Surrender is Not Defeat

He gazed down at the girl spread-eagled below him, admiring the way her long blonde hair splayed across the silken sheets; and savouring the way her body writhed as he thrust into her. The young queen moaned with each lunge, as if echoing the cries of her lady-in-waiting, who was being energetically attended to by Robert's brother, just a few feet away beyond the curtains of the four poster bed. Lady Elizabeth was as lovely as her cousin and Robert felt a twinge of concern that Edward might be getting characteristically carried away. After all, the girl was supposed to have still been a virgin until twenty minutes ago...

The King paused for a moment, with the glistening head of his royalty nestled just at the entrance to paradise, while he listened to the sounds Elizabeth was making. When he heard a soft groan and a girl's voice saying, "Don't stop," he was confused for a second as to who was speaking. Then he looked down at his own sweet conquest and realised it was Isabella who was pleading for more.

The queen's eyes were open now, gazing at him intently, reinforcing her words with a movement of her abdomen that pressed her vulva against him. Not for the first time, Robert was amazed by this woman. He smiled as he heard Elizabeth give a sudden gasp that spoke more of pleasure than of pain. Then, satisfied that his brother was fulfilling his duties appropriately, Robert returned his attention to Isabella.

Cupping her breasts in his hands, he enjoyed the fullness of them for a minute or so, gently rolling the proud pink nipples between finger and thumb. She moaned appreciatively, squirming beneath him so that her moist slit pressed up against his cock, pleading for its return. If she was grieving for her husband, she concealed it well.

Quite abruptly the King took hold of her legs and pulled them up over his shoulders, never once taking his eyes from hers while he positioned himself. As he poised at the tipping point, with her thighs just bearing his weight, he took in a multitude of delights: the way that she was gently biting her own lip in anticipation; the voluptuous perfection of her body; and the neat bush of blonde curls that encompassed the head of his cock as he slowly ploughed it up and down the length of her furrow. Each stroke turned up the fresh pink flesh of her inner lips, until it rubbed briefly over her little bud before returning to her entrance. And at the end of the fifth stroke he drove himself into her in one continuous, irresistible lunge that was neither violent nor brutal but had the whole weight and power of his body behind it.

Isabella gasped at the magnitude of his entry; and the energy of it drove her half a foot up the bed and his cock even further than that up inside of her. It was only the second time he had entered her and Robert marvelled at the way she opened around him, the initial resistance giving way to a fathomless softness. Her whole body was glorious but her cunt was the most perfect he had ever known -- and he had known many. People said that Ulrich had kept her well fucked in the first year of their marriage, until her failure to bear him a son had turned him against her. Now she was still barely twenty-one: and four years of that brute seemed to have done little more than to make her appreciate a bigger man who knew how to pleasure her instead of just himself.

Yet for a while Robert could not restrain himself and he pounded into her, as hard and remorseless as any barbarian in the heat of first capture; and she took it with a look of bliss on her face and her hands in his hair, calling out, "Yes, yes, yes!" with each thrust.

He almost came inside her right then but managed by the narrowest of margins to hold back. With his cock throbbing fit to bust, the King arched his head backwards and gritted his teeth as he fought to regain self-control. She must have recognised what he was doing, for she stayed motionless beneath him, save for relaxing her muscles so as not to grip him too tightly. He looked down at her again and called out to anyone who could hear, "Sweet Jesus, what a woman!"

After a minute of something close to agony the King mastered himself; and after a minute more he was able to resume. He smiled at her and began a long, slow, corkscrew motion, much gentler than before but just as deep. He could tell she loved it, moving herself against him, arching her back and lifting her abdomen to meet him so that his thrusts went even deeper. She was starting to call out encouragement again and he gradually increased the rhythm, reaching down sometimes to kiss her, to which she responded passionately until the ecstasy of it overcame her and she began to thrash her head from side to side on the pillows, digging her nails into his shoulders as he hit the spot and kept on going.

At some point, even before she climaxed, Robert had the full and conscious realisation that his new queen was surely the most glorious fuck in all the twin kingdoms.

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He had admired her from the moment he saw her. She had met them on the main bridge of the city, as the remnant of her husband's broken army streamed past in panic. Alone but for a single lady-in-waiting, with nothing to defend themselves except their wits, their courage and their beauty.

Robert stopped at the head of his men, bloodied sword in hand, so close he could have reached out and touched her. But he didn't. Like every man with him, he stood as if rooted to the spot.

The testosterone on that bridge was overpowering, a palpable force that came at the two girls like the breath of a wild beast. They must have felt it, smelt it, been terrified by it, yet they stood their ground. It was fuelled by the heat of battle, the stench of slaughter and the rush of adrenaline that drove men to do and bear terrible things. And yet the army stopped: and as the leading ranks took in what was before them, something touched their humanity.

Robert had known at once who she was. Even without the regal posture and the rich clothing, there were few woman anywhere who could match the rumours about Queen Isabella, the Barren Beauty.

The Queen must have been trembling inside but she never showed it, instead raising her chin and speaking in a voice that even hinted at mockery.

"What business have you here, your Grace, that brings you forth in such unseemly tumult?"

He smiled and bowed to her, with only a little irony. "I come to take back the throne usurped by your late husband."

"He was a bad man and a bad King but lawfully crowned. What right have you to claim it?"

"The oldest right of all: the right of conquest."

There was a moment's pause and Robert could see how her breasts rose and fell with suppressed tension. The smooth swell of them was delightfully revealed by her dress, which followed a courtly fashion that could hardly have served her purpose. Or could it?

"I ended his brutal reign not half an hour ago: and now I am come to take everything else that was his and is rightfully mine."

Robert saw her swallow and her lovely face grow a shade paler. The dark haired girl beside her reached out a hand but she waved it away, steadying herself to meet his gaze.

"Some things cannot be taken. Some are not yours to take, even by conquest..." So saying she drew a narrow, jewelled blade from the sleeve of her dress and held the point against her heart.

"I do not doubt your courage, Queen Isabella, or your willingness to defend your honour. But I think you came here for something else?"

She hesitated and in her weakness Robert saw how young she really was: which made her performance all the more remarkable. But was she just a frightened girl putting on a brave show, or a true queen?

"You are right. I came to seek terms for the surrender of my city and its people."

"I can take it in an instant, with one word to my men."

"I know: but I also know your reputation, my Lord King, or I would not be standing here now. I ask you to show mercy -- and to act like the great King you wish to be."

"Not just beautiful but also brave, compassionate and wise. You are everything that I have heard -- and more. What King could resist a plea for mercy, from such a Queen?"

She looked at him with a glimmer of hope in her eyes. "You are willing to offer terms?"

He nodded as he looked her over, taking his time over it. He saw the flush rise at her throat and steal over her cheeks as she recognised his desire. Yet she still managed a riposte.

"...and are you going to tell me what they are?"

He smiled, acknowledging the hit. "Your husband refused my offer of terms. Now by the rules of war I have the right to take your city by storm and do with it as I will. My troops expect to be given free rein. Staying them will not be easy."

Isabella swallowed, looking for the first time to her companion as if for reassurance: but the other girl was plainly too scared to speak. With his blood-stained sword and armour and his victorious army behind him, Robert was well aware of how intimidating he must look. And that suited him fine, for he wanted them bowed and submissive before he took them.

"In return for your submission, I am prepared to spare the lives of everyone in the city and to prohibit my men from looting, rape and wanton destruction."

The young Queen looked uncertain as to what exactly this portended.

"I shall take the throne and rule as your King. I shall levy a fine upon the burgesses to pay a bounty to my men. The city will open its doors to them and there will be three days of feasting and celebration, with no harm to anyone unless they resist."

"You want us to celebrate your seizing our throne?"

"I want to celebrate the union of our twin Kingdoms, Isabella: through my coronation and our marriage, to take place in the cathedral, one immediately following the other, commencing at noon today."

Robert had expected the girl to blanche or bluster; but what she actually did was far more interesting. She blushed, then made as if to speak but faltered and looked down.

"Your husband treated you cruelly: but I will treat you as the Queen you are. You came seeking terms for surrender and I offer you the most generous terms of all. I will take you to the altar, when I could take you by force, dagger or no." She looked startled but he brushed it aside and carried on. "I will be gentle with you and honour you as my Queen. I will love you as you deserve to be loved and pleasure you as your husband never could. We shall rule together, nurturing the good of your people... and I shall give you the children he could not." He saw her eyes widen and he pressed the point home. "I do not believe for one moment that you are barren, Beautiful Isabella, though even if you were I would love and honour you no less. But I believe you will bear children conceived in love and joy and they will rule this land in peace and prosperity after us."

She made to speak but he pre-empted her, speaking gently but firmly.

"All I ask in return is that you surrender yourself to me, completely."

He expected her to protest but she stayed silent, just staring at him. At last she said, in a tone of sadness laced with irony, "To the victor, the spoils".

"Surrender does not have to be defeat, for a woman."

Isabella considered a moment longer, then without a word she sank to her knees before him and bowed her head.

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There was in fact one other woman in the land as beautiful as Queen Isabella: and as Prince Edward was discovering, the Lady Elizabeth was also a close rival in her ability to take a man to heaven and back.

He had wanted her from the moment he saw her, standing on the bridge beside the Queen, smaller and darker but every inch as lovely. Her braids were pinned up and bejewelled in the fashion of the times, revealing the long, graceful lines of her neck and the fineness of her collarbones. From there his eyes were presented with a dilemma: whether to go upwards, to the refined beauty of her face, or drift downwards, to the natural wonder of her breasts. With Edward this was really never much of a contest and he felt himself growing hard at the sight of those fabulous tits. They were disproportionately large for a girl of her small frame but in every other respect they were a miracle of perfection. Her smooth complexion was two shades darker than the Queen's, hinting perhaps at a Moorish ancestor: and to complete his delight he could also see a hint of dark aureoles peeping through the lace fringe of her bodice.

Edward sighed, all the way down to his now throbbing member. The young Queen was as lovely as a May morning and he had no doubt that his brother would have his nose in her little blonde bush before the day was out: but for his part he was going to bury his face in those glorious tits if it was the last thing he ever did.

As the Queen and her companion submitted, their act of genuflexion presented the two brothers with a perfect view of their bosoms; and as the King later commented to Edward, it was like comparing ripe peaches to soft apricots, with no other way to decide which was sweeter than to sink your teeth into them.

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Robert knew at once which girl his brother would prefer, not least because Edward had stepped forward for a better look and was staring at the dark haired beauty with naked lust. When the King enquired about her name and patrimony, she took a little too long gathering her wits to reply, obliging the Queen to answer for her.

"Your cousin?" the King repeated. "Of course! Ulrich's niece. Now I see the resemblance. And you have her courage, too, Lady Elizabeth."

"Thank you, Sire."

It did not escape Robert's notice that she raised her eyes to glance at Edward, before averting them again when she saw the penetrating frankness of his stare. Despite her darker complexion, Robert was sure she blushed almost as deeply as her queen.

The King was close enough to smell the sweet scents of their perfumes, just as Isabella and Elizabeth must have had their nostrils filled with the powerful stench of masculinity that mixed the aromas of sweat and blood with those of steel, leather and arousal. As they knelt before him with their heads bowed, Robert was afforded a view of smooth, bare skin all the way from the back of their necks to their half-bared shoulders and pendulous breasts, which rose and fell in mesmerising symmetry. He took half a step forward, aware that if the Queen now raised her head it would bring her mouth level with his armoured codpiece and close enough to lean forward and kiss it. Their position was so suggestive that for a moment he was tempted to take her right there and then, in front of his whole army.

But she had submitted and he would honour his word. As he raised them both up, one with each hand, he stated almost casually, "My Lady Elizabeth: it is my wish to reward your courage and loyalty with marriage to my brother, Prince Edward."

The young women froze, before turning first to each other and then to Robert. "My Lord..." began the Queen.

He stilled her with a look, little more than one raised eyebrow: and she corrected herself at once, bowing her head. "As you command, Sire." Beside her, Elizabeth paused for a second as if about to say something, then followed suit.

"My brother will devote himself to your pleasure and satisfaction just as I shall devote myself to that of the Queen. Won't you, Edward?"

"Oh God, yes", breathed the prince, with such pure and ingenuous lust that the Lady Elizabeth seemed to be having difficulty suppressing a smile. This did not escape the King, who supposed her to be not too upset at the prospect of being bedded by a man who was widely regarded as one of the handsomest knights in the land. He wondered if she was also aware of his brother's notoriety for having pleasured more women than anyone else in the twin Kingdoms.

"Then it is settled. Brother, we shall have a double wedding: side by side as always!"

And so they did, for as Isabella soon learned, whilst Robert could be influenced in advance by careful suggestion, once he had chosen a course of action he could not be turned.

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Barely six hours later, the brothers led their new wives into the Queen's bedchamber, surrounded by a horde of witnesses. Even in peasant families it was customary for the relatives to see the newlyweds naked into bed, after which it was assumed that nature would take its course. But the consummation of a royal marriage had to be proved beyond doubt, or else the union and all that it meant might be called into question.

So when Robert slipped the under-gown from his Queen's shoulders and it rustled to the floor, revealing her full beauty for all to see, there was a crowd of at least forty straining to do just that

None of the four royals involved was much perturbed by this public display, though each for rather different reasons. Isabella had been through it before in this same chamber and felt less foreboding now than she had the first time, with Ulrich. Robert and Edward had bedded so many women, often in front of their men whilst on campaign, that they were quite unabashed: and Edward was almost comically proud to be deflowering such a beauty.

Elizabeth appeared far more shy as Edward drew down the dress from her body. In the official view of the court she was still a virgin; and she could not have maintained that pretence without being an accomplished actress. The cries of admiration and approval that accompanied her undressing were all the greater for this fiction; and in truth there was reason enough for everyone present to draw breath at her beauty.

Elizabeth was more petite than her cousin but even more buxom, her magnificent breasts displaying nipples that stood out proud from large, dark aureole. Her hair was the darkest brown, as full of natural curls as the Queen's but falling only to her shoulders, whilst to Edward's delight the tighter curls on her mons were sculpted into a love heart, with its point just touching the hood of her clitoris.

In striking contrast, Isabella's blonde locks cascaded down over breasts that completed a perfect hour-glass figure. They displayed small pink nipples that would need some coaxing to stand out from aureoles that were less then half the diameter of Elizabeth's. Four inches taller than her cousin, she was statuesque and curvaceous in equal measure, with long, toned legs that drew her husband's eyes to a carefully manicured bush of dark blonde curls, which almost entirely concealed what he most sought.

The family resemblance was really only apparent in their faces, which were like a light and dark reflection of each other. They shared the same high cheekbones and wide, open countenance; the same noses that they each thought too small; and the same firm set to the jaw. Their skin was alike only in its smooth perfection, for as young ladies of royal blood they had been pampered from birth. Both girls had eyes of startling blue and lips that begged to be kissed.

Standing close in front of her husband, as much to conceal herself from prying eyes as to get the public display over with, Isabella indicated for him to pull his shirt up over his head. As he did so she took the opportunity to unlace his breeches, pulling them down so that he was revealed in all his naked glory. Almost simultaneously, her cousin was confronted by Edward pushing down his breeches: and a collective gasp escaped the lips of every woman present.

It was as if two young Greek Gods stood before them, relaxed and yet proud in their perfection. At over six feet in height, Edward and Robert were almost identical in build and a good two inches taller than almost everyone else in the room. And judging by the size of the monsters that had just burst out in front of them, Isabella and Elizabeth were about to be serviced by the biggest cocks either of them had ever seen.