Royal Couplings Ch. 01byJustmyimagination©
1. The Queen's Boudoir
The King of Verdanland sat quietly chewing viciously on an unlit cigar. Thoughts of recent setbacks in the war with Sardinia plagued his peace. The frontline retreated with each encounter as the enemy army slowly approached pressing toward his capitol. His armaments and soldiers were vastly superior to that of Sardinia, but their numbers were unmanageable. Even his introduction of a new weapon, the gun, only delayed the approaching swarm. His blacksmiths, working day and night could not make enough of them to turn the tide. It was clear he could not defeat Sardinia's army alone.
He waited impatiently as his Queen readied for the royal reception just beginning downstairs. Protocol honored them to be the last to arrive, even for this one, honoring someone else.
The King had appealed to the neighboring kingdom of San Bonito to form an alliance against Sardinia. High in the mountains, San Bonito considered itself invincible. The King's emissaries had tried to convince the King of San Bonito of the self-evident truth that once Verdanland was overrun, Sardinia would set its sights on San Bonito. The King of San Bonito scoffed at the possibility of invasion, but offered a condition by which San Bonito would enter the war on Verdanland's side: a distasteful condition.
Many nobles and princes had come from lands near and far to woo the King of Verdanland's daughter. Known for her long thick red hair, soft, smooth, delicate skin and lovely form, every man, marriageable and not, was interested in her. As the sole heir to the King and Queen of Verdanland, she stood to inherit the throne. Great wealth and power would be added to the man she married. Repeatedly, she shunned each suitor. All were interested only in power, money or the chance to mine the treasures that lied beneath her skirts.
The King, never satisfied with the quality of any suitors, consistently backed his daughter's wishes. He wanted her husband to be worthy of all he would gain, most importantly, her reciprocated love and devotion, an unalterable prerequisite, until now.
His Kingdom, and the lives of his Queen and family, was mortally threatened. The offer of San Bonito seemed to be one he could not refuse. Already rejected by the King and Princess of Verdanland, the Crown Prince of San Bonito saw opportunity when the King's emissaries arrived in his father's court bearing his appeal. It was not difficult for the Prince to persuade his father to accept alliance upon the marriage of his son to the Princess of Verdanland. No kingdom would be as powerful as San Bonito when the power and wealth of Verdanland was added to the realm.
Though mortified, the King of Verdanland agreed to allow Prince Bonito to meet with his daughter again. Which was better, he wondered, joining his daughter to a man she did not love and ceding the kingdom to San Bonito, or defeat by the cruel and brutal armies of Sardinia who would crush the kingdom and slaughter its people?
When the King explained the situation to his noble daughter, her spirits sank. She remembered Prince Bonito with a grimace.
"Don't throw away your hope of happiness, daughter," the King Consoled. "Merely consider the offer. I'll not cast my pearl before the swine without your consent."
But he knew what she would do.
The King lit his cigar and leaned back in his chair. With violent puffs, he closed his eyes and tried to remember Prince Bonito. He could not. All of them were alike in their unworthiness.
"The Queen awaits you, Your Majesty."
Daniel, his personal steward had slipped into the room quietly.
The King sighed, and smashed out his half burned cigar. He swished a shot of brandy in his mouth before swallowing. His wife did not approve of his smelly habit.
His eyes sparkled and his long thick red hair flowed in the breeze of his brisk pace as he strode powerfully toward the Queen's boudoir. Thinking of her caused him to push his worries of the war and unholy alliance to the back of his mind. He adored her and she him. He never failed to be enchanted with her presence. They strengthened each other when they were together.
He was dressed in clothes reserved for royalty in Verdanland. His loose fitting blouse was dyed a hue of scarlet unique to the King and his immediate family. It was tucked into a rich purple kilt, its flowing pleats hanging to his knees. Men of the immediate royal family were the only ones who could wear such a garment, and the King alone could wear a purple one. A golden sash crossed his chest. At his hip he wore a brilliantly polished gold ceremonial sword. Richly sheathed in a scabbard heavily jeweled, its complex metalwork was thickly encrusted with every precious stone. He wore no crown. These clothes were the mark of his sovereignty.
He rarely entered the Queen's boudoir. She stored her finer garments and jewels there. So there she prepared for official functions, such as this reception.
Rarely, she retreated there for an occasional nap when the King was busy. Usually, she slept in the King's chamber where her arms would be available to his slightest want of tenderness, or her flesh ready to be consumed in his most urgent, passionate lusts.
The King raised his hand to knock on the door, but was interrupted by another steward.
"Your Majesty, beg your pardon," he said bowing.
"What is it?"
"Your personal guard is unavailable and your arrival at the reception will be delayed if your wish to wait for a substitute. The guard has a severe illness in his family and begs your mercy."
"Mercy?" The King laughed. "I'd consider a medal! How long are we delayed? Days? Weeks, I hope?"
"About half an hour, your majesty."
"Too bad. Not long enough for a medal, I'm afraid. Darling?" he called now pounding on the door to his wife's boudoir.
"Come in, my lord."
He heard her gentle call and whisked in, smiling broadly as the stewards waited discreetly outside.
"Good news, my love!" His booming voice filled the chamber. "We are delayed a half an hour!" He looked about the room.
Wall sconces with thick candles cast a warm light mixed with the light of the setting sun pouring in from the open balcony doors, causing the textured stones, painted rich dark rose, to glow. A cool breeze tossed long gauzy curtains in its gentle, surging gusts.
The back wall was covered with drawers and cabinets filled with the Queen's best clothing, accessories and jewelry. The walls were covered in paintings; still lifes of bright sensuous flowers. Vivid colors invoked the sweet fragrance of each blossom. The flower's stamens and pistils, its capacity to pollinate, produce seed and multiply, lusciously depicted to starkly parallel the visual similarity to human organs designed for the same purpose. Interspersed were romantic nudes, beautiful women in various poses and venues waiting for or embraced in the arms of a lover. Each one pulsed with tender but urgent desire.
One corner, beside the balcony doors, was mirrored. A tub sat on the other side of the doors in front of a low window with filmy curtains flowing in the gentle breeze, looking over their private, walled garden.
The room was furnished with a richly upholstered, armless chair, a tall wide full length mirror on a stand and a soft cozy double bed with a tall canopy and satiny curtains, open and fluttering.
Vast expanses of the rich golden wood floor lie exposed in the large room, with the exception of a large thick fur rug at the foot of the bed.
When the King laid eyes on the Queen, he froze. The sight of her took her breath away.
The Queen's long dark hair cascaded in thick waves over her bare shoulders and down her back into wisps reaching to her waist. Her bright blue eyes sparkled, and glowing pink cheeks highlighted her delicate face.
On her head was a delicate crown encrusted with scores of tiny diamonds. On front was a large ruby the same shade as the King's blouse, marking her as his bride. Tiny white and blue wild flowers with tender green leaves were entwined in her hair.
The Queen wore a very light sheer gown, pale blue with a matching thin soft under layer of silk. The neckline plunged deeply into her cleavage revealing the smooth soft roundness of her tender breasts as her areole coyly hid just under the edge of the fabric. The tailored bodice was overlaid with white lace dotted with jeweled sequins, hugging the curve of her waist over her hips, fitting smoothly and tightly over her firm bottom, where each buttock formed a distracting outline.
The silk under layer stopped above mid-thigh to cover her womanly charms, her long toned legs showing through the flowing skirt, billowing below her knees. The skirt was split on one side, extending all the way up her leg, barely below the juncture of her thighs. She stood on one leg so the other emerged bare and smooth, exposed through the slit all the way up its smooth length. Well above the middle of her bare thigh was a white lacy garter with long thin strips of dark purple ribbon dangling to the bottom of the skirt. It was the same fabric used on the King's kilt and only the Queen could wear it. A treasured insignia of her office, it was to be clearly displayed.
Her legs were perched on extravagantly high heels with silver straps. Silver cords wrapped up her legs to mid calf.
With a playful smirk, the Queen spoke. "Are we really delayed? A half hour?" she asked as she began to move slowly and seductively toward her breathless husband.
"Whatever..." she whispered, brushing her body into his, "...shall..." she breathed, softly embracing his neck in her arms, "...we do?" She blew the words from her soft moist lips and gazed into his eyes submissively.
She felt the King stiffening under his kilt. She rubbed her hips into it and bit her lip.
"Do you suppose we have time to...?" The King left his sentence unfinished.
"I have two more bits of good news for His Majesty," she said as he smiled hopefully. "First, my seamstress installed a new item on my gown called a 'zipper.' It makes dressing... and undressing... much more convenient."
The King embraced her and reached down to kiss her. She tilted her head back. Tenderly, they brushed lips and she kissed him deeply. She turned her cheek to his longing lips. One of his hands wandered over her hip to her butt. He grabbed her and kneaded her.
"Secondly," she continued, "I am wearing absolutely nothing under this gown."
She felt the King's hardness suddenly surge. His erect penis lifted the pleats of his kilt, to the Queen's delight. She reached down under the garment and gently grasped his rigid erection.
"In short," she concluded, "one half hour is plenty of time."
"Good news to be sure, my love," he answered. "Where is this 'zipper' you speak of?"
She looked up at him. Smiling, she turned slowly around, gathering her long hair in front of her.
"It's the metal trail up the back of my gown," she said.
His hands were occupied groping and fondling her body with special attention to her breasts.
"I see," he said as one hand dropped to fondle her vulva through the thin fabric.
"There's a handle at the top. Pull it gently down."
He suddenly grabbed her mound of Venus causing her to leap and gasp in surprise. "Gently!" she laughed.
"Ah, yes! I see," exclaimed the King as he traced the curve of her back up to the handle.
Then the Queen, facing forward, saw they were in front of the mirrored wall, exactly where she wanted to be. Dramatically, she raised her arms, striking a glamorous pose as the King tugged her zipper down.
The King noticed her sexy reflection and smiled at her over her shoulder. More and more of her bare back became exposed in front of him as the gown opened. The Queen was pleased with the delighted look in the King's face. His attention was happily divided between the alluring front view she held for him and the emerging expanse of her bare skin. He slid the zipper down her spine over the small of her back just to her hips where it reached the end of its trail.
The Queen dropped her arms to her sides as the King kissed her on the cheek from behind. One of his big rough hands searched in front of her chest, dove under her gown and cupped a breast while he reached with the other down into the back of the gown to her bare buttock.
"I am pleased to note," the King teased, "that I find you are indeed wearing nothing under this gown."
He released the Queen's breast and plunged his hand under the neckline of the gown. He dragged his hand down her ribs and over her tummy; down, down into the Queen's soft pubic hair and toyed with the hot swelling flesh of her vaginal lips.
"If the King wishes," she said, "he can see with his eyes what his hand has found."
He bent and kissed the base of her neck hard with lots of tongue.
She giggled and flinched, dipping from under his lips as she took a half step forward.
He reached to her shoulders and gently rubbed her soft skin, feeling the tiny microscopic hairs with his fingers and firmly deeply kneading her shoulder muscles in his firm grip.
She closed her eyes and sighed as he carefully examined the texture of her skin, the shine of her hair, the shape of the contours of her neck, shoulders and jaw, gently, lightly stroking each feature with wonder uncommon for the years of their marriage.
He pleasured the Queen like this for several minutes until she opened her eyes, looking into his in the mirror.
"Isn't the gown in your way?" she asked.
He glanced back, meeting her reflected smile. Gently placing his fingers on her neck, he slowly stroked down over her shoulders, pushing the straps of her gown before his hands, stroking her shoulders as he removed the gown's thin supporting cords from her arms. The gown slipped down over her flesh, falling to the floor in a rumpled circle of silk and frothy fabric.
Her legs were straight with her ankles crossed, her arms to her sides. Naked, she wore only her shoes and the emblems of her royalty; the Queen's purple-ribboned garter with its long strips dangling lightly over her leg, and the diamond encrusted crown with the ruby marking her as the King's.
Her long dark hair poured over one shoulder drowning a breast, but its twin stood smooth, round, firm, its dark nipple stiff and straight and proud to be revealed. The muscles of her back formed a sharp "V" shape spreading from her shoulders, across her upper torso, converging around her waist to its point under the dark fur between her legs. Her whole body, more than the sum of her parts, was a magnificent instrument for the provocative art of seduction. She panted with breathless desire, her bosom rising and falling enticingly as she felt her heart beating wildly in her breast.
She watched the King in the mirror as his eyes slowly took in the vision of her nudity. He gazed carefully upon each part of her flesh in the mirror, watching her body, flushed and trembling, respond to his look and his touch. He diverted his eyes from the mirror, looking directly at the swells and curves of her back muscles, her naked spine, her round bottom. Hungrily, he reached out and stroked a smooth firm buttock.
"Is the king pleased?" she asked.
"With you? Always, my love."
She turned slowly around in his arms as his hands traced her waist. From her hips, he raised both hands to her ribcage and held her.
The Queen reached for the belt holding the King's kilt and unbuckled it. She unfastened the kilt at the waist with nimble fingers and dropped the garment to the floor.
The King's hard-on stood stiffly before her, rigid and red with his hot arousal.
Slowly the Queen lowered herself in front of him. Balanced on her toes, leaning on her heels, she looked up into his eyes. She brought her face near his thick erection and gently brushed her cheek along his shaft, her lips slightly parted. She allowed the tip of his penis to trace her face, the side of her nose, forehead, eyebrows and eyelids leaving strands of thick clear fluid on her skin. His musky scent thrilled her as she felt her own desire sparking inside her. As his sensitive skin crossed her lips, she blew the gentle soft breeze of her warm breath over his shaft, his testicles.
She reached with one hand and clenched his hard shaft, squeezing it, gently at first, then harder and harder until she had clamped down on it with all her might, even raising herself by his extended member. She held the end of his shaft to her cheek. As she spoke, her lips mouthed the side of his hard-on.
"I'm hungry, darling."
"Eat, My lady," he answered.
The Queen kissed the end of his hardness, lips puckered and barely parted. Back and forth she rocked, allowing his glans to enter her mouth in small increments. She tasted the salty flavor of his pre-cum, feeling its sticky texture on her tongue. She began circling his glans with her tongue as she brought his erection further into her mouth, deeper inside her oral cavity. Halfway inside her, she licked the underside of his shaft as she slowly stroked its full length with her wet lips and the moist membranes inside her mouth. In and out, she took him, bobbing her face smoothly over his vibrant sex.
She glanced up at him as she continued going down. His eyes were focused on the image in the mirror. Her face was full of his powerful erection, jaw dropped, cheeks hollowed, lips stretched about the full diameter of his rod as she sucked him in, drew him out, in, out, in, out.
Again, she felt an electrifying shock emanate from the depths of her womanhood. Her own desire demanded attention. She reached down and touched its source. She found herself warm, moist, engorged with greater desire than she realized. She brushed her clitoris. It was stiff and immediately exploded with a brief, intense trembling spasm. She slipped a finger into her vagina, swirling it inside, coating it with her slick juices before drawing it out over her clitoris. Keeping a finger on it, she sucked her husband's erection, allowing the rocking of her own body to stroke her clitoris against her finger.
She moaned, her husband's penis sealed tightly in her lips. Slowly, she pulled her lips off his shaft and stroked him with her free hand.
"Bring the chair," she ordered.
She released his erection as he spun to obey, swinging the chair back, facing the mirror.
The Queen had dropped a knee to the floor, the other still raised, allowing open visible access to her exposed private pleasure. She continued stroking her clitoris while she inserted the fingers of her other hand inside her moist cavern. She took heaving breaths as she masturbated, shuddering as more tiny spasms of pleasure blasted through her body.
"Does Her Highness wish to sit?" he asked.
The Queen gasped. "No. You."
"Yes, my lady."
The King sat obediently on the chair still wearing his royal scarlet blouse and gold sash, the golden ceremonial sword still dangling at his side. He was naked from the waist down, except for his boots. His long erection extended upward from his lap.
The Queen stood, still rubbing her ravenous sex vigorously and gasping.
She turned and stepped beside the King, facing the mirror. She placed a foot nearly under the side of the chair and her nearest leg over his lap, facing the mirror, her back to him.
Watching their image in the mirror, she abandoned her clitoris and reached for his rigid shaft, pointing it between her legs. The King leaned to the side so he could see their image in the mirror, too. She held his shaft firmly up as she positioned her vaginal opening right over his pulsing member.
Slowly, she lowered herself. His hard penis pressed into her secret lips. She firmly pressed herself gently down through the initial resistance until he pierced her flesh. Inside, he found a moist, soft, smooth, warm welcome. She put her hands on his thighs in front of her and sat on his hardness, impaling herself on his cock, filling her cavity with his thick rigidness, pressing him in to the back of her deepest recess, stretching the flesh inside her body as much as she was able.