The King's Harem Pt. 04

When he pressed himself against her there was no doubt as to his plan and he noticed she began to breathe rapidly, nervous for what was to come. Roland returned to the cell with one of her jewel-encrusted daggers, too fine a weapon to have been hers. She had a wealthy patron.

The King took the dagger and ran it over her body for a few minutes until bringing it to her exposed neck. He leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"You may not speak our language," the King said, "But surely you know what is about to happen to you." The King let his left hand trail down her lean, exposed stomach until it rested on her mound. He then cut the silks behind her neck that were keeping her clothing on and let them fall to the floor in a pile at her feet.

The King's right hand explored further down her nude body until he reached her mound. Waiting for him there was a thick patch of dark black hair, but it had been trimmed neatly along the sides and her pussy lips were completely smooth.

"Ah...see!" the King joked to Roland and the translator, "I would have known something was amiss when a young lady of the harem came to me unshorn." The King played with her public hair a moment and Zahra began to squirm at his touch. The courtier did not know how to respond but Roland laughed heartily.

"Come let us away," Roland said, pulling the courtier toward the cell door.

"Wait," the King said. "Ask if she's a virgin."

"Hal lamask rajul min qabl?" At that question Zahra began struggling at her handcuffs and the King smiled and began massaging her labia.

Roland laughed and winked at his uncle, "We will be right outside, your Grace."

As the King unfastened his trousers he thought a moment at why the Emperor would send such a poorly hatched plan in an attempt to kill him. The Emperor was being reckless with his strategies. The King pulled his engorged member out and rubbed it along Zahra's young, perky cheeks before he squatted down a bit to run his tip up and down her teen cunt. With no further ado he found the hole of her uncooperative entrance and pressed the first few inches of himself into his prisoner.

Zahra screamed as the King thrust the rest of his length into her. He remained still as he basked in the sensation of taking her unwillingly and her feral pussy being forced to expand to accommodate his girth. The King moaned, thinking still of Abrielle's soaked, young, and fertile vagina taking him last night with every intent to bear his child. The King had still been aroused at the thought that morning, and now he was inside of a would-be teenage assassin, having his way with her.

The King grabbed on to Zahra's hips and began ravaging her body with no mercy, using her reluctant, but still soft, folds to pleasure his cock. The King took no notice of her feedback as he pummeled her 19-year-old frame. Zahra screamed for all in the cell block to hear as she took the royal fucking the King would bestow upon an enemy of the crown.

The King's left hand grabbed on to Zahra's throat, choking her, while his right hand found her clitoris and began massaging her most erogenous spot. Zahra's legs spread involuntarily, perhaps to accept the continued thrusts of the King's beastly dick.

Zahra went numb as the King deprived her of air. Her life was entirely in his hands as he used her nimble body simply to get off that morning. Had Zahra not been found, he would be fucking Abrielle into oblivion instead.

The King kicked Zahra's feet even farther apart and picked her up slightly off the floor as he continued to hammer into her teen fuckhole. With his hand around her throat she could barely release any sounds of protest, but they were there just beneath the surface.

He kept thinking of Abrielle and how erotic it had been to take her and cum in her womb. He lost himself for a moment and imagined his raging member inside this eastern prisoner, unable to reject him and the tip of his cock so desperately close to her womb instead of Abrielle's. The King had intended to take Zahra's ass as well, but the thought of laying down his seed again drove him over the edge. Without warning he released a load of pent up aggression onto Zahra's protesting teenage cervix.

The King's hands found her slender hips and pulled her back onto his cock, ensuring stream after stream of semen made it deep into her. Zahra, for her part, continued to squirm and let out an exasperated moan of deep, frustrated anguish.

The King, once he came down off his climax, let his old hands explore her breasts, nipples, stomach, mound of hair, and her young thighs. She was quite the specimen, a shame to see her wasted. He removed himself from her slick folds and refastened his trousers.

"Captain!" the King called. Roland entered and appraised the scene: Zahra with the royal cum leaking down her thighs and tears streaking her cheeks.

"Finished so soon, Uncle?" Roland joked. The King smiled at his nephew.

"Have this one sent to the eunuchs of the harem. Tell them to prepare her for my bedchamber, leave her unsavory pubic hair as is - I rather like its exotic feel in this case," the King ordered, "I would like her prepared to take our manhood in her ass but they need not send the rose oil."

The King grabbed her face in one hand and squeezed her chicks, forcing her lips apart.

"I think I would rather like to fuck her throat," the King said, "But there's precious little time to tame her for safety. I fear she may bite our cock off! Send 53 with her so that I might have a mouth if I need. And best we keep this mount in chains while she is our guest."

"Agreed, sire," Roland said, "And what will become of her after today?"

The King had not thought of her future. "I do not know, Captain," the King answered, "Do you wish that we send her to you?"

Roland chuckled, "I might have my turn, your Grace," Roland answered, "Alas I know the men of the guard turned their heads when she arrived. They may all enjoy taking their leave of her... with your Grace's permission, of course."

"You're a fine captain then," the King said as he left the cell. "You must feed your men first!"

Roland laughed, admiring the used up beauty still in the cell behind them. "Indeed, Uncle. And truth be told I am courting."

The King turned, in admiration of his favorite nephew. Roland was the second son of the King's youngest brother, and as such was a mere thirty years. But he was easily the King's favorite nephew. Most of his brothers were themselves morons and thieves, they had produced little else in their time, but Roland was capable.

"Well who has captured my nephew's heart?" the King asked.

"The Lady Anne of the Western Marches," Roland declared, "Of Kingsport to be exact. She is the daughter of the Lord there."

"Ah a fine match!" the King answered, "Well if this is your intention please allow me to inquire after the lady with her father, our subject, the Baron of Kingsport! How old is she nephew?"

"Twenty, your Grace." Roland answered, relieved to get his uncle's approval.

"Ah yes!" the King said, "I have seen this one at court. She has surely caught my eye and I am glad I have not pressed further so as to not interfere with you! And you've bedded her?"

"Not yet your Grace!" Roland said, "She is virtuous still."

The King started walking down the hallway, patting his nephew's back. He pulled him in so that only Roland could hear.

"Well," the King said, "This is noble of a maiden but makes for long nights for a lord. You are a prince, dear nephew. Love this maid you court but let us send you something to tide you over 'til your wedding night. I insist!"

Roland chuckled, "Yes, your Grace. I cannot refuse my King!"