Sidetracked Cynthia

The twenty-one-year-old warlord gazed intently at the fair-haired middle-aged woman. She was very much worth looking at. Her short pants revealed finely tuned legs, her open blouse, and the tee-shirt behind it displayed the fact that she had an ample bosom. The young warlord favored older women. That was, perhaps, an inevitable result of his upbringing. His life had been proscribed and surrounded by women of middle years. Only those women who had borne children and raised them for a certain number of years could serve as matrons in the royal household. Since Kiron had been a small boy, they had bathed him, they had dressed him, they had undressed him. When it came time for him to be initiated into manhood, one was chosen by lot to deflower him. Even to this day, women of a certain age bathed and tended to him. All his baths ended with an exhilarating hand job. Rarely was he given greater release. The matrons kept him on a strict schedule tied to the phases of the moon. His requests for more were ignored. The head matron pointed out that her order had preceded Kiron's grandfather and would, no doubt, still be serving the throne when Kiron's grandchildren were dust.

This woman, however, was outside to tight chain of command of the matrons. All of whom attended to him with a sense of duty, not joy or any real interest in him as a man or lover. The sex was perfunctory at best on their part. Afterward, they patronized him by declaring him the greatest lover they had ever had, like trained parrots! What he wouldn't give for a woman untainted by the strictures and restraints of the palace!

Kiron knew that he should focus his interest on younger women, ones who could more likely provide him an heir. The daughter of this woman was certainly lovely, but she, like others of her age, did not arouse him in the same way her mother did. Here was that something he'd dreamed about for a very long time, a vital, beautiful older woman outside the grip of the matrons. He had gone to war. He had killed men in hand-to-hand combat. He was certainly no longer a child, he had earned and deserved to wield his authority! How was he ever going to become an authentic lover of women if had never known the pleasures of a real one? The matrons were certainly women, but even the most attractive lacked authenticity. The matrons formed a closed circle whose chain he desperately needed to break! It was time he became the ruler he was destined to be. The possibilities delightfully unspooled in his mind.

Cynthia felt the hot gaze of the lad on the throne. His black shirt was tight enough to reveal that he was finely and powerfully muscled. He was remarkably handsome, with black hair and flashing grey eyes. There was a scar below his right eye that only enhanced his attractiveness while still imparting menace. An authentic bad boy, not a poseur. He was the sort of man who attracted attention. The sort of man that a younger version of Cynthia would have done anything to get interested in herself. She read the familiar look in the lad's assessment and felt a shiver course along her spine. The trophies of war about the room, the muscular uniformed men, the suits of armor, and the surely authentic skulls affixed to the walls and ceiling, made it very clear to Cynthia that she and her children were in a precarious situation. On top of all that, to be objectified by a boy not much older than her own son. It was surreal!

She was still trying to make sense of things. What had happened to the world she knew? The landscape had not changed, but what happened to the twenty-first century? She and Doug and Lisa, her children, had been exploring a cave in a canyon in Arizona. There was a slight tremor when the three vacationers hurried out of the cave, they found all... THIS! Armed men on horseback and wheeled vehicles surrounded them. Doug had resisted being taken into custody. He was quickly overpowered. The leader of the soldiers gazed harshly at Cynthia and Lisa and informed them that he would slit Doug's throat if they did not willingly submit to being transported to the palace. A dusty drive ended at an oasis where a walled city reared up. In the center, carved from white marble, sat an opulent structure occupied by the young man who was introduced as "His supreme excellency merciless warlord Kiron, IV, protector of the realm, and holy champion."

Finally, the arrogant lad spoke,

"That is quite the tale, woman. However, it is clearly fiction. Far more likely, you are a trio of spies and saboteurs. I may be young, but I have quite the list of enemies. I killed that nauseating King Peter in close combat and his people vowed revenge. How do I know you were not sent by him?"

"We are not spies, sire!" returned Cynthia.

"The practice of all armies at all times is to summarily execute spies as soon as they are uncovered."

"No, sire!" pleaded Cynthia as she fell to her knees before the ornate throne.

Inwardly Kiron smiled. His men had already deduced that they were not spies. A search had turned up no weapons or contraband aside from a stubby knife. They claimed that they had left backpacks at the entrance to the cave they were spotted exiting from, but nothing had been found in proximity to it. The lad with them was clearly no experienced fighter. The women seemed sincerely stunned and confused, quite unlike genuine spies.

"Why should I not carry out this routine order?"

"Because, sire, we are innocent!"

"Would you stake your life on that? Would you do whatever I ask so that the axe does not fall?"

"Name it, sire!"

"Very well. I shall have you. In exchange for that, your son and daughter will be unmolested and given as much freedom as permitted in my realm."

With tears in her eyes, the still lovely wife and mother nodded her assent.

"I need to hear it from your own lips, woman."

"Ye.. yes, sire." she uttered.

"Splendid!" he turned to address the assemblage in the throne room, "According to reports, the son is a woeful fighter, he does however appear strong and healthy, find a place for him in the infantry. Place the daughter in the custody of the chambermaid, and have the mother prepared for my pleasure."

Cynthia knelt there in stunned silence. Surely, she was dreaming! She would awake any moment, she had to wake up! Still, the tableau before her remained stubbornly unaltered. The sharp point of a blade pressing against the small of her back ended her reverie.

She watched as eighteen-year-old Doug was escorted in one direction at knifepoint by several soldiers. Twenty-year-old Lisa was led off in the opposite direction by a harsh-looking older woman. She gazed up at Kiron. He smiled at her lustily. The possessor of the blade at Cynthia's back coughed politely. Cynthia raised her hands above her head as she returned to a standing position. Two soldiers, most likely officers, led her off in yet a third direction. "Is this really happening?" she asked herself for perhaps the ten-thousandth time. She was Alice through the looking glass and she had met the red queen! After a long walk down hallways and staircases, she was turned over to a group of sour-looking women about her own age. The Chief Matron, denoted by her maturity and starched uniform, looked at her dismissively,

"Some Heriot trick, I venture. But youth does not give insight. What is your name woman?"

"Cynthia, Cynthia Reynolds."

"Harumph! Strip off and be quick about it!"

"What?"

"Are you deaf? You certainly cannot be bathed while dressed. Those fashions! Ugh! Designed to appeal to the king's eye. You'll probably smother him in his sleep or slit his throat while he is dreaming. It would serve the little tyrant right! Now, I won't ask again. Get naked!"

Cynthia stood in a daze. The matron slapped her. Hard!

"Stop wasting everyone's time or I have two of royal guards hold you down and cut those rags off!"

Resignedly, Cynthia bent and untied her hiking boots. She removed each in turn then withdrew her socks. She stood her half-unbuttoned cotton blouse came off next. She tugged the red tee-shirt up and off. For a long moment, she held it against her body before revealing her opalescent brassiere.

"What in the world?" injected the Matron.

With fumbling fingers, Cynthia unclasped it and allowed it to fall to the floor. Rolling her eyes heavenward she unclasped the belt buckle undid the button at the hem and stepped out of the shorts. She was clad now in just her knickers, white and lacy. She tugged these down, revealing that she came by her blond locks naturally.

"The king does have a good eye; I will give him that. Turn."

Cynthia performed a slow pirouette, revealing a trim lean body that bore only faint signs that its owner had given birth. There was just the slightest sag at the belly. The breasts were still full and firm, gravity had not yet had its way with this woman. The matron considered her prettier than any of the women who worked for her. It made her suspect this woman even more.

"Follow me!" she barked.

Cynthia found herself in a steam-filled room with a gigantic tub. Uniformed women washed her head to toe, provided a first-class pedicure and manicure, colored her nails an electric blue, and expertly washed, set, and styled her hair. The women were experts at makeup as well. To her considerable displeasure, they confiscated her earrings and made her hand over her wedding and engagement rings. She wondered if she would ever see either them or Ted again. Her only moment of levity during her preparations was contemplating her current predicament to her husband, "A funny thing happened when I was on vacation with the kids, honey..."

The idyll of beautification ended with Cynthia in a practically painted on electric blue top too large to be a bandeau but too small to be a bustier, electric blue skimpy knickers, thigh-high black boots with punishing heels that were at least a half-size too small, and a hairband with black feathers sprouting from it. As she gazed at her reflection, Cynthia thought that a hooker stared back at her, this was immediately followed by the thought that Ted would, without question, adore her in it. No doubt, the terror Kiron would as well. She began psyching herself up for the sex that was certain to be in her immediate future. She knew that she had to appear enthusiastic, both for her own sake and that of her children. Butterflies the size of Mothra, fluttered in her tummy.

To her surprise, everything then was hidden by a concealing electric blue robe. Biting her lower lip, Cynthia was led down a shorter hallway to a large oaken door. The matron pushed a button, and a voice was heard through a speaker above it.

"Yes?"

"The foreigner is prepared, sire."

"Send her in."

The door swung open automatically. The Matron pushed Cynthia over the threshold. The door closed behind her. Cynthia stood in an awkward position. The room was huge and ornately furnished. That it was a bedroom was confirmed by the huge circular mattress and bedstand just beyond the fireplace. Kiron sat at a table festooned with two plates of sumptuous-looking food. He had changed clothes and now wore a black tunic open to the navel, revealing nearly all his muscled and tattooed torso. The breath caught in Cynthia's throat.

"Ah, the woman of the hour. Welcome to my private quarters. As for myself, I dislike making love on an empty stomach, care to join me?"

Kiron held the chair for her. Hoping to postpone the inevitable, if possible, Cynthia settled herself. He occupied the chair opposite. He hoisted what was obviously a solid gold goblet and offered a toast.

"To new beginnings!"

Cynthia took up her own goblet and clinked it against his. The wine was exceptionally good.

"Let me start by saying that you are amazingly beautiful, Cynthia. How did you come to be wandering about one of my troop encampments?"

The blonde housewife began to repeat her earlier tale of a spontaneous exploration of a cave while on vacation with her children before they left for college, but the young king cut her off.

"We have already established that tale is fiction, fair one. Tell me something truthful such as your age and where you were born."

"Sire, I just turned thirty-nine, this trip was not only a vacation but a birthday excursion as well. This ending to it however is nothing I could have predicted in a million years. I was born in Leeds England. I'm sure you have heard of it?"

"No such place exists. At least I am unaware of it. Now, assuming it does exist, what was your life like there?"

"There's not much to say. I worked as an accountant for several architecture firms. Driving from office to office in the tri-county area. Freelance CPA to the building trades. I set my own hours mostly so I could spend lots of time with my kids. Lisa is in her second year at Bucknell, in the States, and Doug is going, or rather was going to start at the University of Cumbria in the fall. With Ted on an undercover assignment for the foreseeable future, the kids and I decided to take a hiking vacation."

"Ted?" questioned Kiron.

"My hu... a friend. A good friend."

Kiron read through the subterfuge.

"You belong to me now. I don't know who filled your head with these strange ideas and words. It is almost convincing." he chuckled and then announced, "I have updates on your children. The girl has settled in with the chambermaid's staff. The uniform looks quite attractive on her. I met with her and explained that the more she applied herself the gentler I would be with you. Last I heard, she was happily polishing glasses and silverware. As for your son. He's not much now but the sergeant says he thinks he can make a warrior out of him. His resentment seemed to fade when it was explained that his resistance would result in you receiving a beating."

"That's awful! I didn't raise my son to be a soldier!"

"Is that so? Perhaps I should end his life now and save my sergeants and officers the bother."

"No!"

"He has a chance to be a warrior, to fight and conquer under my colors."

"And a chance to die!"

"I fight alongside my men. A hero's death means a heavenly reward, angelic praise, and the bride of his dreams."

"We don't share your beliefs."

"That does not matter! Now, our food grows cold."

Cynthia avoided the penetrating gaze of the young king and focused on her food. The dish, whatever it was, was delicious. She soon found herself practically shoveling it in. She took more sips of the wine. It was clear that it had a high alcohol content despite its sweetness. The older woman understood that all of this would be easier if she was sufficiently blitzed. She drained her goblet and asked for a refill. To her disappointment, the lad only filled it halfway.

"I'll not have you running away from me," he stated firmly. "So, you live in a mythical land, claim to actually have an independent profession which, as a woman, is, of course, impossible, and deny the existence of the man who impregnated you. What else are you hiding? I will find out, best to tell me. But we will dispense with those issues for now, what do you find appealing in a man?"

Cynthia met Kiron's intense glare and flushed, causing the arrogant ruler to smile widely.

"I am attractive, am I not?"

Cynthia nodded, "But you are so young."

"Why should age be a concern?"

"You could be my son."

"I assure you; I am NOT your son. I'm the most man you have ever had."

Cynthia received that blankly.

"I took the life of the man who did this to me," he said as he pointed to his facial scar, "Can the man who sired your children say the same about his wounds?"

A chill danced along Cynthia's spine, reminding her of the danger she found herself.

"Well, no, my husband is not a killer."

"Then he is thin-blooded. No wonder his son is a milksop and his daughter rebellious."

"Please, sire. Do not insult them."

"I think we are finished dining." He rang a bell, and a uniformed matron entered the room and began policing up the table settings.

"Stand for me woman."

Cynthia found her footing on the tight, towering boots. The matron and her cart exited the room.

"Remove the robe."

Cynthia took a deep breath, held it, and slowly released it as her hands went to the knot on her obi. The electric blue robe fluttered to the floor.

"Astounding!" gasped the young king. "Your life was wasted in the eternity before. Beauty such as yours should be permitted only to kings such as myself."

Cynthia heard the praises but had no idea how to react.

"Kiss me." commanded the king.

This order, while expected, still hit with the impact of a punch to the solar plexus.

"Surely, you are not shy?" He closed the distance between them and swept Cynthia up in his powerful arms and lowered her to his lips. His kiss was powerful, demanding, and well-practiced. When Kiron returned her to the floor, Cynthia's head was swimming.

"You cannot deny that you enjoyed that, woman."

Cynthia's fingers went to her buzzing lips.

"That is only the natural reaction to encountering a true man and powerful warrior."

"Sire," said Cynthia weekly, "have mercy."

"Why should I show you that? Mercy is not in my vocabulary."

Even though Cynthia was a tall woman, the young monarch easily swept her up in his arms and toted her to the large round bed, and set her down atop the covers.

"It is time for you to become fully unveiled to me, both physically and emotionally."

"Sire!"

Each long boot was removed in turn. As they came off, Kiron kissed the length of each one before sucking on each toe. The scanty top came away in his hands. He savored the sight of Cynthia's luscious breasts for a moment before he began expertly teasing and squeezing each one. To Kiron, this woman was an absolute delight. Her reactions so obviously unrehearsed and unplanned truly were the stuff of which his dreams were woven. He kissed her passionately and deeply for quite a span of time. He paused and pulled her to her feet.

"Undress me," he commanded.

Although she and Ted had made love countless times and had lovers before marriage, Cynthia wondered if she was up to the challenge of this youth. With trembling hands, she tugged off his tunic. Her fingers roved over his tightly corded muscles. He stepped out of his shoes.

"You are not finished yet, beautiful."

Wishing she was anywhere in the universe, Cynthia nonetheless fell to her knees, opened the trousers, and tugged them down and off. The buff king wore no undershorts. There, fully erect and uncut was the largest penis Cynthia had ever encountered with her own eyes.

"Taste me," he ordered.

Wondering what had come over her and where Ted's faithful wife had disappeared to, she took a tentative lick of his throbbing manhood. The youth tasted just fine. Her right hand grasped his balls and gently squeezed as she took as much of him as she could accommodate in.

"Good," he purred.

Cynthia's blonde head began sliding back and forth, the feathers in her headband tracing invisible patterns in the air. The king continued to purr with delight. He held her head fast as he came.

"Consume me," he commanded.

Cynthia swallowed the entire load and then displayed her open, empty mouth.

"Perhaps that will satisfy him," thought Cynthia even while she realized that this very powerful young man had only just begun on her.

"Who and what will this man make me?" cried Cynthia's soul.

"Excellent!" cried Kiron as he pulled the blonde, older woman back to a standing position. A moment later, he was erect once more and they were back in the bed.

Using only his teeth, he tugged off the electric blue knickers, revealing her golden thatched box. Kiron parted her legs and dined expertly on her nether regions. Whatever resolve Cynthia had left deserted her under the astounding oral assault of her young lover. She grabbed the sheets and uttered a string of syllables known to no language on earth and exploded all over the young king's face. He smiled, wiped his mouth with the back of his left hand, and then positioned his manhood over her sex. It slid in without resistance, filling Cynthia as she had never been filled before. He worked on her for a long time, forcing two more orgasms from her before he released himself deep inside her womb.