Sidetracked Cynthia

As Cynthia laid there a sated vessel in the young stranger's bed, she heard.

"Perhaps I can show mercy. That is all I will require of you... for now. Sleep."

Cynthia's heavy eyelids closed, and she was instantly in the arms of Morpheus. Not a single dream of any kind penetrated her slumber.

**

Sunlight filtered through a lattice in the ceiling bathed the bed in warmth. Cynthia awoke. At first, she was startled by her surroundings then it all came back to her. She considered the tan line where her rings had resided not twenty-four hours previously and thought herself the worst wife in the world. She took in the room. Kiron was seated at the table; it was set for breakfast. A matron was exiting the room. The fiendish despot was clad in only a pair of leather trunks. He smiled a Cynthia and gestured that she should join him. At sea in more ways than one, she tugged off the headband, slid out of bed, and found her cast-off robe from the night before. A moment later, she was seated opposite him. He seemed to read her thoughts,

"No need to speak of our lovemaking. It is enough to know that both of us were supremely satisfied."

"Sire..."

"Shush! The facilities are through that door. Then come and eat. Once we have dined, I am going to take you a few times before my royal duties call. I will see to it that you are properly attended to during the day. Come evening will we rendezvous anew."

Cynthia had trouble meeting Kiron's gaze. She had revealed so much of herself that she was sure this cocksure boy could see right through her. When she did look at him, she encountered his triumphal leer. She wanted to hate this man, part of her certainly did. She both feared and savored the prospect of making love to him again. How could she retain herself in the face of his sensual overload? She was a mature woman, she had birthed children, she had stood by her man through thick and thin, she had built a career, and she had had a husband and lovers before him, but somehow all of that was lost to her now. She shivered, but not from a chill. She imagined a day not far off, if things continued, where she would open to him like a flower, would obey, and even fall in love with this man. He was a cruel despot, a murderer, he could and might slit her throat for the tiniest of infractions. He was a man out of her time. By rights, there should be nothing appealing about him. Why then was he lodged so firmly in her mind? It wasn't just the mind-blowing sex; other forces were in effect. The fate of her children? That was only part of it.

She ate in silence while he wore a Cheshire cat grin. Damn him!

A matron came and cleared away the dishes. When the two were alone once more he took her hand and compelled her to stand.

"Kiss me," he commanded.

She kissed him with more enthusiasm than she had the night before all the while, her mind was telling herself to pull away.

She was on her knees; his trunks were off.

"Taste me," he commanded.

His seed slid sweetly down her throat even as she tried to convince herself it was vile poison.

She was as naked as he was. They were in the bed. He took her four times in little more than an hour. Missionary, Him taking her from behind, She, riding him. Her knees over his shoulders. She came each time. Cursing him even as he pulled her closer and reduced her to a puddle of pleasure between the sheets. And then he was gone.

The Chief Matron appeared in her field of vision.

"The assassin has become the prey." she chortled. A moment later,

"Come, much has to be done this day."

Cynthia was led to the bowels of the castle. In a large room, she was issued brief exercise attire and led through a vigorous and punishing exercise routine that left her drenched in perspiration. Then, she was bathed, dressed in finery, and locked in a room with a terse woman who instructed her in royal protocol and slapped the back of Cynthia's hand with a wooden rod when she felt the foreign woman was not paying sufficient attention. Lunch was with the Chief Matron, who peppered her with questions about her background. Cynthia answered as truthfully as she was able.

"Such utter poppycock! I wish the little brat would turn you over to me. I'd get the truth, even if I had to hang you from hooks and flay you alive!"

Cynthia's eyes grew large at that pronouncement.

"Fortunately, for you, the child is beguiled with you. But watch your step, whore! I can't deny him his plaything, even though I know what's best for him. But mark my words, toys have a habit of being broken. When the little jerk tires of you, I will have a free hand!"

Cynthia swallowed hard and managed to keep her lunch down.

Around what Cynthia gathered was six or so in the evening, she was led to the preparation room and pimped out for the king. This time it was leather and lace. Lacy bandeau, lacy knickers, a lacy camisole, white lace stockings with matching garter. Over this, a black leather miniskirt, a tight leather vest, and polished black ankle boots. This time, they got her foot size right. She was led back to the royal bedroom her mind abuzz. This time the king wore a formal suit.

"How was your day, gorgeous?"

"Fine, Sire"

Kiron detected the quaver in her voice.

"Something troubled you today?" he asked matter of factually.

"The Matron, sire," she sobbed. Still in emotional turmoil, Cynthia followed his with, "That woman is horrid, your excellency!"

The young king emitted a throaty laugh.

"On that we quite agree, fair one. I know that she disparages me behind my back. If I had my druthers, I'd exile her to some remote and inhospitable clime. Unfortunately, my hands are tied. The Society of Matrons has been part of castle politics for hundreds of years. They serve by a royal charter drawn up by one of my ancient ancestors which I am powerless to countermand. They DO serve a purpose and I daresay our castle would not function at all without them. As for the supreme bitch herself, she has always hated me ever since I was small. Just because she's changed my diapers as a wee one and jerked me off as an adult, that does not give her license to give me unsolicited advice. Much as I loved my dear departed father, the man was putty in her hands. She resents the fact that she cannot bully me as she did my father. By extension, she has come to despise everything I like. I'm not surprised she took it out on you."

"She threatened me with torture!"

"Oh, I'm quite sure she'd savor that. Do not worry, fair one. If she so much as lays a finger on your head, I'll produce my voluminous correspondence of sworn affidavits on the many times she has called me a bastard, a jerk, a worm, petulant, asshole, and lots of other uncomplimentary adjectives. Were I to make that public, she would have to resign in disgrace. The Society of Matrons is forgiving of their own, to a point. She has no idea that I have the goods on her. As it is, she is a masterful administrator and it serves my purposes, for the present, to leave her in her position of authority. She thinks she has supreme power, when, in reality, she has none!"

"Thank you, sire!" exclaimed Cynthia as she kissed him fully on the lips without prompting. She wanted to believe that this was a herald, that perhaps the ruthless ruler truly had a human heart and could care for others.

Kiron's expression turned serious, "Besides, if anyone were to torture you it would be me!"

Cynthia gasped.

Kiron chuckled. For now, I am content simply to torture you between the sheets!"

He winked and eyed Cynthia appreciatively head to toe.

"I must send my compliments to the wardrobe mistress; she certainly knows how to accentuate your charms."

He paused.

"Tonight, we dine elsewhere."

"Where, sire?"

"It is a surprise, gorgeous."

He produced a blindfold and affixed it over Cynthia's eyes.

"Hold on to my arm and I will guide you," he said as he kissed her lips. Judging by the sounds and sensations, Cynthia knew she was led down hallways and up flights of stairs. She felt the sun hot upon her skin and the dry desert air all about her. The Blindfold was whisked off. Kiron was standing next to her on the parapets of the castle. A sunshade stood over a table set for two. Kiron embraced her from behind and gestured. Everything in that direction, nearly to the horizon, is my realm. I'm a bit harder pressed in the other direction. The point is that escape for you is impossible. Were you able to flee my presence and somehow avail yourself of an exit to my castle, where would you go? If my men did not track you down you would, no doubt, expire in the wasteland. Who and what you were before are irrelevant. You belong to me. I have already proved what a powerful lover I am. I will only improve. Your focus now should be exclusively on serving me, accepting your status as property, and endeavoring to please me as much as possible.

He spun her around kissed her deeply and said, "I've only owned you for a brief time, Cynthia, but I am already quite fond of you. I've desired you, or someone just like for a long time. Now, promise me you will do as I ask."

"Sire," began Cynthia, "this is all so new, I am not from your world."

"Those are statements, not agreements."

"Sire..."

"Yes, or no?"

Realizing that there could only be one answer to her situation, Cynthia felt something deep inside her cry out as it died. She nodded and said, "Yes, sire. I promise."

"Splendid! Let us seal this with a kiss and then dine a meal of confirmation and commitment."

The food was lovely. Kiron was solicitous and patient, but Cynthia's mind was elsewhere. She was recalling lovers lost and freedoms stolen. It played upon her inner eye like a movie montage. Beating Rodney Henderson at strip poker. Later reveling in the fact that Rodney was such a poor player that he never saw her in less than her bra and knickers. That time she had hooked up with an anonymous Yank in Malta. Skinny dipping with Emily, Emily's boyfriend, and her own boyfriend on a college break. Meeting Ted. Losing spectacularly to Ted at strip poker on their third date. The seduction of her husband which resulted in her pregnancy with Lisa. The almost affair with Ted's best friend that ended in mutual recriminations and three blow jobs. Her walk down the aisle. The birth of Doug. That night in Las Vegas where she wore a little black dress with nothing but skin underneath at Ted's suggestion, subtly flashing folks in the casinos and the strip, before returning to their hotel room and making love like rutting animals. It was all there, so close, that and so, so much more, yet all of it was forever frustrating out of reach!

Dinner ended. A mattress had been transported to the roof of the castle. In front of Kiron's bodyguards, he took her under the stars and the pale, impassive moon. To both her horror and delight, Cynthia gave Kiron everything he asked for and more. Kiron, as a lover was a force of nature, a wildfire, or a typhoon. They slept under the open skies, against the desert chill, each naked body seeking the warmth of the other. With the dawn, Cynthia awoke a new creature. This newborn thing would take some time to form and grow into anything recognizable, but it had completely subsumed the woman once known as Cynthia Reynolds.

**

An inevitable consequence of so much unprotected sex, Cynthia stroked her protruding belly. She was about five months along. Kiron was over the moon. "If it s a son, you shall become my bride and my queen," he promised. It had been nearly a year since Cynthia and her children had arrived in this reality. She had trouble recalling her past in the UK. Well, no, that was not the case, it was simpler for her psyche to not dwell on it. Things such as Ted had gotten the snip after Doug was born, in exchange for a handmade book of blow job coupons and a promise, once it was confirmed that Ted was infertile, that he got to fulfill a fantasy she had denied him to this point. He wanted to truss her up, cut her clothes off, and pretend to ravage her. With trepidation, Cynthia agreed. It turned into one of their best times ever. Cynthia pushed the thought away. It was quickly replaced with memories of last night's passionate and intense lovemaking. When she was honest with herself, something more common with each passing day, Cynthia would admit that she was obsessed with the youthful king. Lately, it seemed, all he had to do was lay a finger on her and she came. Never had she been as sated and satisfied. In light of all the passion, even becoming a mother again after so long was less daunting.

This week promised to be a lonely one. Kiron was inspecting the troops, christening a new fort in the interior, and investigating the border. There was a chance that military action could flare up as he toured the disputed territory. That gave Cynthia pause. If Kiron was killed, her life and the life in her womb would become huge liabilities. Until a legitimate heir was secured, Kiron might lose his throne. His maternal uncle had a weak but legitimate claim on the crown. Kiron refused to marry Cynthia until he was sure she could bear him manly sons. Even if he did marry her before the blessed event, her status as a foreigner would cause much consternation and would roil the populace. She could never serve as queen solo. The people would not stand for it and the uncle or some pretender to the crown would assassinate her. It was enough to give Cynthia the heebie-jeebies.

She strode about the room that was hers when Kiron was absent. A matron had delivered her a mug of hot chocolate a quarter of an hour before. Guards stood at attention beyond her door. Cynthia had drunk most of the chocolate, felt unusually sleepy, and performed her nightly ablutions before turning into bed. As always, she slept in the nude. Kiron required this of her. The few times she had tried to wear something to sleep in, even when Kiron was absent from the castle, a matron or a guard would disturb her sleep and force her to strip off. In the end, trying for a bit of modesty or a smidgen of warmth was not worth the effort, embarrassment, or aggravation. She settled herself beneath the covers, thought of Kiron, and pleasured herself. She found that she could no longer sleep effectively until she had orgasmed before nodding off. Her final thoughts were of Kiron's magnificent tool and wondrous muscles. Her dreams were sweet.

She awoke to a feeling that something was off. Her bed felt strange, somehow less comfortable. She opened her eyes. She was not in her normal room in the castle! She sat up with a start, the bedclothes fell away revealing her still alluring pregnant body. She screamed and hastily covered herself when she realized a bearded stranger was in the strange room.

Of course, she recognized him at once, she had seen his picture many times as part of her protocol training. The man leering at her could only be King August of Heriot, the kingdom that was closest to Kiron's realm. Both countries were sworn, enemies. Kiron had killed August's brother, King Peter, in hand-to-hand combat shortly before Cynthia and her children had arrived in Kiron's realm. The leering king spoke,

"I see that the stories of your ravishing beauty are not fictions, blonde one."

"Where am I?" asked Cynthia.

"Oh, I was told that you were clever. Where else would you be but in the comforting arms of the Kingdom of Heriot?"

"What is the meaning of this?"

"As, so there is a brain behind those lovely blue eyes! Simply, your foul Kiron took the life of my brother, I have seized his precious whore and potential heir."

"Kiron won't stand for that!"

"Ah, but he will have to. To have your loveliness returned to him, the beast Kiron will release all our prisoners of war, the entirety of our land that he now occupies, and a huge financial indemnity. Anything less and you will continue to reside here, as my "guest." I will see that you are well taken care of. If you are still here at the time of your delivery, every. aid and comfort will be given to you. Kiron's bastard will have a wonderful creche and you shall be permitted to nurse and tend to it."

"Kiron will rescue me!"

"Oh, of that, I have no doubt. In fact, I'm counting on it. When he does, he will be walking into a marvelously engineered trap. I'll have his head atop a pike, and you will need a new protector and lover."

"You monster!"

"I've been called worse. Before you are bathed and allowed to dress, you will serve me with that succulent mouth of yours."

"I'd rather die!"

"Then you shall!"

He strode towards the bed.

"Assume the position!" he barked.

Her heart beating a ragged tattoo, Cynthia wrapped a blanket about herself and fell to her knees before August.

"Unveil yourself."

The blanket slid to the floor. August's stubby cock was out. With dread and fear, Cynthia performed as she was ordered. August had nowhere near the staying power of Kiron. Only a short time later, August grasped the back of Cynthia's throat, grunted, and came inside her mouth. As he withdrew, he ordered, "Swallow."

Cynthia did so, the foreign king's seed sliding bitterly down her throat.

"Excellent! I shall be along later to give your little bastard a proper poking."

With that, he hiked up back his pants and clapped his hands vigorously. A group of women entered the room.

"See to it that she is properly washed and attired. If you value your lives, you will prevent her from injuring herself or her child."

He strode from the room; a man justifiably proud of himself, which was reflected in his step and bearing.

In a daze, Cynthia was led to an adjoining room where a bath and short dress were waiting. She was fed breakfast and settled into a room with bars on the windows and a formidable door that locked behind her. Two women remained in the room with her. To kill time, they played cards.

Cynthia was too terrified to ask questions. That she would be raped when nightfall came was a certainty. Her mind a muddle, she thought of Ted but much more about Kiron. The only satisfaction she took in her predicament was in envisioning the many potential ways Kiron would execute August for daring to sully her with his disgusting person. It was also at that moment that she realized that she loved Kiron. Authentically and deeply. More than she had loved any other man in fact. She wanted the baby inside her more than ever. Kiron might not even know if she was missing yet. Even if he did know, Cynthia was positive that her rescue could not possibly come before her ravishment. Whatever happened to her, Cynthia mentally declared, she had to make sure that her baby escaped this situation intact. That meant no fighting and no resisting, to give August everything he asked. Under no circumstances could she allow him to see her cry. Nor would she plead for mercy. She was Kiron's woman. She was built of sterner stuff!

A doctor and midwife were admitted to the room to assess Cynthia's health and gauge the state of her pregnancy. These two. at least showed Cynthia compassion and humane treatment. The midwife informed her, "You are older but strong and vital," she bent to Cynthia's ear and whispered so that neither the doctor nor the other women present could hear, "the male child in your womb is strong and healthy."

"Are you sure?" asked Cynthia breathlessly.

"I've never been wrong once," then she whispered in Cynthia's ear once more, "The secret of the babe's sex is safe with me, girl."

"A son!" thought Cynthia. Oh, how this news would please Kiron! The further repercussions of what it meant Cynthia did not even contemplate. She could not wait to tell Kiron that his dream had come true. That it was also her dream as well hit her with the force of a thunderbolt. "I shall be the mother of a king!" she silently marveled.

Dinner arrived in the barred room. The fare was simple but filling. Cynthia partook very lightly of the wine.