Authors: Multiple
Chapter 4
After
hours of crying and pouting, Mirella’s anger had plenty of time to boil.
Despite her calming and matronly tone, her rage at disappointing her god, at
being denied him was the most intense emotion she had ever felt.
At the
palace, the Princess’s moods like this could go on for weeks at a time on
occasion. Here, under such dramatic circumstances, she feared for how stubborn
she could be. Sleep claimed her eventually, and in the midst of the night the
concubine-guards came to her in quiet, shifting through the dim, candle lit
tent to rouse the handmaid from her rest.
There
were no words, just a quiet look. Either it was ominous or they merely wished
to not wake the sleeping princess.
She was
a light sleeper at the best of times and disentangled herself from the sleeping
princess, whose deep sleep was difficult to rouse her from at the best of
times. Mirella primped as she followed them back the familiar route to the
breakfast nook, and her heart beat with excitement and fear.
Surely
he couldn’t have expected her to win over the princess so quickly. Perhaps if
she had informed the woman of her dead father, to have instigated her rage
sooner, she could have moved the process along quicker. Her footsteps were fast
and she nearly outpaced the guards as she sought to see her god and bare her
punishment for failure.
Mirella
found the man standing beneath the moonlight in almost nothing. The guard had
not dared follow her in, and so she was left alone with the visage of her new
idol, his dark, hard body seeming to glow in the moonlight. It took her awhile
to realize he was glistening with some light perspiration as he stood there in
his boots and pants only.
Turning
around he looked to her passively, and his words shook reality, “She is a
stubborn one.” So simple.
“Yes,
Your Greatness,” she sighed as she moved towards him, her fingers working the
ribbon of her dressing gown and leaving it partially open down the front. It
was quite brazen, of course, but it was done with such a natural ease that it
didn’t seem crass.
“I’m
considering if her father’s death will help or hinder your progress with her,”
she was no longer speaking to him, but to his body, her eyes working their way
over his form. There was no jealousy to her, no lamenting why he continued on
with other concubines. She accepted him as is and was only grateful for time
alone with him once more.
She
swore she could hear that familiar groan of leather as his manhood swelled
within his pants again. The dark lord reached out and took her in his hands,
held her shoulder and hip as he looked down over her body with such masculine
desire. “You can bend her to me,” he intoned darkly, and it was only
reassuring.
“I
will, Your Greatness. If there is any one thing I will do in this world, it
will be to see you happy,” she murmured. Her softer body yielded towards him as
her material gathered around his wrist, revealing more of her feminine form.
She swallowed as her heartbeat quickened, and she wanted him so badly. To see
him happy with her. To be the one he visited more than any other.
“The
Princess is headstrong, but easily led. She will take her time to be emotional,
but she trusts me. I will make sure she makes the right choice for you,” she
tilted her head up, looking over his muscled chest before finally meeting his
eyes.
Brushing
his hand over her cheek, he let the dress fall to the grass while his other
hand stroked across her hip to one of her generous breasts. Standing so close
to him, the swell of his manhood through his pants pressed against her, and she
knew he wanted her. “Tell me, what can I do to soften her heart in the
meantime. Will this stubborn princess be swayed by trinkets? Favours?”
He
spoke of the other woman, but as he lowered and tilted his head, he seemed
focussed only on her. He was consumed with desire for her as he supped at the
flesh of her neck, kissing, suckling and biting her there.
“If
you’ve spared some of her friends, it might be a relief, depending on how
supportive they are of you. To gain good will,” she murmured as her hands
pressed against his chest, feeling out his flesh so desirably. “Clothing,
amenities. A bedroom. Things the princess wants. Return her life to as close as
normalcy, and she will have an easier time processing this. Your men destroyed
most of the things she put value into, and it is making her more stubborn than
usual,” she purred out. One of her hands swept over the bulge in his pants and
she trembled with need.
She
leaned in, brushing her lips against his ribs, tracing them so hungrily as she
kissed his flesh, rubbing his manhood with growing speed and pressure.
The
depth of her advice, the cunning of it, seemed to please the giant of a man at
least as much as her touches. “Then I shall do that,” he said with certainty.
“I shall put her back in her room, restore things as best as can be done...” he
stroked her sleek, dark hair, cupped and squeezed her large breast, appreciated
the beauty of her voluptuous form in its totality. “But none of her friends
likely live. The court had to be eliminated, to make way for my reign,” he
insisted, throbbing against her touch so thickly. “You are the only friend she
can have.”
She
smiled as her fingers found that sweet release of his pants, plucking his
throbbing shaft from its confines with such relish. “I don’t know why that
should please me, but it does,” she said as her fist began to worshipfully
massage his member. “Certainly it isn’t that I enjoy her company, but to have
her rely upon only me...” her grin widened. “Besides, those pissants deserved
to die.”
Her
harsh words about the dead nobles seemed to bring a toothy smile to his face,
and he looked down at her as she began to pump his massive shaft in the night
air. The roll of his foreskin exposed the thick bulging ridge of his crown, and
a husky growl of pleasure brewed from within his chest.
“You’re
mine,” he stated possessively, his fingers knitted into her hair as he stroked
her head. “Will it help your cause if she thinks you were responsible for
negotiating these new arrangements? Or would it be more beneficial to me to
take credit for my gifts?” he asked as his powerful hand, coarse and strong,
kneaded her breast flesh, teased and toyed with her areola and stiff nipple.
She
thought about it, or at the very least tried. Her mind was quickly beginning to
give way to a haze of delight at his hands, his hardness throbbing against her
palms. “Take credit,” she murmured. “The Princess must see you as her ‘saviour
Prince’. I’m but a lowly handmaiden,” she purred. It sounded so incredibly
selfless, but the deviousness was obvious.
Her
body ached for him and that distracting wetness between her thighs grew as she
massaged his member. Again there was no intent for him to cum, just a pure
enjoyment of feeling him in all of his glory.
Leaning
down, the obsidian giant plushly placed a kiss against her pouty lips. “You
know your place well,” he husked so complimentary, “how can I meet with you
without raising the Princess’s suspicions? I need your reports,” he stated, his
voice hanging for just a moment before he squeezed her breast painfully hard,
“I want your flesh.” Despite his magnificence, his power, when he spoke in that
lust laden voice, it had a way of making her feel like all the world had fallen
away and she was the sole object of his desire.
“She
sleeps well, Your Greatness,” she whispered against his lips. “I need little
sleep to be rested, and I would do without for months if it meant more time
with you.” She swallowed hard, her hand and her stomach trapping his cock in
the heated embrace of her flesh, her large breasts pressed against him as if
encouraging his hard squeezes. The way she moaned with each new pain seemed to
demonstrate her joy quite well.
With
his hand in her hair and upon her chest, he twisted her around. To be
manhandled by a god as she was bent over, pushed down so that she had to rest
her hands against the soapstone table where he’d first taken her.
“You
serve well,” he husked as he brought his thick pillar to her quim, the
slickness of her cunny kissing the bulbous crown. “If you fail to produce me an
heir, I shall be saddened by that.” He stabbed himself into her, forcing that
thick girth to the very base of her quim and yet still more of his length
unable to fit.
She
braced herself and for only a second she wondered if this was where he took the
other women before all thought and reason left her. All that was left was that
aching fullness, that needy, hard cock as it battered into her from a new
angle, sending familiar tendrils of ecstasy up and down her form. Though she
didn’t cum right away as she had last time, her pussy tightened around that
gigantic member, her breasts flattened atop the cold table and the sensation
teasing her higher.
This
time was rougher, harder, and more primal than the first. It was as if in the
pale moonlight this beast of a king was fuelled in his dark desires. He held
her generous hips in place, keeping her from moving too far from his hold as he
pounded her from behind. If this was the kind of treatment he gave other women,
there was no wonder as to why they looked so blown away after their encounters
with him.
The
hard, dull thuds of his iron cock shaft impacting her depths were each a new
reminder of the throbbing pain she’d carry from this experience long
afterwards. The slap of his heavy balls against her sodden clit and mons like a
mocking clap in the dark of night. But the sweet sounds of husky male
satisfaction were delicious enough to make up for it, especially as she felt
his member swell and the flood of thick virile seed to follow.
She
huffed against his force, and she wasn’t even entirely sure if she had yet cum
herself. She had certainly felt pleasure coalesce within her body, but he had
taken her to a place she’d never been before. Somewhere beyond mortal needs and
flesh. Somewhere within herself and yet outside of all reality at the same
time. When she felt him release within her, it grounded her instantly and all
that otherworldly experience had her body shuddering around him with an
intensity she didn’t know possible.
Panting
over top of her, he stroked his fingers down her spine, eliciting a trill of
excitement as his cock throbbed and disgorged the last of its virile seed into
her eager cunt. “If only the princess were as agreeable and pleasing to me as
you,” he remarked. A hand squeezed her ass cheek before he pulled out of her,
leaving a void within that only a man as impressively large as he could ever
hope to fill.
Her
hand instantly went down, cupping herself and hoping not to drop a single glob,
though it was a fruitless thing. It poured over her fingertips, both of their
juices leaving her hands sticky and slippery in the dim light. “I wish so too,
if only to better aid you,” she sighed, genuine desire hidden in her lust laden
voice.
Placing
a hand on her cheek, he guided the servant up and tilted her gaze to him as the
pair stood in the grove, her legs wobbly after the hard fucking. “Find a way to
fulfill my wishes, and you shall be lucky compared to her in the end, sweet
concubine,” he promised, and then a thought seemed to take him. “What is your
name?”
“Mirella,
Your Greatness,” she whispered. It was as though she’d been utterly humbled,
and his asking for her name was the greatest gift she could have been offered,
even more so than the rutting that had left her weak and dizzied. Gratitude
flooded her body and she wanted, even more so, to please her god.
His
hand released hold of her head and he stroked back over her dark hair,
“Mirella,” he repeated, as if tasting her name upon his tongue experimentally
and liking it. “Go back to your charge, Mirella. And dream of a day when you no
longer tend to prickly princesses, but are mother to warlord princes.”
She
bowed, but her eyes never left him, still so eager for him even as she limped
back, feeling the exquisite ache so deep within her, hand still lovingly
cupping her sex and her robe haphazardly closed around her.
Chapter 5
Mirella
awoke to an odd sound. The princess had somehow awaked before her and was
talking to someone else in the tent. She could only attribute it to the late
nights spent serving the God-King. Those moments were so deeply satisfying, but
they had a way of leaving her exhausted the next day, of course.
“Those
savages couldn’t have defeated us fairly,” declared Anabelle. “They don’t even
have a real army!” The petite little princess was speaking to three of the
other concubines, women of Ariste who—in their new scanty little
outfits—seemed more amenable to their leader’s speech, nodding along.
“The King is out there somewhere. Don’t listen to the lies! Our soldiers will
return home and liberate us.”
Before
Mirella could intervene, one of the northerners responded in her stead. “We may
not have the sort of army you once had, little woman,” declared a short haired
barbarian, “but we have our own special ways. And the God-King knows best how
to use them,” she said, down casting her eyes at the mention of their leader.
Outrage
and insult flooded Mirella’s face, but she quickly swept it aside, once more
hiding her true feelings under a mask of calm. “My Princess, war is never fair,
but if your father were alive, he hasn’t come back for us.”
That
denial sent Anabelle’s expression into a state of shock. Her eyes wide in
disbelief at Mirella’s ‘outrageous’ assertion, she looked ready to either break
down into tears or attack the servant. “How dare you,” she muttered with barely
any force to her words. The petite princess struck out with a slap, her weak
wrist able to do little more than inflict a mild stinging at her insolent
servant.
She
made it seem like it hurt a lot more, her hand clasping her jaw as her eyes
widened, “Princess!” she gasped. “It’s obvious to any here! His daughter is in
danger—the Princess!—and yet he’s done nothing to save you from
your lot! We’re surrounded by the dead! I only want what is best for you, my
lady, to see you protected and safe, and if your father will not, then I will!”
She saw
from the fire in Anabelle’s eyes that her words would not sink in just yet,
however. The princess was too full of indignations rage to see the reason of
her ‘false’ words.
Before
things could escalate further, however, He returned.
A hush
consumed the room, and as the God-King strode in he had a smile. A light smile,
“Princess,” he addressed Anabelle, “I have come bearing good tidings for you.”
The look on Anabelle’s disturbed and repulsed face almost seemed to betray hope
for a moment.
“What
tidings could YOU bring me that would be good?” she said scornfully, making her
reference to him sound insulting by itself.
She
took a step back away from the Princess, embarrassed at having been caught so
with the Anabelle. She would hang that little bitch herself if she didn’t
submit to the god soon. Her rage dissipated, however, as her eyes scanned him
greedily, and her desire to make the Princess his rose.
Dressed
in his usual attire, the cloak draped diagonally across his exquisitely
sculpted torso, he looked as stunning as ever, his immaculate hair so rich and
lustrous in its dark glory.
“I’ve
arranged for you to return to your rooms in the palace,” he said. “You can go
back to living there, with my blessing and some tokens of my affection.” It was
generous of him, “And in addition,” he gestured to Mirella, making her heart
stop, “you can have your servant with you.”
It was
all so perfect, then Anabelle spat on it, “You can’t buy me off!” She nearly
shrieked. Her obstinacy knew no bounds as she stood and clenched her fists. “I
will go back to my rooms alone to await the King!” she declared, storming
around the God-King and being caught by two of the guard-concubines. He waved
them off, and they let her go, instead escorting her on ahead into the palace
as he lingered to look to Mirella with a hint of confusion on his handsome,
broad face.
Shame
broiled through her, and for the first time, her eyes dropped away from his
body and towards the floor, “The Princess is upset. I will speak with her in
the morning.” She’d pushed too far, too hard. It’d been too much. She cursed
herself at her failure.