderly. "I promise never to send you away from my bed. But there must be a queen, or the bed, the palace... me... everything will be gone...."

"Fine," she said, clearly unhappy. "So when does her next majesty arrive?"

"As a matter of fact," the king said, "if last night's messenger told true, she should get here today."

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