tagSci-Fi & FantasyIn the Kingdom of Smut Ch. 01

In the Kingdom of Smut Ch. 01

byHookedonPhoenix©

"Young master, please pay attention!"

Prince Martin jumped in his seat, "Y-yes, Ma'am!" he stammered, sitting up and snapping himself away from the daydream that had been tickling his mind.

His royal tutor stared at him with her piercing blue eyes from behind her small, bifocal glasses. Her fiery red hair was done up in a proper bun, and her clothing was stretched across her prim form like a textbook's bony spine. She sat straight and proper in her high-backed chair, looking for all the world like she was the headmistress at a boarding school. She stared at her only pupil with a mixture of disapproval and mild amusement.

"You're never going to learn your languages if you slouch and stare out the window, Prince. It would behoove you to pay attention, now and then. You're a grown man now- even if you don't act like it." She let a prying smile streak its way onto her face. "Though I suppose it can't be helped. We're at the end of our session yet again." She closed the ponderous tome that had been the bane of Martin's existence for the better part of three hours. "Best you get going to the Throne Room; the Queen has requested your presence for the council meeting. Do try to pay attention more, will you young master?"

The young, scrawny lordling nodded, his mop of blonde hair drifting down his boyish looks as he sheepishly agreed to her request. "I promise Aveline: I will pay more attention tomorrow."

Aveline let out a sigh, "Yes. You said that last time, Prince Martin. At least you're consistently disobedient."

"Not when I can help it." He replied, grinning at her and giving her a quick, affectionate hug after standing up. Stiffly formal, Aveline bristled at the casual unceremoniousness of the touch, though she returned it reluctantly. Adding to the affection Martin kissed the beauty on the cheek. He felt a set of trailing fingers slip along his lower back and gently grope at his nethers from behind, her hands cupping his balls through his tight fitting nobleman's outfit. He nearly jumped from the contact.

"I hope you can 'help' it tomorrow." She whispered coyly into his ear, "Or perhaps I'll try a new trick you haven't seen, before." She laughed at his embarrassed expression and gave him a light slap upon his bottom. "Now off with you! Elsewise Yasu might discipline me for holding your highness up."

"In more ways than one." Martin said, brushing himself off and planting another caring kiss onto Aveline's blushing face. He skipped away before she could get him in her clutches again. "See you tomorrow, Aveline!"

"-And you as well, Prince Martin." She said to his back as he left.

Stepping out of the book-strewn labyrinth of Aveline's quarters, Martin skidded to a stop in front of the woman who stood waiting impatiently for the Prince to arrive. The pale girl, whose bare feet save for small wooden sandals tapped impatiently against the ground with every second he was not there, turned like a whirlwind to face him when he left the doorway.

"You're late, Prince." Yasu said, her angular eyes tightening in displeasure. "You're going to keep the Queen waiting with your tardiness."

"One of these days, I'm going to get you to just call me Martin." He replied, flashing a warm smile at her. She remained stoically grim; it was her natural look. "How was your walk, Yasu?"

She was like a figure from another world. Her pallid body was slim, compared to the often buxom beauties who populated the Kingdom of Norelon. Her hair was a faded black, as though dappled in smoke, which trailed down just to the edge of her neck in long, needle-straight lines. Across her narrow waist was strapped a mismatched pair of curved blades in black sheaths, distinctly dissimilar to any of the straight-edged long swords that the local blacksmiths forged.

She wore no armor, despite being a bodyguard. Instead strapped around her upper body was a T-shaped, straight lined robe that segmented in shades of white and purple across her body, down to her thighs. Around her waist was secured a large sash, tied in the back, and her loose-fitting sleeves stretched almost to her wrists. Beneath that her legs were bare, seeming almost like pale, unsullied snow in the midday light. Her expression, like her appearance, was grave.

She responded almost mechanically to the Prince's query: "My walk was as long as it needed to be, Prince. But you took longer than that; we should hurry."

Martin extended his hand politely, as he'd been taught to do by his etiquette tutors. "Milady, would you then do me the honor of accompanying me to the Throne Room?"

She stared at his hand with her grey-tinted eyes, her facial expression betraying nothing. "Of course, my Prince." She said, turning on her heel and clopping away on her wooden heels. "Let me lead the way."

Prince Martin shook his head in bemusement and trailed in her wake. Despite his best efforts, and years of near-familial closeness, he had never managed to get Yasu to so much as crack a smile. He'd gotten her to scowl plenty enough. But then - everyone had managed to do that at one time or another. Despite her rough exterior, Martin was sincerely glad that his friend, bodyguard and surrogate Aunt remained a fixture of his life in the cramped confines of the Royal Palace.

Strolling forward across the inner courtyard of the keep, Martin cast a wayward eye over at the knights practicing in the drill yard, their steel smashing hard against the wooden dummies erected in the square. "Do you know why Mother has requested my presence? Most of the council meetings tend to be - shall we say - 'private' affairs."

Yasu did not look behind her as she responded, "You are not a boy anymore, Prince. The Queen wishes you to gain the same experience in rule that she is burdened with now. One day the people will call you King, and you must do your best to live up to that expectation."

Martin let out a small laugh, "Has Aveline been feeding you speeches and aphorisms again? That sounded more scripted than a ballroom dance."

"Would that you were a better dancer, then." Yasu said, casting a wry glance back over her shoulder at the Prince. "You've got the footwork of a drunken bull." The two came to a halt in front of the large doorway that led into the Throne Room. Yasu gestured gruffly with her hand, "I will be waiting for you in the foyer when you are done."

"Wish me luck." The Prince said, extending his arms for a hug. She stood and bore it like an immovable statue. Martin stepped back and gave her a resigned smile. "See you soon, Yasu."

"Hurry." Was all she said, opening the door and ushering him through.

The Throne Room was resplendent in the Kingdom's colors: banners of blue and white fluttering in the low air that streamed in from the high rafters of the room. In the center was a divot where sat a large, carved map, depicting the borders of the Kingdom across a wide diorama, with mountains, forests and other geographical features prominently displayed. Near the middle, at the apex of dozens of separate roads that came together, sat the gleaming jewel: the capital city of Tibrona. Behind the dias, up a long flight of stairs, sat a set of twin thrones, carved in marble. One was empty, signifying the Prince's late father. The other was occupied by his mother, who sat in regal fashion atop a red cushion. She beamed when she saw her son enter.

"My lords and ladies," Called the Royal Herald, his voice rising above the low murmur of different noblemen and women who crowded the hall. "May I introduce: Prince Martin, son of Queen Moiraine, future King of Norelon." The crowd burst into polite applause as the young ruler entered the room, bowing graciously before quickly stepping down the steps to the map, around which the Chief General stood.

"My son!" His mother called, a busty, mature woman whose trailing golden locks fell across her shoulders like a curtain of yellow curls. Her ripened breasts hung like grapefruits beneath her wise face. Her voice was warm and flowing like a river as she spoke. "How good of you to join us. At last this council can begin."

"It sure can." Said the General under her breath, her shoulder-length brown locks encircled by a metal headband and military uniform. She cast a sideways glance over to the young Prince who huddled around the table next to her. "Welcome back, Prince Martin."

"General Telris." Martin replied, giving her a practiced nod and doing his best to ignore the way her red eye caressed his form. She always looked like she was undressing him with her gaze, which looked at him despite the dark eye patch that covered one side of her face.

She let out a chuckle, "You can call me Miranda, Martin. I think it's the least you can do for me, after the mounting incident." Memories of their shared horseback lessons in the woods sent a blush creeping up the Prince's neck. He had learned how to ride more than just a horse in those empty glades. "Shall we begin the appraisal?" He nodded his acquiescence.

The next few hours were the boring minutiae of day to day rule: the state of the borders, the construction of new castles in the western provinces, the outbreak of a disease (sexually transmitted) in the city of Mernipol. Martin found it all intriguing, yet hard to follow since Miranda refused to let him simply observe. The General pointed out the regions of interest while surreptitiously sliding her other hand down his pants behind the table, obscuring her fumbling feel behind inches of wood table. More than once the randy General grabbed the Prince's prick and managed to jerk a few times before effortlessly pulling her hand away in time to point out the latest action on the border with the Dornalian Empire.

At last the session was over, and the Prince was hot, bothered and erect. He did his best to hide it behind the table, though he doubted he was fooling anyone. His mother, from her perch upon the throne, nodded sagely at the General. "Thank you, General Telris. We appreciate your report. We will take your recommendations into consideration." The Queen turned her head and nodded to Prince Martin, "My son, if you would. The General and us have some things to discuss." She used the collective honorific to refer to herself, "Would you mind freshening up before dinner? We have much to talk about with you."

Martin bowed and stepped back from the table, his erection clearly visible beneath his too-tight clothes. His parent did not even bat an eye, despite the cocky grin that grew on Miranda's face. "At your pleasure, mother." Queen Moiraine smiled and gestured for the door.

Stepping out into the much cooler air of the evening, Martin breathed a sigh of relief. Yasu was standing next to the door, wearing her unreadable face as she looked at him. "Shall we go?" She said, simply.

Martin nodded, wiping his sweating brow with the back of his hand. "Do you know where we are headed?"

"Your bedchambers." She said, "You have to get ready for the private dinner, tonight. The Queen informed me."

Despite his tiredness, Martin swept his hand out to indicate she go ahead of him, "Lead the way, milady." Silent, the bodyguard with the exotic appearance did as he asked. Together they moved through the winding shadows of the deepening evening, alone through the royal living quarters portion of the palace.

"You don't need to stand for it, you know." She said, unprompted, walking along next to him in an uncharacteristic show of companionship. "You are the Prince. You can order her to stop."

Taken aback, and perhaps a little bashful that he still had a hard on, the Prince played dumb, "Whatever do you mean?"

Tactlessly the bodyguard pointed down and poked his large cock through his trousers with her index finger. "That. The General is not your superior, despite how she acts. If you told her to stop, she would stop."

Martin squirmed and sighed from the feeling that arose when Yasu's finger touched his crotch. "You don't have to worry about me, Yasu. I can manage the General just fine."

Yasu scowled. "You can copulate with her well enough, but 'manage' her? I don't think so." She stopped, inhaling and letting out a frustrated breath. "I have watched over you since you were a child, young Prince. I know who you are, both your strengths and your weaknesses." She turned her head to look at him, her grey eyes sparking with sentiment. "You are a good man, with a kind heart. But you are growing up to be a King. And a King needs more than just a kind heart to see him through the world that seeks to crush him underfoot. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"...Not to have sex with Miranda?" The Prince asked, genuinely confused.

Yasu stomped her foot in frustration, the wood sandal clicking loudly against the stone floor. "No! It is not General Telris or her insides that concerns me, Prince; it is how easily you can be swayed by a smile and some affection. The General is a valued part of your court, and a trustworthy woman. But do you think that everyone who enters the Throne Room is an ally? You are going to have to learn to doubt intentions if you are ever going to safely sit the throne."

"If there ever was a threat to my life, you would be there to protect me." Martin shrugged, "Yasu... since I was born the Kingdom hasn't had a major war. Famine is nonexistent, the people are content. What is there to worry?"

"Everything, my Prince." Yasu replied. With a rough grasp of one of her hands she tore the fabric of her oriental outfit clear off one of her shoulders, brazenly exposing her small, pale breast and supple shoulder. Martin gasped as he saw the network of white, milky scar lines that ran up her shoulders and chest like an abstract art decoration. Several of the cuts went deep enough to cause ridges and fissures in her skin, displaying the true extent of her wounds. "These came when I was your age, fighting in the same war that claimed your Father's life. Do you think I expected to bear these disfigurements, when I first went off to battle?"

She pulled her sleeve up, attempting to chastely conceal her skin with what was now an unfixable rip in her shirt. Seeing it was pointless she let out an angry sigh and let it fall away. Martin couldn't take his eyes off of her chest. "I cannot protect you every single moment of your life, my Prince. Sometimes, even the greatest warriors slip and fall. On those days, you have to be able to rely on yourself to stay safe."

Instead of responding, the young Prince extended a hand out to rub a finger across the deepest scar, a long, winding cut that had bitten deep into her bicep, near the armpit. The wound was like a small canyon between her pale, otherwise blemishless skin. His thumb traced along the damaged tissue with a slow empathy that caused the bodyguard to let out a shuddering sigh. "You've given so much, for my family, Yasu." Martin murmured, his hand squeezing around her arm in compassion. "Why did you leave your home for such a faraway place?"

"To be with you." She replied, quickly reiterating: "To protect the people I care about."

"-And it's precisely that reason that I do not worry for my safety." Martin said, smiling, "I know that I can always count on you to protect me from harm. Because both of us would do anything to protect the ones we care about." Yasu shook her head rapidly, sudden tears building in her eyes that caught the young Prince off guard. "Yasu, why are you crying-?"

He was cut off by the sudden press of her small lips against his face, an astonishing move that she had never done before, not even when they'd been caught in the throes of passion during a particularly intense practice session. She gently kissed his face for several seconds before pulling away, wiping at the tears on her face. "You're such a foolish boy, my Prince."

"Martin." He said, reaching behind her head and placing a gentle kiss back onto her lips. "Call me Martin."

"Martin." She said, coughing out the word like it was something she had to get out of her system. "Whichever Gods put me here gave me a naive nephew for a charge."

Martin smiled, not taking any of her emotional utterances personally. "But would you change us for the world?"

She slowly shook her head, leaning forward and planting another wet one on him, her tongue diving into his mouth. "No." She said, pulling away and taking him by the hand, "The last thing I want you to do is change who you are, my Prince. I just want you to be safe."

In blatant disregard for anyone watching, the bodyguard led him across the small garden in the middle of the royal quarters to a bench that they had frequented often in their younger days. Sitting him onto the bench, Yasu got down on her hands and knees and began to pull at his trousers, removing the impediment to their impending passion with her pale, slender hands. In seconds the Prince's penis was exposed to the open air. Yasu did not even have the common decency to cover up her exposed breast.

"You have a half hour before the Queen expects you at dinner. Fifteen minutes should be enough time for your bath and a change." Always matter of fact, as though explaining a math problem. She put her hand around the girth of his rapidly thickening length, her pale skin contrasting with his more pinkish as she gave a few experimental strokes. The foreskin of the Prince's penile attachment shifted and peeled from his reddish head, passing like slipping skin across his shaft. She watched in fascination as he hardened in her hand, her slim grip becoming inundated with cockflesh.

Once the length had hardened to an appreciable erection, the scarred bodyguard held it out in a vertical line from his body. Her other hand reached up as she slowly jerked at his length to gently palm the top of his cockhead, moisture and precum rapidly seeping from his tip and leaving her hand glistening with sexual fluids. She moved her palm back and forth, at a horizontal angle, gently encouraging the Prince with asymmetrical strokes of his manhood.

"D-damn, Yasu." Martin said, groaning. "You're amazing, today."

"I've only just started, Prince." She said, no hint of jest or irony in her voice. She was blushing, though only slightly, and though her eyes stared hungrily at his erection, she retained her stoic demeanor. Her palm began to move at a slightly faster rate, rolling his head around on her skin like he was a ball in the hands of an expert sportsman. She leaned forward, removing her hand from his length long enough to brush a few stray, black locks from her hair before turning her head to the side and planting a heavy kiss to the middle of his shaft.

Her palm became a joystick-grasp of the top of his cock, her thumb moving over the top of it to tease his slit as she shifted her thumb up and down, spreading the dribbles of precum that now came in small streams from his cock. Her other hand resumed the jacking, moving at a faster pace now. Martin felt the tightening of his loins as he felt the first wave of arousal begin to break across him like the surf on a windy beach. "Ah!" Martin groaned after a particularly vigorous stroke, "Y-you know exactly how I like it, Yasu."

She continued like this, her hand moving faster and faster until it all became too much for the young Prince. At the last moment she removed her thumb from his slit, releasing him like a hose that had been bottled up. He jerked in his seat, his prostate tightening as he felt the first load blast off upwards from the vertical angle and spew like a geyser in random directions, each new spurt landing somewhere different on his body. Yasu stared into his eyes as he came, some of the sticky white liquid expending itself across her hand.

"You have amazing potency," His bodyguard said casually, licking the cum from her stained hands, "But you lack stamina in individual sessions; if you can master it, you will be irresistible."

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