Assured Lineage

Her husband liked to fuck men. Only men. Rarely could she even get him hard. She knew that, had grown to accept it, even.

She had known it since she was eleven years old and she'd met her distant Attrian cousins for the first time. At age thirteen Laramis had teased her, declaring he'd already had more cock in his mouth than she had, wasn't that funny? But they had been betrothed then, regardless of his preference and predilection. Considering he had been fourth and last son in line for the throne, it had never really mattered.

At least, not until the funerals of his two oldest brothers, the pair of them slain within days of each other.

The entire kingdom had been horrified, mourning so strongly that it seemed the shade of death lingered over everything, darkening them down. Music was flat and food ashen, faces dreary. Their deaths had occurred so near in time but distant from each other, both dying on separate battlefields across Attria's borders. Her own parents still stalwartly guarded the north border, her home of Endris seeming excruciatingly far away from the southern Attrian capitol. She felt especially alone as the funeral procession gathered, unable to even see her husband at first. She had been folded into the crowd until the long fingers of her sister in law's hand had grasped onto hers and tugged.

"I can't find Laramis."

"He's with Jascin," she waved toward the king and his remaining twin sons. Jascin, the other woman's husband, was next in line now. He'd been born near an hour before Laramis, both of them difficult births.

Both the finely dressed young men had their heads bowed to their father's whispering, though, and Alya watched them as she got pulled closer to the front, her sister's fingers tight on hers. It seemed as though the nearer the procession got to the dais, the more animated and angry the conversation between the three men became. She noted that Laramis looked up suddenly to the ceiling, his features seeming nearly as devastated as they had been upon hearing of his brothers' deaths. She stood straighter as his eyes lowered again, searching her out. She saw chagrin tint the usually bright blue of his eyes as he caught sight of her face. Then someone shifted, she lost sight of him to the swaying crowd. He was gone.

By the time she found him once again he was storming off, both his older brother and his father staring at her, jaws tensed. They looked over Talisa as well and she felt her skin prickle and tighten in concern. Their faces were mirrors of discomfort even as they watched both women. Her back felt suddenly hot, her throat nearly as flushed under their scrutiny.

"This can't be good," Alya murmured.

"Tend to Laramis," Talisa told her strongly, pushing them apart. The other woman's features pale and tight. "This isn't the time for them to be apart."

*

"What is it?" she implored, brushing back the gilded silk of his hair. "Tell me?"

"Jascin and I leave by next moonrise," he responded, eyes shut as he relaxed into her touch. His despondency was finally starting to fade with her familiarity, her affectionate closeness. They were still husband and wife, still best friends. "We replace our brothers at the borders."

"But you're the only heirs of Attria. You can't both go. What if..."

"Yes, that's..." his stutter soured her stomach, worried her fraying edges, "that's what bed sharing is for, Alya."

She met his eyes, saw the worry and apology in the way he was desperately watching her face. "You mean Jascin."

"My father. And Deremon." His fine soft features were pained as he looked at her. He couldn't imagine how pained she felt in regards to the situation. His sympathetic looks didn't do much to make her feel any better.

His uncle was in his late sixties, poor in both health and demeanor. She was appalled by the very idea. "Deremon isn't even in line to - "

"His blood is sacrosanct, Alya. Just as mine. It's a royal cock between his legs, regardless." His concern for her waned slightly, replaced by obvious guilt. "He can plant more of Attria's seed in your belly than I can and my father knows it."

"Can't we just try first? You and I? Your men can join us if -"

"It wasn't my choice, darling. I'm sorry," he told her, exasperated. He seemed desperate as he stepped away from her, getting more agitated and upset as reality set in on both of them. She watched his hands swipe at his blonde hair, shoving it off his face. "It begins tonight. There are only twelve days til moonrise and both of you need to be full with child, just in case."

"And if we aren't?" she asked pointedly, voice culled and quiet.

His shoulders sank as his chin lowered to his chest. "My father and Deremon will still bed you both in our stead. Or the lesser cousins will try. At least until you carry an heir."

"This is barbaric," Alya exhaled, her hand against her stomach as she swayed with mild nausea.

He looked up at her, pretty and fair, eyes bright blue. "It's Attrian."

*

She hadn't realized that he had meant so soon, before supper was even called.

It had only been an hour or so since Laramis had left to report to the king's generals. Suddenly Deremon, the king's own uncle, was in their chambers with her. The smile on his face was both lascivious and eerie, his movements exaggerated by how lanky he was.

His presence was always unsettling but this was undoubtedly far worse than any other evening she had been forced to entertain the wizened older man. She and Laramis had often joked that he was the least desirable member of the royal family left and now she was to willingly open her thighs for him? Let him rut her like a common whore?

Could he even still sire children?

"Just bred a weak pup of a boy into my maid not year ago," he told her as he shut the door behind her own abruptly dismissed servant. "May not be strong as it once was but I've still got plenty enough spunk to fill your womb, my dear."

It was as though he had read her mind, plucked her thoughts right from her head. She suddenly felt extraordinarily nauseous, her body swaying slightly as he stepped nearer. Alya tightened the dressing gown she had stripped down into closer to her body, arms curling around herself as he studied her. His glance was greedy, eyes brown with a tint of jaundice in the whites of them. One eye was much milkier than the other, constantly weeping down the left of his face. She tried to ignore it.

"Yes, my Lord." He was officially a duke, named so by her father-in-law. But even the smell of him was sour and aged, his clothing supposedly opulent - at least until inspected closely. The fabric was worn and soiled, sweated thicker in some places, darker. At least his form was slight, thin. He wouldn't smother her petite frame like some men might.

"Too bad my nephew can't manage to get a little whelp in that belly of yours. You've got lovely fertile hips and heavy tits," he said, as though offering her a sweet compliment. "Might fare better if he wasn't so busy sucking cock."

"Yes, my Lord. That is true."

"Best get started then." He stepped into her space quickly, pawed at her with long knob knuckled fingers. He was fast and spry, tangling her into his arms and up the front of him, his breath hot and moist on her cheek. Alya struggled slightly, mewling out a whimper of surprised disgust when he covered her mouth with his own. His tongue shoved into her mouth and he grunted, slicking it against hers while his hands pulled her into his groin. He tasted fetid, like rotted teeth and old fruit.

The bulge between his thighs was obvious, though, lumped hard against her belly as he shoved it farther against her. Both his broad palms caught on her upper arms as he continued kissing her, using his hips to lever her back to the bed. She stepped with him to keep from falling, the kiss jostling apart as the mattress lodged up against the backs of her knees.

"Let's see these tits then," he demanded, voice slagging into a low hiss. Alya's fingers shook and he was too impatient to wait, slapping them away from the ties at her front. His arthritic fingers still worked well enough to snap the fabric open, ripping some of the thin satin ribbon apart. His grunt of appreciation made her flush hot all down her bared front. Her breasts over-flowed the torn fabric, round and heavy, their curves pressing into some inviting cleavage.

It was his wrinkled hands roughly groping all over them that brought rage and revulsion over her, suddenly and flashed white hot. Alya yelped angrily at his mean fisted squeezing and tried to shove him back.

The sudden full weight slap of his palm across her face brought her sharply back to reality, tossing her dark hair aside. There was more strength still in the sinewy arm than she had expected. Alya licked at the blood that already bloomed on the inside of her upper lip, a hand pressed to her inflamed cheek as her head hung toward her shoulder.

A snort of derision preceded his low graveley tone, "Do you need another?"

"No, my Lord. I'm sorry," she whispered, her jaw lifting as he lowered his mouth down the side of her neck. He sucked and licked on the soft skin there, fingers pinching and pulling on her nipples. There was a feeling of punishment in his movements, a purposeful meanness in each twist and tug. Soon it gave way to full palmed squeezing and groping, though. She could feel her breasts beginning to enjoy it then, her nipples stiffening and swelling at his attentiveness.

"Wonderful little tits, wasted," Deremon murmured up her cheek, reaching for her hand and dragging it down between them. She didn't fight him, instead letting him guide her palm around his hardened cock as he pulled it from his black breeches. "Shame a child should suckle them sooner than your own husband."

Alya didn't answer, though a fraction of her agreed.

It was just as much Laramis' fault that this was happening. Maybe moreso.

"Stroke it, Alya," he muttered, breath sour, spitting into his palm and slicking it up his shaft as she complied. He did it twice more, eyes fluttering shut as he groaned over her breasts. His hands rose and grasped onto her slim shoulders as he watched her, now using both her smaller palms to curl around the long cock that strained between them. "Yes, my sweet. That's nice. That's better."

He had already been hard when she had begun. Now his thrusting cock was a purpled raging beast in her hands, a thin but formidable creature, straining to stab at her cunt. The head was mushroomed large and he was so hard, much harder than she had ever managed to get Laramis.

It was suddenly extraordinarily intimidating. "My Lord, I - "

"Bend over the bed, now," he told her, one soft kiss placed on her lips before he sent her spinning around.

She had barely the time to savour his kindness before he had the double layered skirt flipped up over her back and her arse in the air. Those long fingers scrabbled at fabric once more and then her finely made undergarments were shredded, gone. She whined unintentionally when his fingers slipped between her thighs, jabbing at her mound. One finger thrust inside her while another raked against her little nub, making everything throb. She whimpered as he kept prodding, using his fingers to widen her further open, both his hands now dabbling between her legs. Alya gripped into the fresh bedclothes beneath her, bent so that her palms were down and arms stretched. Her breasts swung as his jamming and rubbing fingers got more and more fervent. She could feel the moaning rise up her throat, unbidden. Her legs had already started to shake. Heat unspooled from somewhere low in her gut and reached outward, through her limbs. She felt dampness start to wet his long fingers.

That's when he started slicking the head of his cock around in the wet that he had drawn out of her. She could smell both their sex, could feel his cock stretching, wanting to slither inside her. She keened through slow sliding pain as he drove the entire length up into her tunnel. His balls were flush to her and she could hear him grunting from exertion as he aimed for her womb, one of his hands grasping the back of her neck. He shoved down hard on her head, arching her up more as he started pumping in and out of her, groaning and panting. She spasmed around him uncontrollably, moaning loudly when she realized how happily her body was accommodating him.

Her father had bred dogs at home in Endris, great dire beasts that would rage and rut in their massive cages. She'd watched a male bite down on a female's neck once, pinning her while he humped at her from behind.

She felt helplessly pinned that way, bitten down and clamped still while he pistoned his great long cock in and out of her. His fingernails dug into her neck and her hip and she felt raw, the friction burning up through her tunnel. She felt like the weak female, bent and clamped down, a great knot of cum building in him, meant to breed her. Alya shamefully realized that the very thought made her shiver and moan.

"Lord Der- Deremon," she stuttered through her clenched jaw, teeth knocking together after an especially hard thrust. "You're...hurting me."

"Yes, hold still child," he panted apologetically, voice surprisingly softer than it had been. She heard him spit and then felt him pull from inside her, slicking her up with wet fingers. Then he was back at her, his thrusts gaining speed and force while also losing their finesse. He was getting rushed and ragged, his breathing rough and his grunts echoing loudly throughout her bed chamber. They were both louder than she had expected, one of her moans wailing up from her lungs before she could tamp it down. His long cock was stretching deep into her cunt, the sounds of their wet joining nearly as audible as their groans and moans.

"Shame I can't cum all over those pretty tits," he panted just before a great growl shook up from his lungs. "The cunt'll have to do, my darling. We'll get a baby in that belly for you, hmm?"

"Yes, thank you, m'Lord."

As soon as she said it he gushed into her, jamming in straight and tight so that he could splash her cervix with cum. A long ropey load shot into her, hot and messy, making her moan as it filled her. She could swear she felt him filling her, could feel the warm heavy feeling that had never happened with his great nephew. She didn't tell him that his cum was the first to ever really fill her womb. She didn't want him to know that Laramis only ever managed to cum in her mouth.

It felt so different, so strange.

Yet... it felt right. And she didn't hate him so much as she had expected to. He'd been rough, but not cruel. And at times... it had been... had almost felt... pleasurable.

And she was ashamed of that. Especially considering she had no idea where her husband was.

*

It wasn't degrading enough that he had mounted her again on the bed before leaving, once more from behind. They had seated her beside him at dinner as well, though, adding insult to injury.

Another deposit of cum had been left inside her just as they had been called for dinner and Deremon had called upon her maid, Ilsa, to re-dress them both. Now the king was at the head of the long table, Talisa at his left, where one of his older sons would usually be. Their widows were notably absent from dinner and Alya tried to meet Talisa's eyes from down the opposite side of the long benched table. Her sister-in-law never looked up. Neither woman was very talkative, neither showed much interest in their food, either.

"Uncle, how has the plan progressed?"

"She's got a damn hungry cunt," he informed the table, voice conversational. "Must be starved. Milks me dry right quick."

"Father, really?" Laramis shot up from her left, taking on a slight whine. "Must he speak that way?"

"My apologies, nephew," Deremon chuckled, his hand reaching for her stomach and giving it a good pat before she could brush him off. "She's got a good belly full of Attrian seed, ain'tcha? We got a good start in."

"Yes, Lord Deremon," she whispered, cheeks flaming hot in shame.

"Alya," the king murmured softly, his mastery of the Endris language making her name sound more as it should, as her mother had meant. His smooth accent made it two warm and welcoming syllables rather than the three most Attrian speakers used. A simple 'Awl-yuh' and not the more intricate 'Al-yee-uh' her husband used. "I think it best you bed with Deremon this evening, let him continue his work. Have your woman attend you in his chambers."

"Your Majesty," she responded affirmatively, inclining her head. She wasn't actually all that surprised by his orders - though Laramis huffed loud enough for both of them.

"We can discuss tomorrow's schedule over breakfast," he continued, taking a strong swallow of wine before turning his head. "Talisa, you may join me again tonight."

"Of course, my king."

"No, actually," his reconsideration paused them all breathless and Alya studied his sharp angled features as he turned his glance her way. "Two nights should do t'start, ladies. Do you agree?"

They both muttered a rote agreement, respectful but detached. Alya swallowed hard when she felt Deremon's hand on her thigh, rubbing the fabric of her skirt slowly higher before settling there possessively. She had to remind herself which man was her husband and which one had truly physically possessed her.

"I suppose neither of us get a say in this," Jascin argued from his place across from her. Though, he had motioned to Laramis on her left. The twins wore the same disgruntled looks on their faces, the same anger in their matching blue eyes. Jascin had more of the muscular physique to back that anger, though. Laramis was whip thin in comparison.

King Elswin paused his eating as he surveyed them, a piece of bread half ripped between fingers, "You had your chances. You failed. Now you can leave this to the men who've sired heirs."

"But, father - "

"I won't have my bloodline end with you two disappointments. Is that understood?" Neither son responded as it had been obvious the question was rhetorical. "I'll let every nobleman across Attria fuck your wives if that's what it takes to get one worthwhile heir out of them, boy or girl. I don't give a damn about your pride or your feelings. I need these ladies to hand me a fucking child to crown, even if I have to put it in them myself."

"To Attria!" Deremon mock cheered with his wine, keeping his voice gamely and lighthearted while the rest of them drowned in their own misery.

"He doesn't have to enjoy it so much."

"Someone ought to enjoy your beautiful wife, Laramis," Elswin commanded sharply, punctuating the commentary with the thud of his wine glass on the wooden table. "Gods know you don't."

They all knew exactly what he had meant by that, Laramis most of all.

"My king?" she interrupted, just out of sheer panic.

"Yes, darling?"

Alya licked along dry lips and met his tired glance, studying him for a beat before speaking. "I'd like to go bathe before bed."

His slate blue eyes softened as he took in how pink flushed she was. It was as though he could read her nervy embarrassment like words across a page. One brief nod lifted toward one of the doors. "Go on. Talisa, you're free to go too, if you wish."

Talisa finally seemed to exhale the breath she had been holding as the both of them stood. "Thank you, my king."

She could feel their eyes on her back as she left, maybe King Elswin's most of all.

*

She noted that once given the luxury of time, Deremon seemed gentler, slower, less forceful. He was still just as crass in manner and speech, but his fucking had become less rough-shod.

She had waited awkwardly for him in his chambers after Ilsa had bathed and dressed her, unsure of herself in the foul smelling room. It stank of musty clothes, old piss, and the smoke from the constantly lit fireplace. It was well warm enough, but it seemed the fire churned constantly anyhow. A young man had been in at least twice to attend it, confusion muddling his features as he had made his apologies the first time seeing her.