The King's Harem

"There are three to review today, Your Grace," Raquel said. The King stopped in his tracks in the corridor.

"Three?" he questioned, "I believe that's a record." He continued onward in the grey stone hall that connected his private chambers to a back staircase reserved for himself and other members of the royal family.

"Yes, Your Grace," Raquel said, "The campaigns in the south and the most recent tax collection have meant more candidates for Your Grace's Chamber have been flowing to us." Raquel answered him with poise and walked just a step behind the King.

She had once been such a candidate, but had reached the pinnacle of service to her lord. At a young age she found herself orphaned and sent to the care of her uncle, a peasant farmer in the north. The following year he had been unable to meet his tax obligations and so had surrendered Raquel to the Crown as payment. Within a few days, because of her looks and potential, she had been dispatched to a castle near the capitol and trained for several months to serve in the Harem of His Grace, a slave for his pleasure.

She remembered her own review day when the King decided whether to keep her in his own bed after training or be sent as a gift elsewhere, to somewhere likely far less desirable. That was many years ago, when the King was still a young and vigorous man and she was a nubile toy for his use. As she was gradually replaced by younger candidates and his interest in her waned, she became an instructor, then a deputy headmistress, and now - along with her freedom - she was the Mistress of the Harem, a trusted member of His Grace's Household.

Raquel looked at him while they walked, in silence, down the privy staircase and onto the grounds of the Royal Palace. He was much older now, she did not know for sure but knew it must be at least sixty. His grey hair was still full, and coiffed at his shoulders. He had put on several pounds since the days of his campaigning youth, but maintained an air of strength and vitality beneath his satin and furs.

In some ways she missed his attention, though she was now free to bed anyone at court. Given the gruesome ways many of her peers had ended their service... this was best. As Raquel and the King approached the Succubus Hall, a detached stone-and-log building that housed the Harem, Raquel tied back her long black hair and let it drape over her pale neck, distinctive features of northern serfs like her.

When they entered the Hall a single royal guard jumped to attention inside the square receiving room; his sword beat a metal shield painted with the King's Arms. The room was lined with polished oak and had polished wood floors. Torches lined the walls and three doors on the opposite side of the entrance led off into the other sections of the hall. Inside the room stood the Deputy Headmistress, Ayla, a tanned beauty from the southern shores of his kingdom with auburn hair that swept below her knees. The King had not seen her in several months, she had been tending to training duties, but she too occupied a special place in his household.

At just thirty, she also had been retired from the main corps of slaves after being allowed to bear the King a child, a daughter. An honor Raquel had never been permitted until the issue became moot. On seeing Ayla, the King briefly transited to a memory not all that long ago when Ayla had just begun to show that she was quick with child. After the King had announced she would be allowed to keep the baby and remain in the palace, he had taken one last opportunity to hold her head down to the base of his cock while releasing his cum down her throat. He could still remember her green eyes looking up at him obediently, though with tears streaking her pretty face, as she choked on his thick royal member for the last time and received the gift of his attention and satisfaction.

Though he could technically still have his way with her after granting her freedom, as with any of his subjects or foreign conquests, the availability of so many alternatives made such dominance unnecessary - in his view. That had been the last time Ayla had pleasured him, perhaps five years ago. Their daughter was a particular favorite of his. He had seven children he acknowledged, five legitimate and two bastards. He probably had several other bastards that would never be known, especially in the northern territories where he had put down several rebellions and in the Far East territories where he had done all his conquesting. Though his bastard daughter would later understand the small stigma of her conception at Court, she would also be provided for and eventually he would contract a suitable marriage. She would likely outrank all who sneered at her, she would certainly be more wealthy.

"Ayla," said the King, "I hear you have three new candidate for me today?" Ayla bowed her head.

"Yes, Your Grace," Ayla said, "I am proud of our work with these three and hope they please my King." Ayla clapped once and out of the farthest door in the room two eunuch stewards, both about twenty, brought out the King's cushioned chair, foot stool, and a bench all in red velvet.

The King sat in his chair and nodded approvingly. "Please continue, Mistress Ayla." With another clap the middle door opened and one of the instructors of the harem, Oliah, a curvy black woman of forty, emerged like a predator. Oliah had been an unusual addition to the Harem. She had been purchased by one of his ambassadors at a far away port across the seas and brought as a gift to the King; no one in his Court had ever seen a person of black skin before. The King appreciated the exotic gift but had not personally found her attractive; however numerous men of the Court, and more than a few women, had requested her from the King and he had obliged some as a present for his most loyal courtiers. She was one of the few Harem members whose desirability did not seem to wane with age, the King still got a request for her at least once a week. He only shared maybe one or two of his Harem slaves at any time.

"Miss Oliah," said the King. "Always good to see you. Please introduce me to these candidates, I'm afraid my blood is starting to run hot with anticipation and my patience is coming to an end." Oliah bowed without a word and clapped, dangling the one-inch thick collar on her neck. Out of the same middle door came three beautiful girls, led by eunuchs carrying the leash of each candidate.

The girls were led to stand in front of the King's foot stool, between him and the velvet bench behind them. Each girl obediently got to their knees, rested their hands on their thighs, and looked down to the floor. Each had a collar about three inches thick, to which their leashes were connected. The eunuchs remained standing at their sides.

"Your Grace," said Oliah, "These three candidates for your royal harem, we hope, are met with your pleasure. They are numbers 51, 52, and 53." Oliah bowed again and went to stand behind the King's chair, observing her pupils. Ayla stepped forward to introduce them and the King stood as well to judge the candidates. He could already feel the blood flow to his cock, looking at these prizes.

"Your Grace," Ayla said, standing behind 51. "This candidate, 51, has seen only eighteen summers. She stands at five feet and three inches, six and a half stone... or ninety pounds, Your Grace. She has been certified as pure, a virgin, from the West. Blonde hair, blue and green eyes."

The King perked up as he heard this. He reached down below 51's chin and raised it up. She immediately raised her head and looked up, but did not meet the King's eye... as was her training. The King looked down at the petite, nubile slave. She had a smattering of freckles on her cheekbones beneath each eye and elfin features, a stunning specimen, with a pointed nose and long eyelashes. The King noticed her breasts were larger than you would expect on such a slender frame, but still small. 51 was clad in a white silk shift that wrapped each breast and then formed into a small skirt, exposing her taught stomach and back. Like all the slaves of his harem, she wore small suede boots in brown that barely covered her ankles and had a one-inch heel. They were tucked under what he knew would be a very tight, young ass.

Unless something went horribly astray, he was sure this slave would pleasure him for a long time to come.

"Marvelous," the King said to all three mistresses in the room, "We will see if you have done well here." The King moved his hands from under 51's chin to her collar and pulled her up to her feet. She was a very lithe creature. He was surprised that she was found to be a virgin, some Western lord to whom she had earlier belonged must not have known of her or she would have surely been defiled already... back in her fiefdom.

The King stepped behind her, his large frame towering over the little girl before him. He looked down and let a finger drag slowly down her exposed back. Her blonde hair had been braided into a single ponytail that reached to her shoulder blades. When he reached her lumbar region, he was delighted in seeing she had the back dimples you'd expect of such a thin creature. Her pert little arse stuck out beneath her white silks; like her breasts, her butt was slightly more bubbly than you would expect given the rest of her proportions. The King still knew he would be able to hold it in one hand and he looked forward to the many other pleasures he would take from her teenage ass.

His hands lifted up the hem of her skirt, which barely covered her rear, and his right hand cupped one of her firm cheeks with his fingers slipping between her small crack. His fingernails brushed against the rosebud he would have soon enough. His fingers trailed forward to feel the heat of her sex and the smooth, shorn lips of her young pussy. His hand cupped his property and felt the shaved mound at the front of this beauty. He demanded all his slaves be free of hair below their eyebrows. A team of eunuchs saw to this preference daily.

He could feel 51 overcome with nervousness, attraction, fear... he did not know. She was hiding it well. The King pulled his hand back to her right hip and kept her in place as he pressed his manhood against her; it reached from the middle of her back to her silk-clad cheeks and felt very imposing. A girth and length befitting a sovereign.

The King then briefly inspected her small nipples beneath the fabric of her outfit and nodded approvingly to Raquel.

"This will do."

"Excellent, Your Grace," Raquel nodded. 51 returned to a kneeling position.

"No," said the King, returning to his seat, "Come here, slave. 51."

His new toy stood up to come to her lord, but he quickly snapped. "No. Crawl, slave." She returned to her knees and, on all fours, made her way over to the King's chair. He kicked the foot stool out of the way and she came to rest between his thighs. The King unfastened his trousers and let his cock free, he stroked it himself briefly. It stood at least nine inches and was almost as thick as the King's fist.

"Suck on my cock," said the King, "While I review the others." 51 said no other words but merely got up higher on her knees and took the King's massive dick into her young mouth. It was the first man she had ever pleasured. Though her training had been extensive, it had been with props. After a journey of many months from her home to the Harem chamber, 51 was now sucking the King's royal member - as she had been trained - a man more than three times her age.

The King paused for a moment to enjoy the sensation of his new, young nymph submitting to his will and pleasuring his thick cock. He looked down to see her small proportions extended to the size of her poor jaw; her lips were stretched beyond reason around his shaft, but she dutifully continued to bob her head up and down his dick, slowly sinking it deeper and deeper into her throat. He let out a deep, satisfied groan before regaining his presence.

"Please, continue," said the King, while 51 continued to work his glands with her mouth, her hands resting on her thighs.

"Next," said Ayla, only briefly observing 51 pleasure their sovereign, the King noticed a hint of jealousy in her voice, "Is 52. Twenty summers and five feet, seven inches tall. Eight and two-tenths stone, one-hundred and fifteen pounds. Her seller claims her virtue, but we were unable to verify this. Black hair. A northern beauty."

"Stand slave," said the King. 52 stood, in lavender silks, for the King's review. She was pale like other northerners, a young beauty to be sure. Green eyes. "No I don't think so," said the King, "I have too many northern slaves as it is. I realize every time we put down a rebellion we gain new candidates, but truly we must think about our over-supply. Besides, the Lady Raquel is my favorite northern beauty." The King charmed away as 51 could be heard gagging on his manhood. Raquel blushed a bit and looked away.

"Your Grace is too flattering," said Raquel.

"Nonsense," said the King, "She is wonderful and you ladies have done well with her. I recall I missed my cousins last birthday feast. Send her to the Marquis of the East Marches with my compliments. I have personally seen how much he enjoys taking northern girls, willingly or otherwise. She will make a fine gift to him."

52 breathed a sigh of some relief. The King, she had been warned, could simply order her disposed of, sold to the brothels, given to his soldiers. To be dispatched to his cousin, a wealthy noble and royal himself, was among the better fates if you were not chosen for the King's Harem. She was told the King's Chancellor, for instance, when given a gift of a good slave, rarely kept them alive past a fortnight. She would've rather been turned over to the barracks of forty men than suffer for weeks.

The eunuchs escorted 52 out of the receiving room and onto another life. Ayla composed herself for a brief moment and said, as if nothing had happened, "53 then, my King." Ayla moved behind a vixen who, also pale like the northerners, had fiery red hair that fell to her ass. She was draped in green silks to match her green eyes.

"Twenty-two summers for this slave. Five feet and five inches. Seven and one-half stone, one-hundred and five pounds. This one did not claim to be a virgin. Though we ensured she would meet Your Grace's preferences for tightness, the fact of the matter is she remains experienced. She has been lustful and wicked, difficult to control, Your Grace. We thought she might make for a fitting challenge."

"Indeed," the King said. He wrapped his fingers through the hair of 51 and cupped the back of her head with his strong fingers. "Come here, 53. Let us look at you." As 53 stood and came forward for inspection, the King began pressing 51 further down his manhood. Pushing past her tonsils and forcing her to take him deeper down her throat than before, he held her down there for a few moments while observing the red-headed vixen before him.

"Take off your dress, slave," the King said. 53 obediently disrobed in one fell swoop, standing before him in only her slave boots. Her breasts were ample, with nipples just bigger than his thumb atop the heaving bosom he expected in every handful of candidates they presented to him. She was taught but just curvy enough; he preferred his slaves to be quite lean and his concubines outside the Harem to be more proportioned. 53 was a nice compromise between the two: toned legs and stomach but hips not nearly as slender as 51. Still her (no doubt red) pussy hair had been shorn clean and she gave the impression of a wild animal, waiting to be fucked.

So he would do just that.

"Take your place on the bench, 53," the King said, "On your hands and knees." 53 walked over to the velvet bench that was behind her and crawled onto it to rest in doggystyle, awaiting her King.

Their sovereign took 51's head in both of his old hands and ordered her to let him control her motions. For a few minutes he masturbated using his slave's teenage mouth while eagerly watching the ginger slut waiting for him on the bench. A lesser man would have climaxed after only a few moments of such intense satisfaction, and he certainly did so in his younger years. Decades of this stimulation - the complete submission of the most attractive women in his lands - had given him a great deal of sexual endurance. His slaves today were considerably more worn after each visit than the Harem he had inherited from his father.

51's eyes had let loose several ribbons of tears as she was made to choke on the King's dick, but eventually he relented and tossed her out of the way to the floor.

"I will be back for you," said the King. He walked forward gracefully, or as gracefully as one can walk with their prick at attention, glistening with the saliva of a teen sextoy. He positioned himself at the head of 53.

"It's your turn to suck our cock," said the King, "Let us see if you earn a place among my whores or if I feed you to the wolves." He thrust his member to her lips and, to his surprise, she eagerly lurched forward and took his entire length in one swoop. Her lips, too, were stretched by his thickness and she looked up at him and met his gaze. Knowingly winking at her master.

"You insolent little slut," said the King. Ayla and Raquel gasped in horror. Raquel snapped at Oliah, "How dare you present this wench to our King! How dare she presume to - "

But the King had raised his hand for silence. The others snapped to attention immediately and he brought his hand crashing down on the cheek of 53, with his cock still buried in her face. With one, bleak motion his cock came barreling out of her mouth from the impact and she gasped for air. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and slammed his cock back down her throat, using her hair as reins to fuck her young mouth.

"You will learn," said the King, "I'll accept this challenge, Mistresses." With that he, while still holding her hair, walked around to her rear end and positioned his manhood at the entrance of her bare, defenseless pussy. He placed the tip of his cock into her and waited for her vaginal walls to adjust to his size.

Oh she will be plenty tight, he thought to himself. No doubt she had been used on the unimpressive cocks of some neighboring farm boys. Now she would have a king.

With years of practice, he yanked her hair back as he simultaneously thrust forward and made his slave take every inch of him in one stroke. Against her training, she cried out in astonishment and pain... and he began to ruthlessly fuck her warm, slippery cunt.

With his free hand he began laying down spanks on her tight, but supple, ass. Each swat became more deliberate than the last and soon her cheeks were bright red, a fitting match for her wild mane. After a while he felt his seed begin to stir and he let go of her hair, instead grabbing the back of her thick collar. He choked her as he continued to hump the delicious piece of red meat at his disposal.

"51," the King exclaimed, as the room continued to watch - or ignore - the brutal fucking he laid down on the twenty-something slut on the bench. "Come here, slave." The little sprite blonde crawled to the bench and kept her gaze to floor beside them. Wondering if she was about to meet the same fate as 53.

"Open your mouth, slave," said the King, "This wench does not yet deserve my seed. Certainly not in her womb." The teen slave did as she was told, opening her sore jaw to await the King's gift and keeping her gaze on the wall behind him.

The King slapped his current mount one more time, observing that the flesh of her arse was bruised now in some places. He let go of her collar, allowing her the first gaps of air she had in quite a while. He felt her pussy begin to jolt and squeeze around his member - the slut was not only coming to climax without his permission but also seemingly from being abused at his hand.