The King's Harem Pt. 09

The King woke with Persephone's mouth wrapped around his cock. She was fifty years his junior and he relished that fact as her tongue massaged the underside of his shaft and danced over the glands of his tip. "Percy," as he called her now, had been serving as the Royal Concubine for a week and she had taken to her new role with enthusiasm. In that week he had only made time for three other mounts: Abrielle, who had been summoned to the throne room to ride him after a meeting with several ambassadors; his new slave 54, whom he had plowed into his stone chamber floor while she was hogtied and gagged for his pleasure; and Ayla, whom he had bedded in her private apartments... releasing his load into her willing cunt in missionary while one of his index fingers was buried in her ass.

It had been a good week.

He had intended to find Dawn that morning, the only one of his favorites he had neglected, but Percy seemed intent to suck a load out of his balls before he breakfasted. The King wrapped his fingers through her hair and tilted his hips slightly, forcing another inch down her throat. She gagged hard on him. Persephone was not as well-trained as a harem slave, even if she was eager to please him. He held her head still and began pumping himself in and out of her mouth. Percy kept her lip suction tight on his member as he face-fucked his new consort.

"Good morning," the King said. Percy moaned on his shaft in response, her hands clutching his legs for support. He felt himself getting close and pulled her mouth off his dick with a delightful pop. A thick stream of saliva bursting free from her throat. Percy gasped for breath, but the King, still holding her hair, pulled her up the bed and forcefully laid her on her side. Persephone had been invited to share the King's bed but was denied clothing while under the sheets.

Her patron straddled her and inserted himself into her young pussy, her saliva lubricated him thoroughly enough for a delightful entry. The King, having never let go of her hair, yanked her head back and began his morning salvo to impregnate his new mistress. Although Percy had groomed her pubic hair substantially compared to her noble peers, the free maids of court, he had sent her to the eunuchs to tidy up the new pet he owned all the same. Her smooth lips glistened for him as he fucked her hard into his featherbed.

"Yessss," Persephone exclaimed as his tip drove against her g-spot and he pulled her hair back like a rein. She had little time to reach climax as the King unloaded in her only a minute later. Her tight pussy walls contracted around him, milking the royal cock for its seed. The King admired her fit, young, smooth thighs stacked on top of each other as she took him on her side.

When he was done, the King slapped one of her pert ass cheeks and rolled off of her. Persephone leaned up on one arm to view him and ran a hand over the grey hair of his chest.

"Thank you, Your Grace," Persephone said. As he caught his breath he ran a finger over her cheek and then wrapped his hand behind her head, bringing her in for a kiss. After their embrace he pressed her head down toward his groin. Persephone, somewhat reluctantly, acquiesced... not quite knowing what was to come.

"Thank you, Your Highness," the King said, using her new royal style, "Do clean me off. I must dress for the day soon."

With that, Persephone found her Lord's spent cock buried in her mouth. The taste of her juices and the remnants of his semen dispersed over her tongue and she lapped it up at his command. She might have been a free woman, but she did not dare disappoint her King.

* * *

The morning passed without much fanfare. He went over plans with his advisors for his long journey east. A royal caravan surrounded by three of his best battalions would make the trip and reach the eastern front in due time after a stop in Summitlan. Most of the preparations in the palace were completed or underway. He could depart within a fortnight if the weather held and no new obstacles arose.

Before lunch he found himself alone in his study, pouring over maps and correspondence when a steward knocked and entered.

"Your Grace," the Steward said, "The slave Abrielle wishes an audience."

"Yes, enter," the King said. Abrielle came into view and had clearly dressed for the occasion. She wore her slave boots, a short, dark gold loin cloth that reached only to her thighs and exposed all of her legs, hips, and most of her mound. It wrapped tightly below her hip bones. A matching bralette exposed almost all of her breasts and covered little else. Her hair had been done up above her head and decorated with matching dark gold flakes and flowers.

She swayed seductively, and confidently, to her master's desk and dropped to her knees next to him.

"Good morning, Abrielle," the King said. "To what do I owe this visit?"

"Your Grace," Abrielle said, placing a hand on his leg, "I bring good news. The royal surgeons have confirmed that I am with Your Grace's child!"

The King dropped the map he had been holding and picked Abrielle up from the floor to sit her on the edge of his desk. His hand ran over her young, taut belly where a royal baby would soon show. He admired her slightly concealed, bald pussy a few inches farther down.

"Wonderful, Abrielle!" the King said, "Are you happy?"

"Yes, Your Grace!" Abrielle declared, with tears forming in her eyes. She leapt off the desk into his lap to straddle him and delivered a passionate series of kisses onto her master. He enjoyed them, letting his hands roam over her young, pregnant body. His body.

Abrielle's hands explored down his torso and began playing with the fasteners of his trousers. "May I please have Your Grace's favor?" The King smiled.

"Yes, my dear," the King said, "But we musn't endanger your womb. Our time in those ways has reached its natural end, but you may pleasure me with your mouth."

Abrielle looked slightly disappointed but knew better than to protest. She sank to her knees and finished pulling the royal cock free from his pants. Abrielle took her time licking his shaft and teasing his tip with her mouth, maintaining eye contact the entire time, before plunging him down her obedient throat.

The King gasped as she deepthroated her owner, the father of her child. Each time she took his entire length she would massage the underside of his shaft with her tongue while holding him down... still choking on his member.

Unexpectedly, the steward knocked on the door. A somewhat unprecedented action when he knew a harem slave was receiving an audience. The King was curious as to what could possibly warrant such an intrusion.

The Steward entered the study, "Your Grace," he said, "His Royal Highness The Crown Prince Henry." Ah... it was his usurper.

"Enter." By custom the heir to the throne did not request an audience but might have one at any time.

His eldest surviving son Henry, a man in his late forties, entered the royal study. Henry was dressed in the field uniform of a lieutenant general: dark purple tunic and robes with a steel breast plate and purple, woven epaulettes on his shoulders. He carried a standard sword of the Royal Army's mounted knights. The lone reference to his royal blood was that his breastplate had a simple royal phoenix chiseled into the center.

Henry was entitled to considerably more ornate decoration on his uniform both by blood and achievements, but he argued such ostentatious designs made him a more alluring target on the battlefield.

The King wrapped a hand through Abrielle's hair to insist she continue servicing him.

"Your Grace," Henry said, bowing slightly.

"My son," the King said, "My apologies for not standing to greet you. I was otherwise engaged when you arrived."

"Yes, father," Henry said, "I see that."

"I know you don't necessarily approve," the King said, "I am happy to report I have begun clearing out the Royal Harem and it should be fresh and ready for you upon your accession."

"Thank you, father," Henry said, "I am content with my wife being the only occupant of my bed."

"Well traditions die hard," the King said as Abrielle audibly gagged on his cock, "And speaking of traditions, traditionally members of the royal family obey the King's commands. I believe I told you to stay in the Maritime Republic on your diplomatic mission."

"Yes, father," Henry said, "But word reached me first that you had appointed Cousin Roland to serve as regent in your stead before your letter arrived. Your command reached me while I was already sailing home."

"And you did not immediately turn around?" The King asked.

"I did not," Henry said, "I came to express my concerns in person."

Abrielle shifted on her knees and gripped her thighs for support as she began pummeling her own tonsils with her master's cock. The sounds of her mouth, filled with saliva as pumping the King's shaft, filled the room.

"Well I don't know if you chose the best or worst time to air your grievances, Henry," the King said, "But it's one or the other."

"You know I respect Roland," Henry started, well practiced in having serious conversations while a bedslave serviced his father, "He is a fine warrior and officer. But ought we not trade places and he go overseas while I prepare to lead this kingdom?"

"It is not an insult, Henry," the King said, "We have our differences I know. But when you ascend the throne I want the occasion to be marked by actual change. I do not wish you to already be here and simply move seats. Your return to court as King will be a triumph, a homecoming on that day. Not a simple changing of the guard. Roland has lived at court for many years, you have not spent more than a fortnight here since you came of age."

The King paused a moment to enjoy Abrielle's mouth and lifted a finger asking Henry to wait. "Deeper, Abrielle," the King said. His pregnant fucktoy immediately complied, repeatedly taking his whole length again and again.

"Moreover," the King said, "You will need the gamblers and whores that lead that Maritime Republic more than I ever did. This is your time to build those bridges. You do not need to be here ensuring walls get built or pay distributed. And I placed the court in the hands of your cousin. Not your brothers. Roland is in line to the throne but has no realistic chance of sitting upon it himself. He has a right to it others do not but no cause for treachery."

"You think my brothers, your sons, are treacherous?" Henry asked with a stinging tone. "You think they would seize the throne for themselves and do me in?"

"Well I do not wish to find out," the King said. "... and yes Charles probably would."

Henry betrayed a small laugh. His next younger brother, Charles, was a skilled knight and also a gambler, womanizer, and may have committed piracy on a number of occasions. They had been constant rivals. The King had considered sending Charles to be his ambassador to the Maritime Republic, a series of islands to their south that encouraged games of chance, prostitution, and heavy drinking along with patroning arts, sciences, and the finest shipbuilding in the known world. The King had withheld sending Charles, fearing the former pursuits would destroy him overseas.

"Will that be all, Prince Henry," the King asked.

"Your Grace," Henry said, bowing slightly

"Join us for supper before you depart." Henry turned and exited, leaving his father to finish his encounter with his nymph sex slave.

"My apologies, Abrielle," the King said as he began bucking his hips against her face. "I cannot wait to cum down your throat my dear. To celebrate you carrying my child." The King held Abrielle's face still with both hands and began vigorously pumping her young mouth. It was shaping up to be a memorable day for the King.

* * *

By the time the King had completed his supper with his son and retired for the evening he was mentally spent. Despite having released his morning load into his concubine and deposited another down the throat of his favorite, now pregnant, slave... he found himself needing to expend a little more energy before climbing into bed.

Before entering his chamber he asked his steward to have 53 sent up to him with a pot of rose oil.

The King entered his bedroom and disrobed, changing into a pair of purple silk trousers he used for pajamas. He poured himself a goblet of wine and drank deep. A few minutes later 53 entered his chamber. The 22-year-old slave had not been expecting his summons and was wearing the standard issue outfit for her day: a pair of slave boots, a green loin cloth and bralette that exposed most of her young body, and a simple hairdo. She had hastily added decorative green face glitter and eye shadow before hurrying up to his chamber.

In her hands rested the usual pot of rose oil he used as an anal lubricant. 53 had taken a long walk to his chamber knowing full well she could expect the royal cock up her tight little ass before the night ended.

"Come here my pet, set the oil on the table." 53 did as instructed and then stood before her master, awaiting his next command.

"Kneel my dear." The King said. 53 dropped to her knees and fixed her gaze forward at the King's silk night trousers. He pulled his pants down and she briefly saw his engorging member, the target she now knew all too well and had been trained to worship.

53 rested her firm young cheeks on the heels of her boots, her hands resting on her thighs as the King positioned his hairy undercarriage directly over her face.

"Stick out your tongue." 53 immediately obeyed, jutting the full length of her soft tongue out for him. The King grabbed his hefty scrotum and placed it over her tongue, he then began rocking back and forth so that he could control the sensation of 53 licking his balls. Her master slowly stroked his own shaft while he enjoyed the feeling of her pliant mouth beneath him.

"There is one more load in the royal sack I need to get out today," the King said, releasing his scrotum and guiding the tip of his cock into her open mouth. He wrapped his finger through her soft red hair and began slowly choking her on his manhood. "I came inside my concubine's womb this morning, and Abrielle's mouth midday... so tonight I must cum inside of one of the many young butts that I own."

He pulled himself from 53's throat. "Bend over the table dear."

53 stood up, pivoted on one foot, and immediately bent over the table for her sovereign. Her long loin cloth covered only a few inches of the rear end he was about to enjoy. Without a word, 53 began gently swaying in front of him to give a stimulating view of her young butt.

The King kicked apart her legs and then gruffly tossed her loin cloth over her side, exposing both of her holes to him. A few inches in front of 53 the pot of rose oil she had been summoned with sat unused as the King began rubbing the tip of his member between her soft cheeks.

The King found her tight sphincter and pressed the tip of himself into her without any further ceremony. 53 gripped onto the table knowing what was ahead for her.

"Does Your Grace wish to have the oil I brought?" 53 asked, a slight sense of pleading in her voice.

"No," the King said, "I want you to know it is right within reach, but I choose not to use it."

"Yes, Your Grace," 53 said, spreading her legs slightly wider. With only her own saliva to lubricate him, the King pressed the rest of his thick cock into her defenseless asshole. Her rectal glands surrendered to his intrusion and began doing their part to milk the royal cock for his pleasure.

"I have been on a mission to impregnate my slaves," the King said as he began fucking her young ass in earnest. "When we go east I will bring you with me to serve as the royal... butt slut... I guess you could say."

"Yes, Your Grace," 53 said between her bit lip and clenched hands. He smacked one of her firm cheeks in response.

"I will need at least one mount to keep for this purpose on the road!"

The King grabbed her red hair like a rein and began pummeling her into the table. 53 could not help but wonder how she had come to find herself being railed in the ass by the King but it was the way he tended to enjoy her whenever she was summoned. She preferred it over the unknown fate of the harem girls he had disposed of in recent weeks. They no doubt found themselves with similar amounts of cock in the ass and no fine silks or elegant recovery room tended to by a team of eunuchs.

After a sensational few minutes for himself and an agonizing few minutes for his slave, the King yanked back hard on her hair and released his final load of the day deep into her 22-year-old butt. He looked down to watch his member throb and pulse hard into her with her sphincter desperately clutched around his circumference.

The King let out a deep, satisfied moan and spanked her one more time before pulling himself from her depths. 53 caught her breath and stood, her back to him.

He spun her around and pressed her by the shoulders onto her knees.

"Clean me before you go, pet," the King said. 53 took a deep breath and steeled herself before opening her mouth to clean her King's royal cock, tasting all the aftermath of the King having fucked and cummed in her tight ass.