The Kingdom Ch. 01
Prince Atheling took careful aim with his crossbow and let the bolt fly. The poor pigeon never had a chance as the bolt struck it and it tumbled out of the sky. But as it did, it fluttered down behind the grove of bushes that lined the bottom of the castle wall.
Stepping over to the bushes, he parted them with his hands and stepped inside to search for the bird. The growth was thick and he had to fight his way through the bushes as he looked for the bird. Then, moving over to castle wall where the growth wasn’t quite as thick, he stepped down the wall searching for his bird. As he moved along, he saw a loophole in the wall. Wondering what in looked in on, he stepped over and peered through it.
What he saw would haunt him to his dying day and change the whole land around him. The fiery spasm of perverse excitement that fired off in his brain made him dizzy as he gawked in the loophole in stunned silence.
It was his mother, Queen Ides. And she was naked! Naked and standing in a big, copper tub while her hand maid stood beside her running a soapy washcloth over the queen’s naked body. He knew that his mother had a beautiful face but the rest of her body had remained a mystery to him. He had heard it said that the queen was one of the most beautiful women in the land and what he now saw convinced him that the rumors had been right. She was exquisitely beautiful, he told himself as he stared on in reverent awe.
She stood with her back facing the loophole. Her breasts were so large, Atheling could see their rounded sides extending out beyond her arms. Her ebony black hair hung down in wet strands, the curled tips just brushing the rounded slope of her shoulders. Atheling let his eyes wander down the sweep of her back, down to the cheeks of her perfect ass. Letting his hungry eyes explore the unrivaled beauty of her ass, he imagined that it had to have been carved out of the purest, white alabaster by the hand of a master sculptor. And below it, her long, shapely legs swooped and curved down and down until they were hidden behind the copper tub. Atheling stared on in worshipful reverence, watching as soap bubbles slowly slithered down the sweep of her graceful back and legs. While his mother’s body partially blocked his view of the handmaid, he could see that the handmaid was running the washcloth over his mother’s big, jutting breasts.
Guiltily, he could feel his big his prick growing hard as he peeked in at his mother. But he had no control over it. His body was built to react in a certain way in the presence of such beauty, and it was performing as designed. Even if it was his mother who was generating such a depraved response.
His heart was pounding, his mouth was as dry as the Sahara, and his hands were trembling from the rush of adrenaline that was pouring through his bloodstream as he gaped on. Just then, as he watched on with expectant anticipation, his mother slowly turned and faced the loophole.
She stood facing him with her eyes closed as he feasted his eyes on her beautiful face and body. While he did, her handmaiden was slowly wiping the soapy cloth his mother’s back.
As she had turned, his eyes had been immediately drawn from her face down to the two perfect, white breasts dangling down from her chest. They were exquisite! He had seen breasts before, but never any of such incomparable size and beauty. Comparing her breasts to the breasts he had seen before was like comparing apples to melons. It was obvious that the same master sculptor that had sculpted her perfect ass had molded her exquisite breasts. The only difference was the white alabaster he had chosen for her breasts was laced with faint veins of blue. And the sculptor had tipped each of the magnificent sculptures with a perfectly round circle of a darker pink. Then, as a crowning touch, he had topped each of them off with a jutting nipple of purple. The beautiful sculptures were monuments to the personification of femininity and womanhood.
Finally able to tear his eyes away from the jiggling, bobbing giants, he ran his eyes down over the softly rounded swell of her abdomen. It wasn’t hard and flat like the bellies of the hardworking wenches he had enticed into the stables, but its slight roundness made her seem just that much more exotic. More alluring. More sensual.
At last his eyes swept down over the V of her belly and the tangle of damp, black curls that covered it. The rumors didn’t do her justice, he sickly thought. She wasn’t one of the most beautiful women in the land, she was THE most beautiful woman in the land . . . maybe even in the whole wide world.
As he gawked on with reverent awe, he watched his mother, the queen slowly bend down and grasp hold of the rounded edge of the copper tub. Resting her weight on her hands, she slowly inched her long legs apart. As she did, Atheling saw the handmaiden’s hands appear up between the queen’s widespread legs. The hand slowly slipped up through the queen’s legs with a finger extended and found the queen’s large, swollen clit. Then, Atheling thought his fully hardened prick was going to explode as he watched the girl stick out two fingers and ease them up into the queen’s cunt. Was this where the title “handmaiden” came from, he dizzily wondered, watching the girl slide her fingers in and out of the queen sopping pussy. Watching the handmaiden rub her finger back and forth across the queen’s swollen clit as she fucked the queen’s cunt with her fingers was the most perversely exciting thing he’d ever seen.
Watching his mother’s giant tits bobble up and down as the girl fucked her with her fingers, Atheling dug his hand down into his britches and hauled out his big, stiff prick. He couldn’t believe this was all happening as he stroked his cock and watched his mother, the queen getting fucked by her handmaiden. This was his mother, the queen. The very epitome of purity and virtue in his eyes. And she was letting her handmaiden fuck her with her fingers. It was all just too much.
He could feel the cum down in his balls beginning to bubble and boil as he continued to whack his cock while he watched.
All at once, his mother’s head flew back. She let out a loud, gasping grunt and her whole body began to shake and shiver. Then her hips began to bob up and down as she fucked the handmaiden’s fingers while they slid in and out of her cunt.
This went on for the longest time, until at last, he saw the grimace melt off his mother’s pretty face and her hips ground to a slow stop. As they did, the handmaiden eased her fingers out of the queen’s pussy and swirled them around in the soapy water to wash away the goo that covered them.
That did it for Atheling as he felt his peter lurch and spurt out a giant wad of cum onto the castle wall.
As Atheling’s continued to jerk and spurt out more and more thick, gooey cum, he watched as his mother pushed up off the edge of the tub and stood back up. Her massive breasts floundered about wildly as she stepped out of the tub and then walked out of his line of sight.
At last his cock stopped spurting and began to soften. Stuffing it back in his pants, he stumbled back out of the bushes and headed back to his room with the image of his beautiful mother dancing in his head.
From that day forward, young Prince Atheling spent a goodly portion of his time spying on the queen whenever the opportunity presented itself.
Then one day another even more lurid display of lewdness unfolded before his eyes.
His mother was bathing, alone this time. She was sitting in the copper tub slowly running a soapy washcloth over her gigantic tits as Atheling stood watching and slowly working his hand up and down his big, rock-hard cock. Then Atheling heard a sound. It came from out of his line of sight so he couldn’t see what made the sound. But he saw his mother turn her head to the side and smile. From his loophole, Atheling initially couldn’t see what had caused the smile but he quickly found out, as his father, the king came walking up to the tub where his mother sat. His father said something to the queen, but Atheling couldn’t make out what he said.
Just then, the queen slowly laid the washcloth on the edge of the tub and reached out to the front of the king’s britches. Looking up at the king with a mischievous smile on her pretty lips, she began to unbutton the buttons running down the front of the king’s breeches. Atheling could see the big bulge thrusting out against his father’s pants as his mother’s finger’s crawled downward over it. Then when she unbuttoned the last button, she slowly spread the king’s breeches open and his big, limp prick flopped out into the open.
Atheling heard the queen murmur something, but couldn’t make out the words as he watched her take his father’s cock in her hand and slowly lift it up to her mouth. What was she doing, he giddily wondered? Was she going to put his father’s cock in her mouth? He’d never heard of such a thing, but it sent a shiver of excitement trickling through his own cock as he watched. Then he saw his mother open her mouth and slowly, sensually ease the big, purple head of the king’s cock into her mouth. Atheling jerked his hand away from his cock not wanting to shoot his wad before he saw what was going to happen next.
The queen kept leaning forward easing her lips down the flaccid shaft of the king’s cock until at last, her full, red lips were encircling its thick, hairy base. She had the whole damned thing inside her mouth, Atheling giddily thought. The whole thing! He couldn’t believe it. Then he saw the queen’s cheeks hollow as she began to suck on the king’s cock. As she did, the king reached down and lovingly ran his pudgy fingers through her damp, black hair.
Atheling watched on in an envious daze as the queen eagerly sucked on the king’s peter. Time seemed to fly by and it seemed to be only a matter of seconds before the king’s prodigious peter was jutting out in front of him stiff and hard.
Now the queen had her hands wrapped around the jutting monster as she hungrily devoured it with her mouth. As she gobbled away, the king curled his fingers down into the queen’s hair and began working his fat ass back and forth while he slowly fucked the queen’s pretty face. As the king’s big dick slid in and out between the queen’s lips, she ran her hands around to his ass, clutching it, pushing and pulling on it to control the tempo of the lewd act.
Was he going to come in her mouth, Atheling wondered? Was the queen going to let him shoot his wad in her mouth? The king’s ass moved back and forth faster and faster until all of a sudden, he jerked back and pulled his spit-covered peter out of her mouth. Then he reached down and took hold of her hands.
Atheling watched on as she struggled to her feet in the tub. Streams of bubbly water coursed down her exquisite body as the king let go of her hands and pushed his pants down his hairy legs. Stepping out of them, he took the queen’s hand as she stepped out of the tub. Atheling watched her mammoth breasts quiver and bob as the king led her toward her big, queen-sized, four poster bed. The king’s big, stiff peter jutted out in front of him, flouncing up and down wildly as he shuffled toward the bed.
Reaching the bed, the queen immediately crawled up on it and rolled over onto her back. Atheling watched on in an envious rage as she quickly spread her legs apart and fingered her pussy open. Now she was open and ready for the king as he quickly crawled up between her outstretched legs. If only it were me she was inviting down between her legs, Atheling jealously thought as the king grabbed hold of his cock and aimed it down at the gaping hole between her legs. If only that was my cock, Atheling resentfully thought as he watched the king mount her and slide his big peter down inside the queen’s greedy cunt.
Atheling couldn’t watch anymore. He wanted her so badly he ached all over as he stuffed his cock back in his pants and stumbled back out of the bushes. There had to be a way, he told himself. A way to get the queen mother into his bed. He wouldn’t be able to rest until he did.
His delusional fixation on his mother grew with each passing day until it became an obsession with him. And as his obsession with his mother grew, his hate for his father, the king grew on a proportional scale. He was tottering on the brink of insanity when he finally decided he had to act . . .
~
Prince Atheling’s big, black war-horse went clattering across the drawbridge and out into the bailey of the castle. Reining the behemoth to a stop, he tossed the reins down to the groom waiting for him and dropped to his feet by the giant horse. Patting the horse’s lathered neck, he turned and quickly strode across the stone floor toward the castle entrance.
Stepping inside, he saw that everyone was dressed in black. Every one was grieving for the lately departed king. His father, good King Enclaus, had been killed by a bolt from a crossbow in the recent battle of Hastings. Too bad, Prince Atheling smiled to himself, finding little incentive to mourn the passing of his father. His father’s death had conveniently opened up a whole new world to Prince Atheling. And soon, he would no longer be Prince Atheling! He would be christened King Atheling. The new king and it would be him ruling the land, not his poor, deceased father. Then, at last, he would finally be able to quiet the insistent craving that he had carried with him for so long.
The only thing nagging the prince was the little sliver of guilt he felt. How could the bolt from his crossbow go so far wide? It was almost as if the bolt had a mind of its own and had flown straight for his father’s heart. And how could he have known of the chink in his father’s mail that had been weakened by the hand of someone close to the king? How could he, the best crossbowman in the land have his shot go so wrong? Why if one didn’t know better, one would say that he did it on purpose. And now, it was his destiny to take over the land. Take his father’s place. Take over the land and the king’s possessions. All of the old king’s possessions . . .
Just then, Prince Atheling saw his mother, Queen Ides come striding toward him with tears streaming down her pretty face. She was dressed in a long, flowing, black cote-hardie and he couldn’t keep from dropping his eyes down to her bounteous bosom as it floundered about under the dress. The sweeping neckline of the black, velvet dress revealed the tops of her large breasts and seemed to magnify their size and volume. And the fact that her breasts were filled with breast milk made Prince Atheling even more determined to have them as his own.
“Oh, my son,” she blubbered out, stepping up to him and wrapping her arms around him.
The prince reveled in the feel of her bosom crushed against his chest as he slowly wrapped his arms around her to return her hug.
“I’m so sorry, mother,” Prince Atheling lied, crocodile tears streaming down his cheeks as he pulled her to him. “I wish that it had been me instead of him . . .”
“No, no, you mustn’t think that, my son. What is done is done. Now we must move on,” she wept, stepping back and daintily dabbing at her tear-stained cheek with a black, silk handkerchief. “I can only be thankful that the both of you weren’t taken from me.”
“You still have a part of him,” Prince Atheling said, reaching out and wiping away a big tear off her cheek with the back of a finger. “You have Prince Gothling . . . and me . . .”
“Yes, I know and if you’ll excuse me, my Lord, I must go to the prince now,” she told him, stepping back away from him. “It is time for his feeding . . .”
“We’ll talk later, my Queen,” he mumbled watching her turn away from him.
Then he stood watching the sway of her long, black dress as she quickly made her way over to the nursery maid who stood holding little Prince Gothling. Nursing time, he thought, watching the queen lead the maid across the main hall toward her quarters. Enjoy your time with your other son while you may, my mother, he said to himself. For Prince Gothling’s remaining time on this earth is short . . .
In a week’s time, the coronation of Prince Atheling was over and he was now the king of the land. After he was king, he systematically set about replacing his father’s men with ones he knew were loyal to himself. Finally, there was only one last detail left that he needed to take care of. Prince Gothling! Prince Gothling, his brother, was his last threat to the throne. And that threat had to be removed . . .
He sent a message to Baron Sade, his most trusted and loyal friend inviting him to join him in his chambers . . .
“Baron, my friend,” the king smiled, motioning for the Baron to take a seat in the ornate chair that sat by the roaring fire. “I’ve brought you here to ask a great favor of you.”
“Yes, my sire?” the baron asked, smiling and taking the gold goblet of wine that the king offered him. “What can a lowly baron do for my king?”
“I have a task for you that calls for a most discrete handling,” the king said, stepping over to the other chair sitting by the fireplace. “I would do it myself, but it would be so, so unkingly, shall we say.”
“What is this task, my sire?” the baron asked, taking a sip of wine.
“It is one for which you will be well rewarded for, my liege,” the king smiled.
“What my sire? What? The suspense is killing me,” the baron asked.
“Prince Gothling!” the king stated.
The baron looked back at him with a puzzled look on his face. “Prince Gothling? I don’t understand my Lord.”
“I need someone to remove the last challenge to my throne . . .”
“You—you mean—you mean kill Prince Gothling?” the baron choked out his face turning an ashen white.
“Yes, that is what I mean! And the rank of earl will be yours when the job is done.”
Atheling could almost hear the wheels turning inside the baron’s head as the color slowly seeped back into his face.
“Earl! Earl of Sade? That does have a nice ring to it, doesn’t it,” the baron smiled, the shock of the request seemingly dissipated by the promise of the new rank.
“Then you’ll do this for me?” the king asked, taking another sip of wine.
“Consider it done, my sire,” the baron said, lifting his goblet in a salute to the king. “Your wish is my command . . .”
The next morning, the king rose early and went out to his throne.
The wait was short as he heard a horrifying scream rent the air of the castle. The scream came from the queen’s quarters and he immediately knew that the baron, no, make that the Earl of Sade had been successful.
Just then, the door to the queen’s chamber’s crashed open and the queen came staggering out carrying the lifeless body of Prince Gothling in her arms.
“He is dead!” she screamed. “Dead! Who would kill such a dear child?”
Just then, her eyes found his. A momentary look of hate flitted across her face and she held the baby out toward him.
“He’s dead . . .” she groaned out, dropping to her knees and clutching the child to her bosom.
Now she’ll need someone else to suckle those big breasts, he sickly thought. And I know just the person to take over for poor, Prince Gothling.
The king let his mother mourn the loss of her son for a week before he put his plan into motion. After the week passed, he sent a note to her asking her to join him in his quarters. And to bring milk with her for he was thirsting for a drink of milk.Sitting by the fireplace, King Atheling sipped on a goblet of wine as he waited for his mother to respond to his request. The roaring fire had taken the chill off the room as the brisk winds of winter blew outside. Snow had begun to fall and was now beginning to stick to the ground. It promised to be a day that would drive a person inside, he told himself, smiling in anticipation of what he had planned to occupy himself on this cold, blustery day.
When he heard the light knock on the door, he set his goblet down and slowly walked to the door. Pulling it open, he saw his mother standing in the hall with a jug of milk in her hands.
“Come in, Mother,” he said, stepping aside and waving his hand in a flourish to welcome her inside.
“I’ve brought your milk, my sire,” she murmured, stepping inside as the king closed the door behind her.
“I see you have,” Atheling said, “Put it on the table and come sit.”
He watched her slowly step to the table and set the jug on it. Then he motioned to the same chair that the Earl of Sade had sat in on that auspicious day that he had agreed to kill Prince Gothling.
As she sat down, Atheling strolled over to the other chair and sat down facing her.
“I am lonely, Mother and I have decided to take a queen to ease that loneliness,” he smiled, taking a tiny sip of wine.
“Oh,” she murmured. “Who? Who is to be your new queen?”
“I have decided to invoke my kingly right to succession,” he said, watching her as she looked back at him with a puzzled look on her face. “Invoke my right to take the hand of the old king’s queen.”
“What?” she gasped.
“I have no need for another queen,” the prince smiled, letting his eyes stray down to her bosom, then back to her ashen face. “I have my mother to stand by my side as my queen . . .”
Her hand flew up to her throat as she looked at him with a fearful, confused look on her pretty face.
“Me? Your mother? Your mother as your queen?” she gasped. “How can that be?”
“I am the king, mother! I can do anything I please . . .” he grinned. “Anything I please . . . and it would be best if one didn’t forget that . . .”
“Yes, my sire,” she mumbled, staring at him with a shocked look on her face.
Then Atheling pushed himself up out of the chair and purposefully stepped over to the table. He could see that his revelation had unsettled her as he reached out and picked up the jug of milk.
As she sat watching him, he slowly tipped the jug. The white milk poured out onto the floor, splashing and sending white droplets flying all over, some of them even splattering onto her dress.
“My sire,” she gasped, staring down at the milk as it spread out over the floor. “Why? You . . . you told me to bring milk.”
“Come, my Mother,” he said, placing the empty jug on the table and stepping over to where she sat. “Did you really think I wanted cow’s milk when I can have mother’s milk!”
“What, what do you mean?” she asked as he stood smugly looking down at her.
Atheling reached down to her and slowly ran his fingers over the swell of her bosom. “This is the milk I thirst for, Mother.”
Ides gasped, staring down at her son’s hand as it brushed across her heaving bosom.
“You can’t . . . you can’t . . . I can’t . . . not that,” she whimpered, starting to push his hand away, but thinking better of it.
“Yes, Mother, I can,” he told her kneeling to the floor in front of her. “Remember, Mother, dear, I am the king, and I can do as I wish.”
Then, as she stared down at his hand, she watched as he began to unbutton the bodice of her dress.
“This is . . . you can’t . . . please . . .” she begged as he continued to slowly move his fingers down the front of her dress unbuttoning button after button. “I am your mother . . .”
“But I am also your king . . .” Atheling reminded her. “And you have milk that is going to waste. You have no one to give it to . . . And what can be wrong with giving your milk to your own son? Just as you did, lo those long years ago.”
“Please, my king, please, don’t do this,” she begged.
Finally Atheling’s fingers stopped moving down her dress which was now unbuttoned all the way down to her waist.
Looking down, she could see that his fingers were trembling as he delicately pinched the material between his fingers and thumbs and slowly began to spread her dress open.
She couldn’t stop the blush of red that painted her face as Atheling spread her dress open to reveal the two ripened melons jutting out from her chest. They were exquisite examples of motherhood as they hung down from her chest, heavy and laden with mother’s milk.
Atheling had never seen a pair of breasts so beautiful as he gawked down at the drooping treasures. So full, so ripe like two melons ready to be harvested. Melons filled with the nectar of the gods. Nectar to quench the thirst that he had endured for so long. He had thought them to be big before, but now, heavily laden with breast milk, they were huge.
And now they were his. Cherished prizes to feast his eyes on and his to bring forth the liquid treasure they held.
King Atheling slowly ran the tips of his fingers over his mother’s sagging udders, marveling in their smooth softness.
“So beautiful . . .” he whispered, gently fingering the swollen, purple nipple that jutted out of the center of the darkened tip of one giant breast.
“Please, my king, please don’t do this . . .” she wept as tears began to flow down her cheeks and drip down off her jaws onto her quivering breasts.
“But I must, Mother,” he murmured. “We mustn’t let the treasure they hold go to waste. I must taste your sweet mother’s milk once again. Taste it and drink from your beautiful breast just as I did so long ago.”
As he spoke, Atheling gently cupped the tear-slickened breast and slowly lifted it up to his mouth.
“Please, my king . . .” she begged watching him purse his lips around the big, jutting nipple.
Atheling began to gently suck on the swollen pap. As he did, milk began to flow from it. Slowly at first, the sweet milk trickled out into his mouth as he savored its rich sweetness. As he suckled her, she wept, her sobs making her other udder quiver and bobble beside his face. The flow of milk flowing out into his mouth slowly became thicker and thicker as he sucked harder and harder.
Finally, Atheling let go of his mother’s nipple and kissed his way down into the valley between her big, milk-laden breasts and up onto her other quivering breast. As he did, milk continued to trickle out of the nipple he had just suckled. The white liquid ran down the rounded under slope of her breast and down onto her heaving belly to where it was soaked up by her dress. But it went unseen by him as he pursed his lips around her other nipple and began to suck on it.
His mother continued to weep as he drank his fill of her sweet mother’s milk. At last, he was finished with her breasts. Then, as she continued to sniffle and try to choke back the tears, Atheling pushed up to his feet in front of her. Looking down at her, he watched as she ran the backs of her hands across her tear-stained cheeks trying to wipe away the tears.
“My britches,” Atheling said to her. “Open my britches, Mother.”
Her mouth dropped open as she stared up at him in disbelief.
“No—no—you can’t—not that,” she gasped.
“Open my britches, Mother,” he said, watching a look of revulsion wash across her face. “Open my britches and find your king’s gift to you. I wish to repay your generous offering of milk with a gift of my own milk.”
“No—no—I can’t—” she wept, her eyes dropping down to the bulge jutting out in the front of his britches.
“You must, my queen,” he told her, reaching down and roughly grasping her hand in his. “I am your king. It is your duty as queen to please your king . . .”
Just then, he lifted her hand and shoved it up against the bulge.
“No—no—please, my king,” she pleaded as he held her trembling hand thrust against his hard, throbbing cock.
“Feel it? Feel what your beauty has done to it! It is you who have done this to me. It is you that has made it hard and swollen,” he snarled. “Now you must take it and make it soft once again.”
“Oh, my Lord, please, please don’t do this thing. It’s, it’s sacrilege . . .” she wept.
“Open my britches, my queen,” he told her, a hint of anger creeping into his voice.
More tears were streaming down her cheeks dropping down onto her quivering breasts as she wept. Then finally, her trembling fingers crept up to the button at the top of his britches. Sobbing plaintively, she slowly pushed the button through the buttonhole. Then with a look of fear, she slowly spread open his pants. As she did, Atheling’s big, hard penis sprang out into the open.
He heard the sharp intake of breath as his mother stared at the giant, evil creature bobbing up and down in front of her face.
“Touch it, my queen,” Atheling told her, stepping closer. “Touch your king’s royal scepter.”
“I can’t—please, I can’t,” she sobbed. “I’m your mother . . . please don’t make me do this . . .”
“But you’re my queen; too,” he told her, inching even closer. “And it is your duty to please your king!”
Then, he grabbed hold of her trembling hand again and roughly thrust it against his twitching cock.
“Touch it and feel its power,” he said, holding her shaking hand against his cock. “Wouldn’t you like to feel that power down between your legs. Feel its power filling your cunt . . .”
“Please—please—please—” she pleaded, straining to pull her hand away from his cock.
“But you must, my queen . . . it is my command . . . and you know what happens to those who disobey the king’s commands, don’t you,” he told her, straining to hold her hand against his penis.
As the threat sank in, he felt her slowly stop resisting.
“Hold it,” he ordered her. “Hold it in your hand and fondle it.”
“Please, please, my king, don’t . . . don’t make me do this,” she wept.
But even as she spoke her little hand slowly curled around the thick shaft of his jutting cock.
“Is it bigger?” he asked her, thrusting his cock at her. “Is it bigger than my father’s cock was?”
“Yes—yes,” she hissed. “Yes, it is bigger than your father’s . . .”
Yes, he arrogantly thought. He was bigger than his father was, and now he was going to lay claim to the treasure that his father had hoarded all the long years. Now that treasure that lay down between her pretty legs was waiting for him. Waiting for him to take it as his own.
“Kiss it,” he commanded. “Kiss the royal scepter with your lips . . .”
“No—I can’t,” she whined.
“But you must . . . you must show it respect before it enters your sacred chalice,” he scoffed. “Show it the same respect that you showed to father’s royal scepter. Surely you didn’t disrespect father’s scepter, did you?”
“No—no—I didn’t disrespect your father,” she whimpered. “I did touch it that way . . . to please him, but you, you’re my son.”
“Then please your new king, too,” he grunted, reaching out and cupping the back of her head in the palm of his hand.
Straining against her resistance, he forced her head toward him at the same time he inched his hips forward.
“Take it,” he growled as the big, purple head of his cock nudged up against her full, red lips. “Take it in your mouth and show it your respect!”
Pressing his cock against her soft lips, he continued to pull her toward him. Finally, he watched her lips part and the head of his cock slowly slipped in between them.
“Suck on it, my queen,” he panted, thrusting his cock into her mouth. “Suck on it just like you sucked on father’s cock. Suck out its sweet essence.”
Pushing his cock into her mouth, he had almost half of his cock buried down inside it before he felt her begin to tentatively suck on it. He wanted to come in her mouth so badly. But he couldn’t. Not the first time. The first time must be reserved for her cunt. He must fill it with his seed and let her give him an heir. Once she was with child, his child, then he would make her drink from his fountain of youth. Make her drink from it and swallow its creamy load down into her belly.
“Harder—suck it harder—” he ordered her, reaching out and grabbing hold of a handful of her hair. Then he felt her suck harder as he held her head in between his hands and fucked her pretty face.
Tears were still streaming down her face, dripping down onto his muscular thighs and her bobbling breasts as he fucked her hot mouth.
At last, he slowly backed his jutting prick out of his mother’s mouth. As it came out she was sucking on it so hard, it made a loud, slurping sound. As he looked down at her, he saw that she couldn’t return his look as her eyes shifted from side to side avoiding his. Then, he reached down and took her hands in his. Gently pulling on them, he lifted her to her feet. As she stood, her big, heavy breasts bobbled and quivered making her swollen nipples bob up and down flinging drops of milk every where.
Atheling slowly peeled her dress down off her the slope of her shoulders and down her arms. Then, he dug his thumbs down under her dress and began easing it down over her rounded hips. Leaning down as he pushed her dress lower, he found one of her jutting nipples with his lips and began teasing his tongue back and forth across it. All at once, her dress went slithering down her legs to puddle at her feet. Stepping back, King Atheling saw that she was wearing a pair of shimmering, red, satin pantaloons. They were the only thing hiding her treasure from his hungry eyes.
“Please, my king . . . please don’t do this . . . I will do the other to respect your royal scepter, but please, not this . . .” she pleaded holding her arms crossed in front of her mammoth breasts.
“But my queen, how am I to father an heir, if we don’t’,” he said. “We must . . .”
Reaching down with both hands, he quickly pushed her red pantaloons down over the swell of her hips. As her pantaloons went whispering down her legs, Atheling saw the forest of curly, black curls covering the Y of her belly. But he had only a momentary glance at it before she covered it with a hand.
“Please, please, my king, please, anything but this . . . ” she wept, trying to hide herself from his prying eyes.
“Come, my beautiful queen,” he murmured, taking hold of the hand covering the mass of black curls at the base of her softly rounded belly.
“Please, my King, we can’t, not that . . . please . . . don’t hurt me,” she wept straining back away from him, digging her feet in to keep from being pulled toward the bed.
“Come, my Queen, and you will suffer no injuries, only pleasure,” he told her, tugging her toward the bed.
“Please,” she whined, tears running down her cheeks as she fought against him.
“I do not wish to harm you. So you must stop resisting. It is inevitable . . .” he growled, a hint of anger in his voice.
Suddenly, the resistance flowed from her body and she went limp, letting herself be docilely led to the bed.
“Crawl onto the bed,” he told her, releasing her hand.
Meekly, she leaned down over the bed, her huge tits swinging below her as she placed knee on the bed and crawled up on it. As she did, King Atheling lovingly ran his fingers over the soft smoothness of her perfect, round ass. This, too, one day, my Queen, he promised himself.
Unbuttoning his ruffled blouse, he watched her lower herself down onto her belly and then slowly roll over onto her back. He stood looking down at her massive breasts as they jiggled softly while she lay with her head turned to the side, softly sobbing and avoiding his eyes.
Peeling his blouse back over his muscular shoulders, he tossed it down onto the foot of the bed. As she lay with her arms at her sides, her mammoth breasts were so large they draped down over her arms partially obscuring them from view.
Leaning down over her, he eased his hands under her legs and lifted them, pulling her toward him at the same time. Pulling her toward him, he continued until her perfect, round ass was resting on the edge of the bed with the oozing, pink gash between her legs poised just above it.
Gently, he lowered her legs until her dainty feet were resting on the stone floor. Now he was standing in between her legs as she lay half on and half off the bed. Then he slowly lowered himself down to his knees between her legs. Suddenly he found himself face to face with the weeping love wound at the pit of her mother’s softly rounded belly. It was just as beautiful as he remembered it being. Maybe even more beautiful now, because it was his. Its thick, meaty lips were wetly cleaving together, hiding the secrecy of the forbidden opening between them. And above the fleshy, dusky-pink lips, her clit jutted out hard and swollen. It was the biggest clit he had ever seen, and by its size and swollen condition, Atheling could see that despite his mother’s protestations, she must be feeling some element of arousal.
Reaching out, Atheling ran his fingers along the smooth softness of her quivering thighs, pushing on them, spreading them wider apart and opening her to him.
“Please . . . no . . .” he heard her softly plead as he leaned closer to her and eased his tongue out.
Then he slowly, teasingly ran his tongue over the jutting bulb of her clit as it jutted up out of its fleshy hood.
“Nooooo . . . ohhhhhhh,” he heard her murmur, the protest seeming to change into a murmured surrender.
Slowly, he began to flick his tongue back and forth across her vulnerable clit. Teasing and tormenting it, he saw her clawed hands dig down into the bed sheets as the muscles in her belly tensed and quivered. Was she fighting to come . . . or to keep from coming, he sickly wondered as he continued to attack her defenseless clit?
“No . . . No . . . No . . .” she whimpered out. But even as she protested, he felt her ever so gently begin to thrust herself against his hungry mouth.
As she lay quietly sobbing, Atheling could see that the big, purple nipples jutting up out of her breasts were painted with her milk. Reaching up over her straining belly, he wrapped one hand around one of the flattened giants and gave it a rough squeeze. As he did, a stream of milk shot up into the air, dropping back down and coating his hand and her breast with a splattering of warm, sticky milk.
The protests had ceased, replaced by soft, murmuring moans as the thrusting of her hips became more and more insistent. Raising his other hand up under his chin, he stuck out two fingers and slowly eased them up to her pussy. Fingering open her goo-covered pussy lips, he pushed his fingers up into the hot clutch of her cunt.
“Unnnnnnnn . . .” she groaned out, the muscles encircling her vagina collapsing down around his fingers, clutching at them and squeezing them.
Working his fingers in and out of her gooey cunt, Atheling could feel his mother growing more and more agitated. Her whole body was tensing, straining as she thrust herself back against his hand and mouth.
“No—no—no—” she groaned out, her head twisting from side to side, but he wouldn’t relent as he kept licking his tongue back and forth across her clit.
Sensing that she was teetering on the edge, he slowly lifted his mouth away from her clit. Smirking, he looked up over her heaving belly to her grimaced face.
“Would my Queen like to come?” he asked her, smirking at her through his juice-smeared lips. “Would she like to finish . . .”
“Yes—yes—please—please let me come,” she pleaded, thrusting her pussy up at him, lifting her beautiful ass up off the bed. “Please—please—touch it—touch it and lick it—make me come—”
“But, Mother, how could I let that happen,” he smirked again, slowly pushing up to his feet between her outstretched legs. “You know the King comes first . . . he must be pleased first before he could allow you to finish . . .””What—what my, King—what can I do for you . . . I’ll do anything you say,” she groveled out. “But please let me come . . .”
“I will take care of that, Mother,” he told her, reaching down and grasping hold of one of her long legs. Thrusting it up into the air, he rested its back against his belly and chest. Then he lifted her other leg up into the air. Her calves were resting against his shoulders and her dainty feet brushing against his temples as he reached down and wrapped his fist around his big, jutting penis.
Stepping closer, he aimed the tapered head of the jutting monster down at the weeping slit between her fat, gorged pussy lips.
“Does the queen want the king to fuck her?” he asked her, slowly rubbing the head of his dick up and down between her juice-slathered cunt lips.
“Yes—yes—” she hissed. “Yes, my king—fuck your queen.”
“Would Mother like her Son to fuck her?” he maliciously asked, fitting the tapered tip of his cock down into the oozing, weeping hole at the bottom of her pussy. “Would Mother like for her Son to fuck her with his big, hard cock?”
“Yes—please—put it in,” she murmured, her eyes tightly clenched together. “Put it in and fuck me with your big, hard cock . . .”
As she spoke, Atheling leaned forward and slowly eased his penis down into the hot, sucking clutch of her cunt.
“No—No—Yes—Yes—Oh, my King . . .” she groveled as he pushed it into her deeper and deeper.
It was everything he thought it would be and more, he giddily told himself, much more. He continued to slowly ease his cock down into her until it was buried all the way up to his big, dangling balls.
Her resisting had made it that much more depraved and exciting. And now her sudden capitulation was the icing on the cake.
“An heir . . . an heir . . . you must give me an heir,” he told her, holding his cock thrust down into the hot muck of her cunt as he ground himself against her.
“No . . . No . . . no, my Lord . . . not that,” she exclaimed. “No, not a child!”
“Yes—yes—a child—my heir—” he grunted, jerking his penis back and then slamming it back into her as hard as he could. “Take my seed and make me an heir down inside your womb . . .”
The time for talk was over, he feverishly thought as he began to fuck her with deep, teeth-rattling strokes. He had waited twenty years for this moment and he was going to savor every last second of it. Fucking her at a furious pace, he leaned down, pressing her legs back down until her knees were almost touching her shoulders. Leaning down through her thighs, he found one of her big, swollen nipples with his lips.
As he began to suck and pluck at her big, puffy nipple she wrapped her hand around her breast and began to squeeze and clutch at it. A stream of thick, rich milk squirted out of the nipple, coating his tongue as he savored it sweetness. Keeping his hips rocking back and forth, he continued to saw his big cock in and out of the clutching tightness of her cunt. As he mercilessly fucked her, the backs of her thighs were rubbing against his sweaty chest, her calves bouncing up and down on his shoulders as her feet waved in the air above his head.
Picking up the pace one more notch, he lifted his mouth up off her breast. But she kept squeezing and kneading her giant breast making more warm milk squirt out of it and splatter all over his face. Humping his big cock in and out of her at a furious pace, he watched the stream of milky white squirt out of the big, purple nipples and shoot up into the air. Her breasts, her thighs, her belly, her face and his face were covered with warm, sticky droplets of her milk as he continued to pump away at her hungry cunt. Fucking her was the end of his life long quest for the Holy Grail, but the fucking and the milk made it all so much more exhilarating. Watching her milk herself, spraying him with her precious nectar made it al that much more decadent and perverted. It was as if she were trying to resist and withhold herself from him while at the same time giving in to the passion of the moment.
Then, suddenly, her arms flew out to the side as she dug her clawed fingers down into the bed sheets. A loud, straining groan escaped her lips as she arched her back and thrust herself up against the pounding attack on her pussy.
Seeing that she was coming, Atheling shoved his big cock down into the clutching, spasming depths of her cunt to let her ride out the storm on it.
Her huge tits, drug down by their weight, rubbed against the bed, their big, puffy nipples pointing out to the side as they suddenly began to squirt out streams of pure, white milk. Spurting out to the side, the streams splashed down on her arms and hands, spotting them with a cloud of white droplets.
Atheling could feel her quivering thighs pattering against his sweaty chest as her stiffened legs pointed straight up into the air. Her dainty feet were arched, curling her toes and pointing them at the ceiling as she groveled through her orgasm. With her head thrown back, eyes clenched shut, her whole body was quivering and shaking as she fought on, coming and coming and coming. Atheling could feel her hot juices leaking out around his embedded cock, dripping down to his dangling balls and coating them with its sticky heat.
It seemed like it would never end for her as she continued to whimper and groan her way through it. At last, the trembling stopped, her muscles softening and relaxing. Her eyelids slowly opened and she looked up at him with a dazed, groggy look on her face.
Her big tits were still leaking out milk, but it was no longer squirting out in streams. It was now slowly oozing out of the big, purple nipples, trickling down the rounded swell of her breast to the bed below. There were two large damp spots under her breasts where the milk was being soaked up by the bed sheets.
Such a waste, he complained to himself as he began to slowly work his big cock in and out of her juice-slathered cunt. Her eyes fluttered shut again and a tiny frown creased her forehead as he fucked her with deep, penetrating strokes. Then he felt her begin to thrust herself back at his pounding attack. The frown grew deeper and he felt her fingers on his hips, clutching at him, guiding him, pushing and pulling, urging him to fuck her harder.
His ass was rocking back and forth like a runaway pendulum moving faster and faster. As it did, his big, juice-smeared cock sloshed in and out of his mother’s hot, clutching cunt churning its juice into a frothy foam that covered his flopping balls and her upturned ass. He could feel the burn down inside his balls growing hotter as they slapped up against his mother’s ass. Finally, he frantically told himself. Finally, after all the years of unrequited frustration, he was going fill the forbidden chalice with his potent cream. Fill it and plant his seed down inside her fertile womb. He would give her a child. A child to replace the child he had taken from her. Their child. His heir!
“My Queen! My Queen!” he gasped as he felt the explosion of pleasure rip through his cock. As it did, his penis lurched down inside her clutching pussy and spewed out a massive gush of thick, potent cum.
“My King! My King!” his mother groaned out, clutching her cunt down around his erupting penis, sucking on it, pulling on it, milking out its venomous load of sperm-filled semen.
He was coming, he feverishly thought. Coming down inside the warm, wet core of her womanhood. Coming and filling her with his fiery essence. As he did, she ground herself back against him, taking him inside her as deep as she could.
Wallowing in the perverse degeneracy of their incestuous communion, Atheling held his spewing, spurting cock thrust down into her cum-filled chalice until if finally stopped firing off.
Slowly backing his cum-coated peter out of the widely stretched opening of her vagina. Atheling looked down to see a long, ropy strand of cum leak out of her pussy and drip down onto the stone floor. Mesmerized by the sheer obscenity of it all, he watched as more and more of the gooey, white goop ran out of her. There was already a thick, goopy puddle of the stuff between his feet as he saw the stream slowly diminish to one long, thin string of cum stretching from her pussy down to the floor.
Stepping back another step, he slowly let her legs down, easing her dainty feet down onto the floor.
Reaching down, he grasped her hands and gently pulled her to a sitting position on the edge of the bed.
He couldn’t decipher the look she gave him, but it seemed to be something between anger and despair.
“Are you through with me, my Lord,” she asked him, slowly rising to her feet as he shuffled over to where her dress lay on the floor. “Or do you wish to use me again?”
“Yes, I wish to use you again,” he retorted, angered by her rebuff as he swept her dress up off the floor and tossed it at her. “But not now . . . come back at mid-afternoon . . . and bring more milk for I will wish to quench my thirst with it once again.”
“Yes, my Lord,” she quietly mumbled, slowly slipping her dress back on.
Then Atheling reached down and picked up her red, satin pantaloons. Lifting them up to face, he buried his nose in their stained their crotch and took a deep sniff.
“I will keep these as my trophy,” he smirked at her, tossing them onto the table. “A trophy to remind me of the great conquest I made today . . .”
“Yes, my Lord,” she murmured, slowly buttoning her dress as Atheling filled his goblet with more wine.
Finally her dress was buttoned and she slowly walked toward the door, her long dress swishing from side to side as the hem drug on the floor.
“I shall return, my Lord. Just as you have ordered me to,” she said, standing at the door with her hand poised on the heavy iron latch. “And I will bring more milk . . . milk to quench the king’s thirst . . .”