Duty to the Kingdom Pt. 01

Her beautiful face took on a serious look. "Watching me change is not something that a son should do to his mother. What happened between us won't happen again. And you should agree that I made a horrible mistake. Yes, I am your queen and wife, but first and foremost, I'm your mother. The one who gave birth to you. I belong to your deceased father, our king, and only."

Ethel nodded barely perceptibly and then watched her go as she returned to queen's duties.

And so began his second day of reign, with bad news that, unfortunately, was quite expected.

Nevertheless, he was sure she derived some perverse pleasure from his gaze, relishing in the attention bestowed upon her by a young man who happened to be her very own son.

A plan was already taking shape in his mind.

===

Time passed, and as night fell, she would always push him away, wrapping herself in a shroud of darkness before changing, and sternly demanding him to look away. No matter how much he tried to sneak a peek or convince her again to let him watch, her answer was always the same: No.

He didn't want to ruin their relationship at all, so he had to obey.

Without delay, Ethel sought out the royal tailor, Young, renowned for crafting exquisite garments for the queen herself.

"I need something from you. Can you make some modifications to her robes?" Ethel requested of the tailor, guarded by a group of stern-faced soldiers. "Alter them in such a way that it requires multiple attendants to assist her with the donning and removal. Do me a favor."

The aged tailor peered at Ethel through his tiny spectacles and studied him for a moment before nodding serenely, as if it was not the worst thing he had been asked to do.

Now, he had to deal with the servants. What was the point of these changes if the queen could simply ask them to help her instead of him?

====

"I fear for our lives, mother," he said to her one evening when they were alone. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting long shadows across the walls. He sighed and turned his gaze to the intricate patterns of the wallpaper as she changed. "It seems like I've already memorized every inch of this damn wall," he thought to himself.

"What do you mean, my dear?" his mother inquired, slipping into a light sleeping garment and unfurling her long hair.

"Do you think Father died of natural causes? I've overheard whispers of unrest among the staff. And the way he died...it was too quick, too convenient. I'm sure one of the servants was involved. Probably some kind of poison or whatever"

She looked closely at him as he turned around. In the dim light of the hearth, her breast contours were clearly visible, but her nipples were still hidden by the dress pattern.

"So,they shouldn't be allowed here, in our room," he asserted, his gaze lingering on her.

"It will be difficult to deal with our routine without the servants."

"I don't think it's a problem. If you need any help, just come to me."

"Fine," she sighed after a moment of hesitation. He lay there, hidden beneath the warmth of the blanket, watching her slip into bed. As she finally settled beside him, the delicate fabric of her nightdress brushed against his skin, igniting his senses with a heady rush of warmth. The softness of her breath brushed against his cheek, carrying a whisper of temptation that sent shivers down his spine. Sometimes it seemed that he couldn't wait any longer; he was overwhelmed with desire and lust. As the silence settled around them, she spoke softly. "Good night, my dear"

With a bittersweet ache, he echoed the sentiment. "Good night, mom," he breathed, his desires simmering beneath the surface, waiting for the day when he could no longer suppress the fire that burned within. He was so hard, feeling his precum splurt from the tip right on the bedsheet. His virgin cock desired a pussy, and this desired pussy belonged to his mother.

In the hushed embrace of the night, they both drifted off to sleep.

===

In a couple of weeks, his request to Young finally bore fruit.

"What on earth does Young think he's doing, completely ruining my exquisite dress? He has to be the most atrocious dresser I've ever encountered in all my years."

Beatrice couldn't figure out what was wrong with her robe as she couldn't manage to put it on. Her puzzled gaze fixed on the intricate folds of her robe.

"Let me help," Ethel approached from behind, touching her bare shoulders and pale soft skin.

"Thank you," she softly said, feeling his touch. He carefully helped her with the dress, his hands encircled her waist and lightly brushed against her buttocks. He gently slid the robe up her arms, adjusting it to fit comfortably over her shoulders.His eyes met hers. "This dress looks absolutely stunning on you," he complimented, a genuine smile gracing his lips.

"But putting it on is a nightmare," she replied with a sigh.

"Well, it's worth it," his fingers gently brushed against her lush, black hair, inhaling the intoxicating scent that surrounded her.

"That's enough, Ethel. I have to go. Thanks again for your help." With a swift turn, she left the room, her dress finally perfectly in place. With a lingering touch released, Ethel reluctantly let her hair slip from his grasp. As Beatrice gracefully turned and departed the room, he watched the sway of her hips.

"I want more. I want it all. I want all of her," he said to himself watching her go.

===

Over time, Ethel began to assist her with dressing every morning and evening, and it quickly became a daily routine. Ethel's tender support became an unwavering presence, his gentle touch gliding along the contours of her shoulders, tracing the delicate curve of her neck, and occasionally grazing her hips.

As days turned into weeks, his touches were no longer merely functional, but rather lingered in places they shouldn't. In gratitude for his help, she began kissing him on the cheek. And while the kisses were appreciated, he yearned for a deeper connection, one that transcended the boundaries of parent and child.

One day he finally decided to pay Alfred a visit in the kitchen.

"So, how is your love life, King?" Alfred asked teasingly, emerging from the bustling kitchen and meeting Ethel's gaze.

"I need your sexy fern," Ethel interrupted him half-heartedly standing in the middle of the kitchen. Several of the cooks passing by looked at him weirdly.

"Sexy what?" Alfred gently took his friend aside making a fake smile.

"Sexy fern." Similarly confidently, Ethel repeated.

"You mean xerpentine?... Man, what do you want it for? I thought you can't have a girlfriend as a king."

"I want to use it for the queen," he said firmly and Aflred furrowed his eyebrows.

"Wow, so you finally decided to embrace this weird marriage and be with her?" Alfred patted him on the shoulder admiringly. "No judgement"

"Will you help me with that? Just do your thing and add it discreetly to the queen's dish."

"It sounds easier than it is. You know how hard it is to add something in the food? Everybody will think I try to poison her."

"You are a smart guy. Take some time to ponder on a clever solution"

Alfred nodded, impressed by his friend's newfound dedication, and assured him, "Consider it done."

Just as Ethel turned to leave, Alfred discreetly cleared his throat, capturing his attention once more."I do you a favor, my king. I hope you won't forget about me in the future"

Ethel met Alfred's gaze. "I won't, Al. I won't"

===

The evening has come and he started to wait hoping that Alfred's magic herb worked. Every passing moment felt like an eternity, his heart pounding in his chest. That was the first time when he started to doubt what he was doing. He couldn't help but ponder: "Am I truly doing the right thing? Perhaps the mother was right, and this forbidden relationship should never have happened. Am I really going to fuck her?"

A surge of conflicting emotions flooded through him. The realization of the potential harm he could inflict upon his own mother settled upon his troubled thoughts. It was as if he was, in a way, coercing her into a deeply intimate act against her will.

Finally, the doors swung open and he dismissed all concerts. "There's no turning back."

Exhausted and weary, Beatrice made her way into the opulent chambers, longing for respite. Frustration etched on her face, she attempted to rid herself of the confounding dress that seemed to conspire against her at every turn.

"Damn that incompetent tailor," she muttered under her breath, her irritation seeping through her words. The gown, stubbornly clinging to her, refused to yield to her efforts once again.

Sensing her distress, Ethel approached from behind. "Let me help".

The warmth of his touch was a stark contrast to the chill in the room. His fingers grazed her soft shoulders, providing a gentle caress, while his lips brushed against the delicate curve of her neck. As his lips ventured closer to the forbidden territory, a longing ignited within him.

Their eyes locked, the unspoken connection between mother and son momentarily eclipsed. Ethel's voice, barely above a whisper, broke the silence. "I know we are mother and son. But you, my dear mother, are my queen, and our union extends beyond blood. The kingdom demands that we seek more from this marriage, that we fulfill our duty to both crown and country."

His words hung in the air. The plea for a deeper connection, an acknowledgment of their shared destiny, echoed with a sense of urgency that left Beatrice contemplating the delicate balance between loyalty, obligation, and the longing of her own heart. He leaned closer to meet her lips in a hot embrace, their breaths mingling, but she pushed him aside.

"Ethel, my beloved son," her words trembled with a bittersweet tenderness, echoing the love that had nurtured their bond throughout the years. "I cannot cross that line. I know how you feel, I truly do. But I want to find solace in love we share as mother and son"

His face remained unmoving, his eyes locked on hers. "I have needs that only you, my queen, can fulfill. I yearn for your touch, your presence. "

"My dear Ethel," she touched his cheek gently. "We have already gone too far. And if we go further we both will regret about it deeply."

"But I'm not asking for anything physical. Of course, I'm not," he said, trying to contain his desire. "There are other ways. You can... satisfy my needs with your hands. We won't cross any line with that"

"Just listen to yourself. how can you even suggest such a thing?" her cheeks flushed, a mixture of embarrassment and conflicting emotions washing over her. She stepped back, creating a small but necessary distance. "No, Ethel. I cannot do this. It is not right. Don't even ask me."

He barely concealed his disappointment and stepped back, feeling he can't go any further. "Fine... As you wish, my queen,"

"I am glad you understand," she said softly, hoping that he would respect her decision.

As she changed into her nightgown, he tried to hold himself back. However, when they settled in the spacious king-sized bed, the temptation proved too strong, he instinctively leaning closer, drawn by an invisible force between them.

It's like a few hours had passed when his senses heightened, and an unexpected touch caressed his groin beneath the velvety covers. The sensation of her hand was electrifying. He gasped as he felt the warmth of her touch, an experience he had never felt before, but the pleasure was double as he understood it was his mother's hand. The realisation made him hard in a second. She quickly found her way through his trousers and encircled his shaft, he let out a soft moan.

"I can't bear to see you suffer," she whispered, her lips brushing against his ear.

With a sly grin, she started to tease him, her hand moving up and down his length with increasing speed, each stroke quickening in pace. He was powerless to resist. He gazed upon her exquisite face, his heart ablaze with an overwhelming rush of passion, an intense love for the woman who had nurtured and cared for him all his life -- his beloved mother.

In that intimate moment, he realized the depth of his affection for the woman who had selflessly devoted herself to his well-being. It was a love that defied societal norms, a love that whispered secrets in the darkest corners of their hearts.

He surrendered to the intoxication of her touch, the crescendo of sensations coursing through his veins. Every stroke of her hand awakened dormant desires, stoking a fire within him that burned with an intensity he had never known.

As the world faded into oblivion, they became lost in a realm of their own creation, bound by an unspoken understanding that defied reason. In that sacred space, there were no judgments, no societal norms to adhere to. There was only the raw, unadulterated expression of their love, cloaked in secrecy and forbidden desires.

"Please, don't stop", he moaned feeling her soft palm. "Can't believe you are doing this"

In the midst of their fiery and passionate embrace, his hand instinctively yearned to caress the soft curve of her breast, driven by desire. But she swiftly intercepted his advance, gently but firmly refusing his touch. Her voice carried a subtle yet commanding tone, leaving no room for doubt. "No touching," his mother whispered as she continued to pull on and down the skin of his cock under the blanket, speeding up and slowing down now and then.

"Oh, mom". No wonder he was already close. "You are so good at this"

"Don't talk", she commanded.

He gazed deeply into her eyes, losing himself in their verdant depths. As he looked upon her, he felt an overwhelming wave of love that washed over him, leaving him breathless. She was simply breathtaking, with her long, silky black hair fanned out on the pillow and a soft, gentle smile playing across her lips. Her eyes were a vivid green, sparkling with an inner light. He noticed the slight crinkles at the corners of her eyes, testament to the passing of time. But to him, they only added to her beauty, a reminder of the years they had spent together and the love they had shared.

He wrapped his arms around the sheets to contain his emotions. In that sacred moment, their souls intertwined, forever bonded by the eternal and unbreakable thread of a mother's love. He could no longer contain the love he felt inside and the words tumbled out of his mouth, "I love you, Mom".

She stay silent but he could feel her hard hot breathing, the look of passion in her eyes. He felt the familiar rush of ecstasy building deep within him. His pulse quickened as he savored the sweet agony of anticipation. His senses were on fire, the scent of her skin, the softness of her touch, and the sound of her breath were driving him crazy.

Her hand continued to stroke his quivering flesh, a rhythmic motion that matched the intensity building within him. Beads of sweat formed on his brow as he succumbed to the mounting pleasure. He felt himself approaching the edge, his breathing became ragged, the sensations overwhelming his mind and body. He closed his eyes, letting himself be consumed by the shroud of pleasure that washed over him, leaving him breathless and blissful. Every muscle in his body contracted.

"I'm cumming, mom" And then, at long last, his climax arrived. He felt himself reaching the peak, and with a cry of pure ecstasy, he surrendered to the pleasure, his body shaking with the intensity of his release. "Oh-h-h-h-h, mom." His balls tighented and his cock shuddered under her hand. In that enchanting moment, he looked exactly at her, captivated by the graceful curve of her breasts and the exquisite contours of her face. Without a backward glance, he grabbed her breasts through her nightie, feeling soft skin and hardened nipples. And she let him.

An electrifying surge of pleasure coursed through his veins, sending shivers of ecstasy down his spine. Every nerve in his body ignited with a fiery intensity, as if a dormant volcano had erupted within him. With each breath, his lungs filled with a delicious intoxication.

His body convulsed, sending waves of hot, sticky fluid spilling out of him. A torrent of ecstasy surged through his canals. Splurt after splurt, wave after wave, his essence surged forth, all his male seed began to flood the bedspread and the sheets, empyting his balls. She could feel the warmth of his seed between her fingers, sticky and wet, as she continued to stroke him through the aftershocks. The heady scent of sex filled the air, she watched him as he gasped for breath, his body still trembling with the aftershocks of his release.

With a gentle motion, she reached for a nearby towel, ready to offer him comfort and care in the aftermath. She watched him intently, her eyes tracing the contours of his body as he gasped for breath, his chest rising and falling in sync with the remnants of pleasure coursing through him. He attempted to find his voice amidst the labored breaths, wanting to express his overwhelming emotions in the aftermath.

"That was...", he tried to speak, still catching his breath. "Rest now," she whispered. "No need for words. Just sleep"

A sense of serenity washed over him, and he murmured softly. "Thank you, mother." With those words, he surrendered to slumber.