The Royal Heirs Pt. 03

Note: All characters are 18 or older.

***

The next morning passed with tedium and ceremony, listening to reports from his ministers on the goings on throughout the Empire, hearing Ordran drone on about what his Aunt and sister were doing at home, meeting with local lords and ladies who would dine off their minutes spent with regality for years to come.

He sat through a particularly boring review of the following Kingdom -- the last -- that they would be visiting, their ships setting sail the following morning. It was the first of two Royal Tours that would take them to all eight Kingdoms in the Empire, electing first to visit those that had weak ties to the crown through either loyalty or blood.

The final Kingdom -- the mountains of the King's Continent -- was cold as it was forsaken, with a sparse, hardened population who spent most of their time preparing to weather the winter storms. It would be a far cry from the time they had enjoyed in the Isles.

And then they would return to the Capital, his home, where he would begin the process of creating his own heir. When the expectation had first been explained to him, Entega had balked and protested, insisting it was too soon to consider his successor. His advisers -- Ordran chief among them -- had pointed out that a simple accident would spell the end of his rule. Better to have the heir apparent rather than leave the Empire to infighting as his female relatives battled for control.

They would fight enough when it came time to determine who he would take to bed.

The two Royals who had accompanied him on the tour -- his mother and younger cousin -- sat in on the meetings with him. The Queen gave no indication that anything had changed, treating him no different than she had the previous day. She sat across the table from him, contributing her normal advice and context, not so much as holding his eye with a knowing smile.

He had no way of knowing what was crossing her mind, but his was transfixed on the night before. She wore a long blue dress that ran up to her neck, with sleeves covering down to her wrist. It mattered little -- the King was stuck on the curve of her breast, always apparent in his periphery.

His cousin sat beside his mother, her dress far less modest. She was dressed in a similar blue, yet the dress cut off just above her ample breasts, a line of cleavage between the two drawing him in whenever she leaned across the table to ask a question or make a comment.

Unlike his mother, Entega's cousin spent the morning casting sideways glances and flashing her tongue across her lips whenever the two made eye contact. She was just a few weeks younger than the King, but played the game far better than he did. It was clear there was an understanding, her little birds listening in to his chambers the night before.

What did she make of it? Entega had hoped these games would wait until he had returned to the Capital, but it seemed his cousin had other thoughts. Twice throughout the morning he felt her foot gently caressing his inner thigh under the table.

After a midday meal, the meetings adjourned and preparations began for the coming of age ball that would precede the final feast of their visit later that day. The Queen excused herself to meet with the Siobhan family, planning to review the upcoming transfer of power once Leanna was confirmed to be with the King's child.

Entega was set to make a trip to the local Shrine. One could be found in the Capital of every Kingdom, and though each now bore the names and likenesses of Entega's conquering ancestors, they had all begun as places to worship local gods.

The Shrine of the Isles was set up in the cliffside, a small plateau looking out from the ocean towards the Continent, the ridgeline of the landmass supposedly visible on a clear day. The King was expected to pay his respects at each Shrine at least once during his visits.

As he mounted his horse and left the walls of the Island Fortress, he was surrounded by a half dozen of his House Guard, and another score of local Lords and Ladies. They made their way down the path, and as they turned to begin the climb up into the mountains, he heard a set of hooves fast approaching from behind him.

"Your Grace, it is such a beautiful day," his cousin Kylie said as she pulled up alongside him. "It would be my pleasure to accompany you to honor our family."

"Of course dear cousin," he said, smiling warily. "Who would dare decline your company?"

"Weak men, my King," she said, leaning in close to give him a view of her bosom, whispering so only he could hear, "and those who fear a little fun."

She had changed since lunch into a well fitting riding outfit -- simple brown pants, and a tight white top that the King thought was set to burst at any moment. The top buttons strained against her pressing breasts.

"Luckily, I am neither of those things," the King said.

"Lucky for who?" she asked, not waiting for an answer before trotting ahead to travel with the handful of local lords who had accompanied them.

It took just less than an hour to travel up the switchbacks to the mountainside Shrine, most of the time spent discussing local affairs and how the King had enjoyed the Isles with the local nobles.

He spent the time distracted by his cousin who rode ahead, mind drifting as she stood in her stirrups time and time again, showing the curves of her body, her beautiful rear that begged his attention. Not once did she turn to look back, but the King felt she knew he was watching.

What was she playing at? It was clear now that she understood what had happened the previous night with his mother. The two had grown up side by side, and there had been an undeniable attraction since the moment Entega started to notice women. She had not been shy with her body around him but had kept her distance since his coronation.

Yet here she was, playing the game he had inadvertently started sooner than he'd liked.

They arrived at the Shrine and dismounted, stepping through an opening in the cliffside onto the cleared plateau that overlooked the city below. It was a perfectly round stone outcropping with just a small wall separating the Shrine from the precipitous drop below. In the ground were ornate, legendary sea beasts carved and maintained by a small population of monks.

In most Kingdoms, the Shrines were maintained by dedicated individuals, but here the monks themselves were not local -- they were aged slaves taken in the sea raids that the Kingdom of Isles continued to this day. The raids themselves were illegal, and the Kingdom formally condemned them, yet there was no such ban on the slave trade throughout the Empire and many Lords and Ladies frequented the auctions stocked by supposed pirates.

The monks were a mix of each of the Kingdoms, covering every race and religion that the King oversaw. These were the individuals who had survived long enough to outlive their utility to the ruling Houses, and they numbered fewer than two dozen.

Each was clean shaven from head to toe, and wore a simple robe of rough white fabric. They moved around with gentle smiles on their faces, eyes cast downward, hands busy with maintaining the beauty of this pious place.

The King led the party through the normal rites, passing each of the smaller idols that ringed the Shrine and offering soft spoken words of thanks. The likenesses in each of the spots were carved to look like his ancestors, yet the decorations and accents still showed the deeper worship of the sea, with all manner of other sea creatures ornamenting every open surface.

After they had completed their circuit, the King thanked the monks and excused himself to the Royal Shrine, following a small staircase cut out of the cliffside up and away from the rest of the party.

Each Shrine had a spot like this -- the oldest and most sacred places in each of the Kingdoms. Only the Royal Family and a select few senior monks were permitted.

There were no idols, no carved images of sea creatures or former rulers of the Empire. Instead, it was a natural cliff, passing through a small, rough opening into an outcropping that was no more than five paces across. The only indications of humanity's presence were a single monk who nodded hello and continued on with his work, and the King's cousin who had followed closely behind.

"It is a beautiful sight," she said, stepping past the King and gently trailing a hand across the back of his neck, "even before it included me."

"It is made all the better with you," the King said, trying to be polite. "It is quite spectacular, though."

And it was. The small Royal Shrine overlooked the entire settlement on the Island -- the Island Fortress, the drydocks where the Royal Navy was built, the harbor, the bustling city. Yet the most breathtaking view was of the seemingly endless sea, sparkling and crashing in the early moments of twilight.

"Can you see the continent?" he asked, pointing towards the thin dark line on the horizon.

"I can see nothing but water," she replied.

"There," the King said, moving a step closer and pointing over her shoulder. "We set sail in that direction in the morning, sailing north to the Mountain Kingdom."

"Ah yes, there is our home," she said, pressing back until the King's arm rested on her shoulder, their bodies pressing together. "The day we return cannot come soon enough. I am so ready for the fun to begin."

She pressed her backside into his groin, moving her hips ever so slightly to feel the growing excitement between the King's legs.

"Though, from what I've heard the fun has already begun," she said, turning to face him, hands reaching for the King's belt buckle to undo his trousers. "You know how I hate being left out."

So this is what she played out, this was why she had accompanied him to the Shrine for the first time during their tour.

"Kylie, we are on a Royal Tour," the King said, trying and failing to remove her hands from his belt. "There will be a time for all of this."

"The time is now, dear cousin. You started it yourself," she said, succeeding in lowering his trousers to reveal his throbbing member to the ocean breeze. "I would hate for you to make a quick decision without considering all your options."

"Kylie..." the King said, glancing at the old monk who had not acknowledged the two since they had appeared.

"What, him?" she said, releasing the King and moving to stand beside the man. "Would you like to watch me fuck him first?" She reached down and lifted the man's robes, revealing a shriveled penis underneath. "They take vows of silence and abstinence when they join. I'll make him come and he'll throw himself off the cliff in shame."

She reached down towards the man's penis, but the King put up a hand.

"No," he said. "No, leave him be."

Kylie dropped the robes and stepped back to her cousin, still with his pants around his ankles.

"There are none who listen here, none who watch," she said, taking his cock in her hand. The King grabbed her wrist. "Come now, you have watched me with lust in your eyes since my breasts began to bud. Will you truly deny my desire to see you pleased?"

Of course he wouldn't. He had dreamt and fantasized about her since his cock first hardened, and though a part of him knew it would be prudent to resist and wait until they had concluded the Royal Tour, he simply released her wrist and sighed.

She smiled and dropped to her knees.

She had put her light orange hair into two short braids for the journey to the Shrine, rounding her pretty, ovular face. Kylie looked up at her cousin, with her pale hazel eyes, and gently stroked his length. She moved beneath it, placing the King's cock across her face, her tongue gently playing with his scrotum.

She ran her tongue up from base to tip, taking his engorged head in her mouth quickly. Her head bobbed up and down as the pure pleasure began, the King unable to keep his eyes open as her tongue worked his sensitive tip.

Faster she went, the warmth of her mouth enveloping his hardened cock, her hands twisting and working as the King just moaned and sighed. How many erections had he had thinking about this moment? How long had he desired to feel his cousin wrapped around his cock?

She slowed then, holding his rigid member in one hand while her tongue gently licked here and there, her eyes looking up at him, expectant and knowing. She stroked faster, bringing both hands to fondle his penis as she moved down to take his testicles in her mouth.

The dance went on like this for moments that felt like blissful eternity, her practiced hands keeping him just a step from teetering over the edge, playing with his pleasure like a cat plays with a mouse.

"Oh my cousin," she said, moving her head back to stroke his cock slowly then. "Do invite me next time you decide to have some fun. There is nothing like comparing side by side, and my Aunt is so beautiful."

"Not so beautiful as you with your lips around my cock," the King said.

"Careful," his cousin replied. "Some might think you're playing favorites."

She took him in her mouth entirely then, in one swift motion, bringing a hand to fondle his balls while her tongue tickled the base of his cock. She pulled back slowly, bobbing at his tip and running her tongue in a way that made the King's legs weak.

"If I'm to be your favorite, I'll earn it."

"Earn it, then."

She smiled and let out a soft moan before taking him again, using her mouth and hands to twist and drag the pleasure out of every inch of the King. It did not take long to take hold, the first feelings quickly catching and rolling into an inevitable crescendo he had so long desired.

"Yes," his cousin moaned, feeling his body tense in preparation for the joy to come. "Yes your Grace, please come for me. Let me taste you."

He grabbed her then, taking the little braids and fucking her mouth himself, enjoying the high moans that escaped her as his cock moved in and out of her soft, wet mouth.

Soon he couldn't take it, and he plunged himself, feeling his cock meet the back of her throat as he shot his Royal seed deep into her, enjoying the moments of absolute bliss that went along with finally feeling the pleasure of his cousin.

He did not release her for a few more moments, moving slowly in and out of her mouth, her braids still in hand, enjoying the lingering remnants, the echo of an extraordinary flame that still pulsed in his cock.

Eventually he lowered his hands and raised his trousers, his cousin rising to stand close to him with the top button of her riding top undone in the action. Entega looked down and saw the curve of her breasts, her outfit stopping just short of showing her nipples.

He considered reaching down and undoing the rest of the buttons, of finally exploring the body he had admired countless times. Before he could, she looked down and noticed it herself.

"A pity," she said, refixing the button. "So much left for you to explore."

She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek before spinning and walking back down the stairs.

"Come, your Grace," she called over her shoulder. "Daylight grows thin and we have beautiful young boys and girls to look at."