Henry I Ch. 01

Rain fell against the walls of the crude, stone castle. The village below smoked, villagers wandering, picking up toppled furniture, stifling the fires. Men on horses supervised, swords in hands, watching for further signs of resistance. Nobody dared. The true victor had been declared.

Inside the castle was a different story. Laugher, clinking of metal cups, music, dancing. My men had been drinking my victory for hours and hours, spitting at the prisoners that were shackled at my feet. I was tired, yet I was more than pleased to watch my hardworking men celebrate, being much more deserving of it than me. At my feet sat the children of the former King. Two daughters, and his stubborn son. His father's head already sat atop a spike outside on the bridge leading to the portcullis, the blood still dripping against the cobbles.

Raising my hand, my advisor, Burchard, excused himself from the festivities, arriving by my side in less than a moment. "Sire?" He asked, wiping the mead from his lips.

"Take them to the dungeons. I have no use for them," I said, gesturing to the women sitting below me. "Burchard, do you know this one's name?" I gestured to the young man sitting at my feet.

"Lothar, Sire."

"Have him washed and brought to my chamber." I said, Burchard nodded obediently. He whistled to the guards at the door, they left their posts, grabbing hold of the women, beginning to drag them away. The son called out for them, wrestling with his chains to no avail, the women screaming his name. Burchard whispered something to him, the son frowned angrily, barring his teeth, spit bubbles forming in the corner of his mouth. His sisters screams echoed in the halls still, as he himself was dragged from the room.

I took a sip from my chalice, water, swilling it around my mouth, slumping in my chair a little to watch over the party. The men had brought prostitutes, and obviously were drunk enough to play with them, their bare breasts man-handled, squeezed. They could keep them all to themselves, I wasn't particularly interested in women; of course, I knew that if I wanted an heir I had to entertain them, but for anything casual I preferred boys. I had had given myself the goal of having one in every place that I traveled to, but now as ruler of this new land, I was ready to settle for one. Of course, noble blood was preferable for a concubine, but casual affairs could be with whomever I felt.

It was getting late, and I was growing restless. I excused myself from the party, bade my men farewell for the night, listened to their drunken praises and promises, and made my way to my bedroom.

-----

He was sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, wrapped in a sheep-skin blanket. His brown hair had curled, his skin tanned, hands tucked inside his blanket. He didn't bother to stand upon my entrance, he simply stared into the amber glow of the flickering fire.

"You would think, being formally royal yourself, that you would know to stand in the presence of your King." I said, closing the door behind me. Silence. "Look at me, when I am speaking to you." I said in a low tone, his head turned slowly to reveal a scowl.

"Former royal? I am royalty still. My father will return and reclaim his rightful throne." He spat.

"Your father's head rests on a spike outside. He poses no threat to me."

"You lie."

"I shall have Burchard take you to visit him. If you would prefer see for yourself. Or, you can take my word."

I ventured further into the room, sitting on the end of the bed, his eyes following me all the way. I kicked my boots off in his direction, peeling off my inherited, yet bloodstained tunic, tossing it aside. He continued to scowl. "My word it is." I chuckled, resting my hand on my thigh.

"You are a barbaric pig." He hissed.

"In many ways, yes. Your father struggled to rule the land and in his feebleness he failed to protect it. Now, his daughters are sitting in my dungeon and his son stands naked in front of my fireplace. A pity, really, the kingdom has been in your family for generation after generation, and now, it is mine," I said, getting up.

I towered over him, he looked up at me, eyes so full of hate, lips full, a curl resting in his forehead, "Including you." I grabbed his arm, pulling him towards me. I held him against me, pinning his arms by his sides, he protested, cursing at me. Holding him still for a few moments, he calmed down, I hoped that he would become more reasonable.

"You protest too much." I whispered in his ear. Prying the blanket from him, it dropped to his ankles, I held him tighter so that he could feel me against him, grinding slowly as he tried to squirm out of my grasp, still cursing at me. "Ssssh. Let me show you." I cooed, putting a hand over his mouth so that I could concentrate, his teeth sinking into my fingers. My hand explored his body, pinching his skin between my finger and thumb, listening to his grunts, thrusting my hips forwards every time he tried to pull away from me. Burchard had had him shaved, just how I liked it, virtually bald with just a small patch for me to play with.

"Look at this," I said, chuckling, flicking his cock, "How many sons did your father expect you to sire with this little thing, huh? It is a very small cock for a young man your age, perhaps it grows." I smiled, rubbing his little pouch of a stomach. He wasn't resisting as much, for one he had stopped bitting on my hand, his legs had spread a little wider to allow me to firmly grasp him. "Would you like me to help you?" I removed my hand from his mouth.

"Yes Sire."

I gripped his cock firmly, jerking slowly, feeling him swell in my hand as I rocked us back and forth. He whimpered softly, no words of protest forming at his lips, instead it was tucked between his teeth.

"Sire, m-my stomach feels strange." He stammered.

"Ssssh." My method of rubbing the head of his cock, then traveling up and down the shaft, before returning to the head seemed to work. I knew that he was close, but I had the feeling that he had never experienced it before. He'd never had his little cock worked by another man's hand - probably not even by his own hand. He began to moan, thrusting into my hand, faster, faster, until he climaxed, spraying sticky white cum into the palm of my hand. I moaned with him, kissing his neck, licking my hand clean.

"My turn." I scooped him up, dropping him onto the bed. He crawled to me, little cock still hard, swinging between his legs. He looked up at me, eyelids batting.

"Sire, I've never done this before." His cheeks flushed red.

"You have to open your mouth wide, relax your throat, and breathe," I began, "I'll guide you."

He nodded, crawling closer, closing his eyes in preparation, before taking me into his hand. He jerked slowly, eyes down. I lifted his chin with my finger, eyes locked, tracing his lips with my thumb. "Let me see your mouth open." He obeyed. "Wider." He obeyed. "Perfect." I guided the back of his head down, watching his eyes widen as I went deeper, deeper into the back of his throat. He started to cough, trying to pull away but I kept his spasming throat there until he calmed.

"You can take me all the way, that is exactly how I like it." I said, closing my eyes. His soft, warm tongue traced lines up and down, up and down, before taking me back in his mouth. I was already close, but I knew that I had to pace myself to get the most enjoyment out of his virgin mouth. He suckled on it gently, head bobbing, bringing me closer, closer, milking me.

Reaching down, twisting my fingers around his curls, I guided him down, he gagged loudly, gripping my thighs. I wanted to cum in his mouth, have him show me it on his tongue, taste it. Spit dribbled from his mouth after I let go, he licked it up, opening his mouth wide to catch my cum. Jerking quickly, I moaned loudly, squeezing every last drop into his mouth.

"Swallow it, then clean up." I ordered, he gulped it down, licking every last drop from the tip. "Good boy." I said, ruffling his hair.

"Shall I leave, Sire? So that you can rest?"

"No. I want you here, with me. You stay with me."

I grabbed his arm, pulling him over to lie next to me. He smiled, my arm across his body, holding him against me, he backed up against my cock.

As disobedient as he liked to appear, I knew that Lothar could do nothing but worship his King; biological, or otherwise.