Surrender is Not Defeat

As the two girls gaped, a great howl of appreciation burst from the crowd.

"The King's Majesty, The King's Majesty!" went the roar, to be taken up right through into the ante-chamber, where fifty more courtiers pushed and jostled in a vain effort to see.

"Enough!"

The King's command stopped everyone in their tracks. "As you can see, our ladies are ready for us and we for them. You may listen through the doorway if you will - and I promise you will hear the sounds of enjoyment soon enough - but on pain of death none except royalty may enter except on my command. Now begone!"

Reluctantly and with a great deal of good-natured catcalling, the crowd shuffled their way out of the chamber, with many a backward glance and ribald remark. It took a couple of minutes for the room to be cleared and even before the door closed behind them, Robert removed Isabella's hand from her mouth and placed it on the very object whose stature had been the cause of such pantomime surprise.

Edward had no need to give his own wife any such encouragement, for she had sunk to her knees the moment the last courtiers left the room. While the widowed Queen was acting like a virgin girl who had never seen a cock before, her supposedly virginal cousin proceeded to act like a practised young whore who loved her work.

"Sweet Jesus!" she exclaimed, looking up at her husband in an equal mixture of horror and admiration. "I thought the codpiece was just for show..."

The Queen, lost for words, distractedly stroked her hand up and down her husband's cock, swallowing visibly as if in unconscious rehearsal of what was to come. She exchanged sideways glances with Elizabeth, who giggled a compliment to the King.

"Oh Sire, I think the Queen will need some careful tending to accommodate you, just as your brother is surely too long for...gaaghhhh!"

She was cut off by Edward pushing the head of his cock between her lips and grasping hold of her hair to hold her in place as he did so. "Shush, girl. Here is better employment for your tongue."

Elizabeth may have been surprised but she showed no hesitation in doing her duty, alternately swirling her tongue around the swollen head of Edward's cock and taking as much of it as she could into her mouth, until it gagged her with a good three inches still unswallowed. In contrast, Isabella was clearly intimidated and looked up at the King with trepidation. He answered by laying his hands on her shoulders and applying just enough pressure to confirm what was expected of her.

Ten minutes later, Robert was growing impatient with his wife's obvious and surprising inexperience. Wonderful though it was to see that lovely face looking up at him as her lips engulfed his manhood - and diligent though her little flicking tongue was undoubtedly trying to be - it was clear that she had seldom if ever sucked a cock before. Edward, in contrast, had his head thrown back with an expression of disbelieving ecstasy on his face, as the Queen's Lady-in-Waiting gave him some of the best and most thorough head that either brother had ever witnessed.

The world seemed to be upside down: and as King, Robert could look to no-one else to set it right. Raising Isabella to her feet, he proceeded to pick her up by the waist and toss her unceremoniously onto the bed. She gave a little scream of surprise and her legs flew delightfully open, revealing for a moment the heart of the matter. He dove straight in, thrusting her thighs apart with his own and then laying siege to her works with all the tools at his disposal.

King Robert was highly experienced in taking fortresses of every kind, whether of stone or flesh; and he had long ago mastered the art of softening up the defences before storming the gateway. He opened his campaign with a kiss, even as his hands pinioned hers to the bed, precluding any counter-move. She offered no resistance but he suspected she was only avoiding a contest she could not win, so he probed further, pressing his tongue deeper into her mouth. He found this entrance at least reassuringly open, its neat rows of defenders holding back when they could easily have inflicted a sharp repulse. After a brief tussle he felt her relax a little and her own tongue entwined with his, in a dance that gradually satisfied him there was no danger. Releasing her wrists, he moved his hands to the high, rounded bulwarks of her breasts.

He took them at first by main force, establishing control before settling down to attack the vital weak spots. He took her nipples in a series of pincer movements, holding them in place carefully with his teeth while his tongue circled them. Her deceptively tiny buds soon rose to their full stature under his subtle assault, the flick, flick, flick of his tongue bringing forth little gasps and moans, as she surrendered these strongpoints to tactics that Robert had honed to perfection on a hundred other conquests before her.

As he licked and sucked it came to him that he adored the scent of her: like fresh warm milk. Instinctively he knew it was a smell he would never grow tired of. No matter how many other women he had while away on campaign, or simply for variety and because he could, this was one he would always return to.

He began working his way down what were, on close inspection, some of the most gloriously designed outworks he had ever seen. Her abdomen was a masterpiece of firm sculpture, her stomach a smooth glacis leading to the thicket and hornworks that protected her final redoubt.

As he raised himself up to survey his objective, he glanced over to see how his brother fared. Edward had evidently made good progress, for he had Elizabeth on her back on the furs that were strewn about the floor, his face buried between her dusky thighs. The brothers often competed to see who could bring his woman to climax first with tongue alone and Robert recognised at once that Edward has stolen a march on him. She was starting to thrash about and cry out, gripping the nearest furs tightly in clenched hands. It was time to prepare his own final assault.

Not wishing to be further distracted, the King loosed the hanging curtains of the bed and let them fall. Now there was just himself and Isabella.

She had her eyes closed, her arms thrown back, her legs splayed open to lure him in. He began to skirmish with her at once, kissing his way up her inner thighs and feeling her tremble at his advance. At close quarters he saw that her outworks were the neatest imaginable: smooth, low lying ramparts that were barely visible even through the close-trimmed bush that adorned them. At that range her arousal was pungent in his nostrils and he was glad to have washed off the stench of battle before taking her, for he would not have wanted to sour her mix of sweetness and mustiness, of perfume and hot, moist pussy.

Robert nuzzled into her bush, kissed the hood of her clitoris -- and then began.

His tongue was proportionate to his cock and no woman who received its attentions would ever deny that it was the strongest muscle in his body, or that he applied it with a deftness equal to his swordsmanship. Isabella began to quiver and cry out almost at once and her body quickly betrayed her, lowering its defences in a flood of womanly nectar.

As he rasped between her inner portal, he found that its battlements barely protruded even when fully aroused. He loved nibbling the fringes of her pink flesh and running his tongue over and around her bud, until she writhed and moaned and pressed herself against him so that his nose was tickled by her curls even as his tongue raked her.

Finally he judged that her citadel was ready to fall. He moved forward on the bed, readying his ram. For a moment it stood proud and upright as he spread her legs still further, removing all impediment to his advance guard.

"Oh God, you're so big..."

The King saw her staring as if transfixed by the mighty weapon that was about to burst through her defences. He was used to this reaction and expected it, positively enjoying the sense of power he obtained from letting her watch as the head of his ram pushed aside the flimsy folds of flesh that were all that now stood in its way.

Robert loved everything about having a woman - but most of all he loved the sensation of entering her for the first time. As his spearhead thrust into her, he gloried in the unique feeling of her both resisting and giving; and though he had done this thousands of times before, he was still transported into realms of joy and wonder by that battle between opposition and surrender, between hardness and softness, between all that was most male and all that was most female.

Her citadel fell with a bone-deep sigh and her body shuddered in pleasure as the full length and breadth of him forced her passage. Robert supposed she had never experienced so large an invasion but in truth the only invader she had previously known had been rather like Ulrich himself: short and stocky. She was overwhelmed not so much by the diameter of Robert's ram as by its oaken hardness and by the way that it penetrated deeper than she had imagined possible.

As her gateway opened to him, the King also found himself in new realms of pleasure. Hers was surely the softest, most succulent surrender he had ever taken; and as her sweet and musky fragrances intoxicated him, so too her voluptuous curves made him want to wallow in her forever. He had stormed her -- but she had captured him.

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When Isabella finally began to cum, Robert felt her climax pulsing around his cock and it built up and up until her whole body convulsed and she gave out a cry halfway between a howl and a scream. It sent him over the edge, his voice rising above hers as he exploded inside her, spurting out his semen in great bursts that filled her to overflowing, so that each dying thrust of his orgasm pumped a little white flood of spunk from her, to trickle among her blonde curls and the soft crevices where inner thigh met arse.

As he rested his head upon his queen, his face against the softness of her breasts, Robert noticed the silence in the room beyond, where not long before there had been screams of ecstasy and release. He smiled, wondering if Edward could possibly have enjoyed himself as much as his King.

His wife of three hours evidently shared his curiosity. At first Isabella was content just to cradle her husband in her arms and stare blissfully up at the embroidered canopy above her, while the wonderful, unfamiliar sensations in her vagina slowly faded. But when they had receded to the point that she felt almost normal again, she reached out with her free hand and pulled back the nearest curtain.

Edward was standing naked in the middle of the room, with Elizabeth kneeling before him. She had clearly just begun another demonstration of the courtly art of fellatio: and judging by the size of him and the look on his face, her skills in that department were definitely greater than was to be expected in a girl who had supposedly lost her virginity barely an hour before. When she turned her head to look at them both, Robert was rather more surprised than Isabella by the way she licked her lips in lustful enjoyment.

"Is the King as big as this?" she asked cheekily, motioning to his brother's rampant tool and anointing it with a deeply affectionate kiss.

"I don't know," mused the queen, "Why don't you bring him closer, so we can compare?"

They both laughed as the Lady Elizabeth rose to her feet, took her husband by his royal member and led him over to stand at the foot of the bed. For her part - and much to her husband's surprise - the Queen crawled down the bed on all fours and sat at the end, pulling back the drapes to put his royalty equally on display. But then she frowned and tutted to see it at half-mast.

"This is no fair contest!" she exclaimed. "You have stolen a march on me."

"Oh, shall we have a contest?" asked Elizabeth. As she said it, she pushed Edward down to sit beside the Queen. A low couch ran the whole circumference of the bed, ostensibly so that couriers could kneel there to pay homage. Elizabeth, however, took things a stage further, kneeling between the Prince's feet so that his erect manhood was right in front of her nose. Then she looked sideways at her cousin and raised her eyebrows in query.

Isabella laughed, showing none of her earlier reticence but instead springing nimbly off the bed to kneel beside her cousin, whilst calling for the King to come and sit alongside his brother. Amused, Robert did as he was bid, wondering at this lustful nymph who seemed to have taken over the body of his coolly dignified Queen.

As soon as he was in place she took him firmly in hand, finding him instantly responsive. Clearly pleased, she kissed him tenderly on the head of his already swelling cock and said, "Now let us see which of us can please our husband the better."

Elizabeth laughed and went straight to work, the two girls stroking and licking and kissing and sucking their husbands into the fullest and most resplendent of erections. Isabella may have been inexperienced but she was a quick study, following Elizabeth's lead whenever she ran out of ideas. It was a testament both to the skills of the young women and the virility of the young men that they were so quickly aroused back to full stature. The brothers, for their part, looked down in stunned amazement at what their wives were doing to them, seemingly able to express nothing more than groans of ecstasy and an occasional, guttural encouragement.

Until, that is, the King suddenly called out, "Guards!"

Instantly the door was thrown open and the King's bodyguard appeared in the entrance, swords in hand but enquiry rather than alarm writ across their faces.

"Bring me the Bishop!"

Both girls looked round in astonishment, but the King promptly took them each by their hair and guided them back to their proper employment. Neither ventured to demur; but they resumed their former ministrations with sideways glances that expressed equal bewilderment.

In fact the King had clear purpose. With the two girls on their knees, bent forwards over their husband's rampant cocks, their rears were on plain view to anyone standing in the doorway: and three things must have been at once apparent. The first was that those rears were as perfectly formed as any young woman's could be; the second was that the lips of their pudenda were poking out, pink and puffy from recent hard usage; and the third was that their vulvas and inner thighs glistened not only with their own juices but also with their husbands' spunk, which indeed still oozed from them.

"Praise be to God!" called out the Bishop, for the benefit of those who were not in a position to see for themselves. "His Grace's seed spills forth from the Queen as milk and honey flow forth in the Promised Land, for such is its abundance!"

This confirmation from the holiest of sources was all that the crowd needed to complete their joy. Knowing it, Isabella evidently decided that enough was enough. Raising her head, she twisted around towards the gawping throng and called out, "My Lord Bishop speaks true. The King has filled my womb with his seed; and if my pleasure is measure of his virility, then we have this night conceived a mighty prince. But if it please Your Grace, all else is privileged. Guards, I pray you, close the doors and leave us in peace: and let none enter until the King commands it."

The guards looked to the King, who nodded. The crowd fell back and the door banged firmly shut once more. It had no sooner done so than the two girls looked sideways at each other and giggled. Then they looked up at their husbands and the Queen spoke for them both. "Now, my Lords, how exactly shall we serve you?"

Ten minutes later, as both girls were being fucked slowly from behind, the King turned his face towards his brother and then looked down appreciatively at the way Elizabeth's remarkably generous labia minora caressed and clung to Edward's cock as he drove it in and out of her.

"I think," said the King, it is time for Droit de Seigneur."

The two girls did not at first react, perhaps too lost in the moment to have really heard. Before they had done so, Edward had smiled in resignation and conceded, "It is the custom, after all." So saying, he withdrew from his wife and stood aside, still keeping one hand reassuringly on her rump but gesturing with the other towards her open vestibule. "Brother, Sire: all that I have and hold is yours."

"You don't mean..." began Elizabeth, finally waking up to what was happening.

"Have I no say in this?" demanded Isabella, who likewise had only been alerted to what was going on when her husband unexpectedly pulled out of her. Like her cousin she had been supporting the position on her forearms, with her face half buried in the sheets, so she felt rather than saw him move away and transfer his hands from her rump to Elizabeth's.

"You forget yourself, my sweet. Did you not both surrender yourselves to me?"

Isabella checked herself, though with some effort. When she spoke it came out almost as a bleat. "I didn't know that meant you were going to have her, too." She paused a moment, then bowed her head but muttered, "I thought you were supposed to take her first, even before her husband?" Then she added almost as an afterthought, "And what if she gets pregnant?"

"Droit de Seigneur may be enjoyed at any time on the first night: and it would have been rude and unbrotherly not to let Edward enjoy his bride before me. But now he has done so - and it is time, my sweet sister-in-law, for you to receive your Liege Lord."

Both girls looked from Robert to Edward, as if expecting him to offer some objection. But Edward merely gave a rueful grin and said to his brother, "She is truly amazing, Rob: tight as an unplayed drum and soft as silken down."

Even as he said it, the King took firm grip of Elizabeth's waist and pulled her back onto his cock, delighted at how easily he was guided into place. Unlike the Queen's labia, which protruded only slightly even when fully aroused, her diminutive cousin had deep flaps of dark pink flesh that were as disproportionately generous as her tits - and they acted as perfect conduits to her deeper delights.

Elizabeth had time only to blurt out, "Oh, Sire..." before Robert began to enter her, exerting a relentless pressure that overbore all protest.

The King immediately discovered that his brother was right. To his surprise, despite the fact that she was soaking wet and so freshly fucked, Elizabeth offered the kind of resistance to his entry that men dream of but almost never experience. As the head of his cock pushed into her, she opened around him with the tightest and yet most succulent of massages. Her entrance was as soft as any he had ever known and yet so resisting that it took considerable and sustained pressure to penetrate her. Even more wonderful was the discovery that unlike other women, where a brief but beautiful resistance was followed by a breakthrough into broader pastures, Elizabeth's tightness seemed to go on and on, no matter how deep he drove.

Like her Liege Lord, Elizabeth was clearly both enjoying and challenged by his entry, for although Edward's cock was the longest she had ever seen, the King's was a close second and had much the greater girth. As he pressed on, stretching her as no man had ever done before, she threw back her head and cried out a string of expletives.

If Robert had not already experienced a wonderful release with Isabella, there was no way that he could have stood her cousin's flexible caress for long. He had enjoyed more than a hundred women, including at least a score of virgins - but none had encompassed him with such a tight and lasting embrace as his brother's wife.