These Trifles

Author's Content Warning: This story contains non-consensual sex and incest. In a weird way.

"Come over here," Arthur said.

Quietly, the maid put her broom down and came to him. Sheer fabric hugged her curves, her pink nipples poked through so easily Arthur could make out the dips of milk ducts on her flesh. "Are you a guest of my house or a servant?"

"A servant," the maid whispered. Her blonde hair was long and curling. The golden strands uncovered, she was not married. Not that a man would slow Arthur's hand, no man ever did, but this thought led to others. The idea of the tight, virgin cunt between her legs could quench the thirst that builds in a man when he is away for so long, surrounded by men who stink of drink and long days. This woman smelled of soap and the green of the river.

"I have been gone a long while."

Arthur had left when the snow was prime for collecting in buckets. Fresh, white snow without boot prints sunk into it. Arthur was gone when the world woke up and bloomed flowers and the trees turned from skeletal hands into bearded green giants. Then, the heat came and people swam in the canals and hunted down crabs. They cooked these animals alive and cracked them open and ate them while the steam burned their chin. Arthur still wasn't here. Not when the water became warm enough to swim in, not when it grew too cold. The leaves turned orange and the people began layering their clothing and still.... Gone. People whispered, but word came of Arthur's great triumph in Bassas and people flooded the streets even when the air began to chill and lit candles and spoke of the great king and his return. The snow came again and it melted away and Arthur was still gone.

"We didn't know if you were coming back," she admitted.

Arthur's smile was warm. He took her hands into his, chilled and soft. "You missed me?"

The maid turned pink.

Arthur's strong knuckles nudged her chin up, until her green eyes were looking right at him. "Did you miss me?" He fingered her hair and wrapped the hair around his finger.

"Everyone did."

"So, yes. If you missed me, then you thought of me. Tell me, when did you think of me most? Was it in the morning on the way to the river to fetch water in pails or was it in the dark under your covers with your fingers somewhere impolite?"

The pink blush deepened to maroon.

Arthur had missed bedding women. He'd had a few here and there, women brought from towns and villages, but when the fighting had gotten too dangerous, none. He hadn't lay with a woman since the earliest call of spring birds. Now, in front of him, a soft woman all curls and curves, blushes in front of him. The blush spread to her chest.

He wishes to peel the cheap fabric away from her collarbone and see if the blush extends to those perfect, delicious nipples. He plans to lay this beautiful, young woman on her back and spread her legs wide for him. He wants to thumb open her slit and feel her warmth and wetness. He wants to see if her cunt reddens like her face as he presses himself into the soft folds while underneath him she writhes and changes mind a few dozen times calling out in ecstasy and pain. He, Arthur, knows there is nothing without both in equal measure. He will guide her. With his cock buried in her warmth. She could bare him a child and he would have her brought to his bed chamber often to satisfy her urges as her belly went round and stiff and her tits grew fat with milk.

Arthur reaches out and places his hands on her hips, pulling her close. Pressing his cock against her stomach. "Do you know of rutting or shall I explain to you?"

The maid stuttered. "Like animals?"

"Specifically rabbits." Arthur nodded.

Arthur unclasped the lace that held the top of her dress, let it fall to her hips. His hands were firm on her soft skin, the warmth of her so delicious to him that he had to see more of her body. He tugged at the material and let it fall to her feet. She was naked. All soft ivory. That slit, perfect, lined with hair peaking out from between her thighs. He could smell her. He missed the smell of a woman getting ready to mate. His cock stiffened. He took his time kissing her neck, sucking until the bruise began to form. He wanted to push her forward and take her from behind. Virgins didn't know of customs. Often they, the virgins, would offer up their rear and position themselves like any animal in the wild. He'd take them in his arms, kiss them, lay them on their back where he could watch their faces; their moans, their bouncing tits, their tears. His cock strained against his breeches. His hands untied the buckskin and let them fall to his feet. His cock sprang out, hard and leaking precum. The maid's eyes went wide and she glanced back at the stone archway that led to the garden.

Arthur's rough fingers spread over the maid's hips. He pulled her against him, letting his cock press against the soft curling hairs. She yipped as he got harder, biting at his lip. "We must stop."

Arthur pulled her to him, wrapped a strong around around the maid's back and danced her around until he was between her and the archway. "Now, now," he said. "Don't be nervous."

"I should be getting home," the maid stuttered.

Arthur sank to his knees in front of the maid. He pulled her forward by the hips until she could feel his warm breath on her stomach. He inhaled, loud and slow. She wiggled against him, but he held her still and his tongue began to lap at the slit. "Please," she begged him. "We can't."

"Don't tell me what I cannot do," Arthur snapped. He stood and pushed her backwards, onto the stone table. He situated her until her bottom was hanging just off the edge. "I could march you to the middle of the kingdom and mount you like a dog in heat in front of every citizen and there is nothing anybody could do about it, you understand?"

Tears filled her eyes, but the maid nodded.

Arthur grabbed the maids ankles and yanked her legs apart. The sight of her beautiful pink pussy sent a shiver down his spine. His fist wrapped around his cock, the wide head pressed against those puffy lips and he began to push his way in as she yelped and wiggled. The head sank in, but her tight cunt wouldn't let him in that easily. He began to work his hips back and forth until her wetness allowed him to sink in a little more. The maid shouted, she pulled her ankle from arthur and kicked off the stone table, pushing herself up. Arthur yanked her right back into place, he leaned over her and growled. "Don't run from this cock, girl."

With that, Arthur pressed himself in as deep as her tightness would allow and each stroke was hard. Her pussy let him in. His cock gleamed with blood as he kept working her pussy over, making it his. His balls slapped against her ass. Other maids passed the archway. They saw Arthur's buttocks tense and working at the young maid. Her feet visible on either side of his hips. They heard her moans and yips for help, but they knew of Arthur's thirst. Many had been taken by him before. They passed by, choosing different stairways up to the castle and let him have his way.

He held her in place, listened to her whines and protests as he rocked back and forth. Despite herself, her sex had started to drool and the noises followed. A loud wet sucking began. Her cheeks turned a deep red. The smell of her own cunt was impossible to ignore.

Suddenly, the maid began to moan. She rolled her hips and begged Arthur to fuck her harder. "Show me what I'm made for," she begged. "Teach my cunt to take your cock."

Arthur, the great king, was still a man and responded by emptying his large load into the tight cunt he had deflowered. The maid began to laugh. Her laughs went shrill, her blond hair turning an inky black against skin that went pale. "Well, brother, you've never been known to pass up a virgin."

"Morgan."

"Arthur," she mocked his tone as she sat up. His cum dripped down, rolling down her butt crack and onto the stone table. "Brother, pout for lesser women, I know you are familiar with my grip." Morgan took his warm hand, a hand she could feel in the pitch-black night and know to whom it belonged.

"The last time I saw you, you had convinced your new lover to cut out my tongue."

Morgan rolls her eyes. "I was only bored."

"You are wretched. You are hot and cold. You are a stormy day with blue skies. I know you only lure me closer to cast some plot."

Morgan's eyes soften, she cusps her brother's jaw in her soft, delicate hand. "You fret. War has taken its due. You have everyone in the village convinced of your great invincible body, but I can see the sleepless nights and the healed infections and the mud and the blood on your boots."

Arthur, with one big hand, wraps it around Morgan's throat and backs her against a table where she steadies her hands along the counter. He slides his knee between her legs. Her muscled thighs, soft and warm bare her scent. The golden body hair is gone and in its place her dark, coarse curls. Morgan, for all her hardness of heart, was still a woman. Soft and warm and deliciously colored pink between her folds. Arthur spat on his hand and roughly rubs the only lube he cares to use between his sister's legs. He plunges himself, long and hard, inside of her as she cries out in pain and lust, her fingernails digging into Arthur's flesh. He pushes her wrist against the wall, tossing her back, holding her by her wrists as his hips work between her thighs. She is wrapped taught around his fat cock. His toes begin to curl on the floor. He knows he's about to cum and so does Morgan, when she tightens down on him and cries out her pleas for his load. He grunts as he fills her with warm cum. The sound is so wet, the smell so obvious.

Morgan sits on the counter, propped up on her elbows as she grins. His cum is drooling out of her, forming a wet puddle on the wood beneath her. "Now, come meet my new husband, Accolon. Very passionate, very, very jealous. Has had four of my lovers put to death." Morgan closed her legs, her fat thighs pressed together. "Says he can smell me on other men."

"Yes," Arthur says. "Let's meet him."