The Rescue of King Aron

The Rescue of King Aron

King Aron slowly opened his eyes, wondering where he was. He remembered being pulled roughly from his bed, but after that his memory was hazy. He blinked, allowing his eyes to focus on his new surroundings. He was outside in a clearing of the woods and it was near dark. He could feel a soft breeze on his skin, and he looked down to discover he was naked. His next discovery was that he was bound to some device, his wrists secured above his head and his legs spread and tied to two pieces of timber. He could feel rough wood under his back and buttocks. He coughed and looked to his left.

Five men were sitting around in the nude on the shore by a lake that King Aron did not recognise. From the look of them, the King could see they were farmers or labourers, all well-muscled and heavy-set. They were all playing with what the Gods had given them between their legs, although three were playing with one another; sat in a row on a fallen log, their hands busy between each other's spread thighs. When they saw that the King had regained consciousness, they all smiled broadly and started laughing.

"Hello there, your Majesty," one of the men, with a shaven head, a scar running down the left side of his face and a monster of a penis jutting up from his groin, grinned.

"Where am I?" the King croaked, his mouth incredibly dry.

Scar-face stood, his gigantic erection bobbing as he approached the prone Monarch. "We are the servants of Lord Bolman, and we are here to do his bidding."

The King was confused. "Lord Bolman? But I do not understand. I am your King!"

The man with the scar let out a mocking guffaw. "We no longer recognise your Sovereignty. You are our prisoner and will do as we say."

"What is it you mean to do to me?" the scared young Monarch asked.

Scar-face looked over his shoulder at his companions, then back at the King. "Lord Bolman has a keen interest in what you carry in the sack between your legs. He informed us that the sweet wet cunt of a maiden holds no power over you. So, he has enlisted us to service you with our meat-sticks, and bungholes if it comes to it. And we are more than willing to partake, for none of us have known the flesh of a maiden for some considerable time."

Despite his fear and discomfort, King Aron was dismayed to find that his penis was stirring at the coarseness of this brute's language. How could that be?

Almost as if reading his thoughts, Scar-face smiled. "We have administered unto you a potion, of Lord Bolman's own making, something he calls Viagris." His eyes dropped to the King's exposed genitals. "I see that it is already taking effect." He motioned to the other men. "Come, my friends, it looks like the process of extraction may begin."

King Aron writhed against his bonds as the men stood and approached him, one of them carrying what looked like a drinking vessel. At first, they stood around, rubbing their hands over each other, fondling cocks, bringing them to erection. Then a couple of the men squatted down before the Kaiser, and began sucking, noisily enjoying his now-erect prick. The young King's view was blocked as a dark-skinned man with unkempt shoulder-length black hair straddled his chest and moved backward until his large, hairy muscled arse was before his face.

"Eat my hole, Sire," he gruffly instructed, pulling apart his cheeks so that his anus was revealed. The man then pushed himself against the King's face and writhed, rubbing his musty man-cunt over his nose and mouth, laughing as he did so, all the time tugging on his growing prick. He then dismounted and appeared at the side of the King and began rubbing his cock over his face. Then he took the King's head and held it at the angle he wanted and he slid his erect penis into the monarch's mouth, slowly until all his air was cut off, his face and throat turning red, and the man pulled back, only to do it again.

"Ah, yes!" the man panted. "Such a sweet and pretty mouth. Soft, just like a virgin maiden's," then proceeded to laugh.

Scar-face positioned himself between King Aron's spread legs and began to undo the bonds that held his feet to the contraption he was strapped to.

"You look ready for me, Sire," he growled. "You want to get fucked in your holy hole?"

The King could only shake his head and moan loudly, as the hard cock in his mouth continued with an in-and-out motion. He felt the hands of the other four men touching him, sucking his erection, probing between his cheeks, touching him where the skin was puckered. He felt Scar-face moving between his legs and gasped as he proceeded to push a finger into his hole, stretching him open. He hung there taking it; one finger, then two, three and finally, painfully, four as he felt his hole being stretched open, far wider and more painfully than Claude had.

"I am going to fuck you, as you have never been fucked before," Scar-face said as he moved up between King Aron's legs, wrapped his muscled arms around each thigh, shoving them up and open, then pushing his hardness into the exposed hole.

King Aron felt the man sink into him, felt him push himself all the way in until his hips were against his arse. He threw his head back and cried out, the dick he was sucking disengaging from his mouth. He did not have time to recover before another of the men was on him, rubbing his wet leaking prick over the King's lips, smearing the slickness over them, over his nose and cheeks.

"Suck me," the man commanded as he finally let his cock rest on the King's lips. "Give me what Mason just got."

"Ssshhh, no names fool, as Lord Bolman instructed!" one man responded.

Then he felt a hand grasp his chin, forcing his mouth open and allowing the cock to slide in. The King had little choice but to take the sucking and fucking, the way the big pricks slid into him, pushed deep into his body, feeling so exposed, spread wide open, and he felt his own tumescent prick flop back and forth, knowing it was as hard as steel, despite what was occurring. He felt sweat beading up on his skin, felt the way his hole was wide open, taking the invading dick of the man with the scar on his face.

Suddenly the taste of man-cum filled his mouth and he swallowed, not wanting to choke on the mass of semen in his mouth. He closed his eyes, but could hear the sex, smell the aromas of it and, whilst he was used against his will, he found himself wanting more.

Another of the assailants came to the King's side and leaned over and the monarch felt the warm mouth take his cock, suck on the head, the tongue working along the shaft. He was so close to shooting his own spurt and was powerless to stop it. As the mouth sucked him hard, working his lips over the head and down the shaft, until the King felt his semen surging through his cock, and he pumped his load into the unknown mouth. He saw the man lean over and spit a huge wad of creamy liquid into the drinking vessel which was passed to him by the one called Mason, then lick his lips, seeming to savour the taste of his spend.

"Damn the Gods, his arse is milking my pole," Scar-face cried out, and he hammered his cock into the King, swinging his hips fast and hard and, as he watched his fellow marauder lick the King's dingle clean, he pumped his own semen deep into the young monarch. He kept fucking, his dong still hard as he worked it through the spurt, smearing it through the King's tunnel and over his shaft, until he felt it pump out against him. "Fuck, I'm spent," he said as he withdrew, his prick finally deflating. "My young Caesar, you are fair tighter than my own sister," he gasped, laughing.

Then the King saw the final two men approach, both standing at his spread legs, one burying his cock into him as the other urged him on. The King looked at the man, then fell back letting his body relax into the fuck, taking the cock ploughing his hole. He felt the hard jerk of every thrust, felt the way the interloper held his legs tight to his sweaty chest, his hips banging against his arse. The other man began to rub the King's chest and stomach, then to stroke his crank as it began to get erect again. He leaned over to one nipple, tonguing it, sucking it into his mouth, and then he bit down on it. The pain shot through King Aron, and he felt the intruder fucking him pump hard, short jabs into his arse and knew he was climaxing.

The King watched as the man who had fucked him pulled back, his long cock deflating, and watched the other one move from his side and up between his legs, and King Aron noticed how the man's penis, now fully hard, the head wet, a drool of pre-cum hanging from it, was a blunt thick instrument. The King felt it rub his hole, smear the leaking spend over it and then he felt the man push hard against him, the thickness of it breaching his hole, stretching him open even more. He fell back, his body arched up, taking the pain, letting it turn to pleasure as the massive cock slid into him, drilling into his hole.

The King was sweating profusely, feeling it run downward on his body. He felt hot, every sensation running through his body seemingly magnified, the huge cock plunging into his hole. He bucked upward, pushed down with his arse, feeling his body respond, feeling his need to climax again rise quickly, and suddenly he felt his semen surge through his prick again.

"Quick, the vessel!" one of the men shouted, and it was placed flush against his stomach, ready to catch the ejaculate. He exploded and the King felt his hole spasm painfully around the thick cock inside him and the man shoved in harder. "Oh, bless the Gods!" the man shouted, and pumped his own semen deep into the guts of the King.

Then it was over, and the King lay exhausted and spent, his arms aching from being tied aloft and his butthole from the reaming it had received. He could feel the seed of the men who had violated him leaking from his hole, which felt to him to be the size of an orange. He felt how exposed he was, naked, as the others moved in the shadows. He watched as they passed the vessel between them, holding it aloft to the Gods. "Praise Lord Bolman!" each said, as they looked at the contents. "Praise him!"

As if their words had summoned him, Bolman stepped into the clearing, dressed in a dark-ruby cloak. The men immediately became knee-bound, Scar-face holding the vessel of the King's spend out in front of him.

"Well done my soldiers," he smiled, taking the cup.

The King glared at him. "Why have you had this done to me? Have I not treated you well, as did my father?"

Bolman raised the cup as if to make a toast. "This, my King. This spend from the Majesty's ball sack is everything I need."

"But why? I don't understand you!" King Aron shouted.

Bolman held up his hand. "Men of mine, you are hereby dismissed. Leave me to my counsel with the young King."

The men sauntered off towards the lake, gathering their clothes and dressing as they walked away into the depths of the surrounding forest. Bolman approached the prone King and waved a hand in his direction. Suddenly the bonds around his wrists disappeared and his arms fell limply to his sides.

"I trust you have neither the energy nor the inclination to make an escape, my King?" Bolman slyly inquired.

King Aron was sore all over but managed to pull himself up into a sitting position. "I understand not what you have done this for. What in all the God's names should you want with my .... spend?"

Bolman smiled. "You are quite unaware of the potency of your semen, my King. For many years, I have traced the lineage of the family to which you were born. Many centuries ago, your great-great-grandfather had unnatural relations with a dragon and, as a result of this copulation, something happened to the very semen he carried in his testes. This abnormality was passed down, to your grandfather, your father and then to you."

"You are nothing but a lying snake, Bolman!" the King shouted.

Bolman shook his head. "Not at all, my young Kaiser. My studies allowed me to experiment on your father whilst he slept. Unfortunately, he awoke on one occasion and I had no choice but to dispose of him, before the results of my life's work could become known."

The King shook his head in disbelief, his mouth hanging agape. "You killed my parents?"

"It is so," Bolman admitted. "Him and your mother both."

King Aron's eyes filled with tears. "I curse you, Demon!"

Bolman threw his head back and laughed. "I care not, for I will be invincible, and you will be a mere memory."

A noise from behind him caused Bolman to turn around. He recognised the figure at once.

"Ah, tis the King's man-whore, the swarthy cunt," he sneered, voice full of contempt.

Claude stepped out of the shadows, and Bolman had enough time to register the sword in his hand before there was a flash of steel, and Bolman's head parted ways with his body. It rolled towards the lake, then the robes he stood in toppled to the ground, along with the goblet of semen.

King Aron burst into tears as Claude approached him and enveloped his strong arms around him.

"I thought I would never see you again," the King said between sobs.

Claude kissed his head as he held him. "Fear not, my sweet King, for I will never leave you, not for any other reason than death."

They made their way back to the castle, once Claude had furnished the King with a cloak to cover his nakedness and retired to the King's chambers, where Claude washed the remnants of his ordeal from his tired and battered body. Afterwards, they lay belly-to-back and found comfort in one another's embrace.

King Aron carried the scars of his betrayal for many months, but soon found trust in others and appointed Claude as his new Chief Advisor, safe in the knowledge that he would always have the best interests of the King and His Realm at heart.

And this is where we leave our story. I do not know if they lived happily together for the remainder of their years, or if the Kingdom ever accepted a King who took another man as his lover.

But I hope, with all my heart, that they did.