The Warlord's Concubine

by Keep, J. E.

  “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.

  Chapter 6

  The next day, Mirella was informed the princess refused to see her by one of the guard-concubines who was beginning to show sign of pregnancy, her tummy having swollen just slightly. It was a crushing thing, so much depended on pleasing her new King, and the Princess’s tantrum could go on and on, as she very well knew.

  Worse yet, he hadn’t sent for her that night. The women of the concubine’s tent were antsy; they seemed to sense something was going on as the guard informed the servant. “His majesty is on his way here, I’m told. Be ready,” it was more of a general remark, to all the women, however, rather than being reserved simply for her.

  She was always ready. Though her rage still bubbled, she knew this could be a good thing. To have the Princess isolated, for him to be her only point of contact could work favourably, and she was filled with confidence in her new plan, or so she had thought until the announcement came. She didn’t expect him to pick her, not really. The punishment was grave, but so was her disappointment, yet still she stood ready.

  She had become far more comfortable with her body and had taken on a general state of semi-undress. There were skimpy outfits, free for the taking, and though she had worn her robe earlier when refused by the Princess, here in the concubine tent, she had no such shame. Most of her body was visible, the top barely holding her ample breasts, and the skirt hardly hiding anything as it went on an angle down her thigh. She pulled her long, black hair off her chest to leave it looking more vulnerable to his eyes and held her breath.

  The women who persisted now were more of the type who feared and gave in to him, mixed with fewer of the new ones. They still cowered and looked bewildered by it all, their pale Aristean features contorted in alarm.

  When he entered all of them looked away however. All but her. For that she was rewarded by a twinkle of interest in his gaze as he saw her, dressed not in her servant’s robes, but as a true concubine and pleasure slave. The light material of her outfit barely covered her at all.

  The worry of the night melted away as he came to her out of them all. “You look much better like this,” he remarked in his heavy tone, the compliment so sweet coming from the ruler of everything from the Aristean Mountains on northwards. His hand reaching out and helping itself to touch her stomach, squeeze a breast, all openly and without reservation.

  She had the same lack of concern as him. They were nothing to her, less than nothing. Not even her equals. They were nothing but walking wombs to her, and she nearly lost her breath as she moved in against him so readily. She only hesitated for a moment, wondering who among the traitors to the god might tell his Princess. Mirella leaned up, whispering her concerns only to him, “None who see us should be allowed to speak with the little one.”

  Her caution made him smile, and it was such a sight to see. It wasn’t the fake little thing he gave for the princess not long ago, this was genuine. And it was for her.

  Leaning down he murmured to her in his husky voice, “Too right.” It was nothing, just two words, but something about how the dark God-King bent and said them to her and her alone amidst a sea of stunning women made her feel so special and unique.

  With his free hand he undid his cloak and let it fall to the floor, his gaze sweeping about the room, taking in all the other women. “Since the princess is gone,” all measure of quiet conspiracy gone from his voice, “it is due time I took a moment to visit with my harem.”

  Topless and stunning, the large man strode over the cushions, his hand leaving Mirella’s breast but moving to her shoulder, guiding her along with him so that she was at his side. It was his guard-concubine, the pregnant one again, that spoke up. “It is a privilege and honour to bear the God-King’s children. His seed must spread far and wide,” she intoned it as if it were some litany of prayer.

  Mirella’s breathing quickened, and he could see dark delight begin to spread on her face as she moved with him. She didn’t care much for the sterile manner the woman praised her god, but it was a far sight better than the cowering, weak willed and useless women of the city, so her smile broadened. “Too right you are,” she said with awe and respect. “I can only hope I will prove as useful to him,” she moved her hands down over his body brazenly, and her voice rose, “We are being offered something so few ever receive. It’s no time for fright or uselessness. Instead, take time to pay your respects to one so far superior to us all!”

  A rousing speech, for her first time, she thought as her hands worked down over his abs and thighs.

  Her obedient praising, her fawning touches, it seemed to earn her a low, growling groan of approval from the giant man, dressed only in his black leather breeches and boots. Stopping near the center of the chamber, his powerful arm around Mirella, he studied the new women a moment before looking to the pregnant guard-concubine. “You’ve done well. However I think for this time I shall let the privilege fall to the new one,” and his hand slid down Mirella’s back to squeeze one of her sumptuous ass cheeks, indicating his favour.

  The guard-concubine retreated, not daring to show any annoyance at being passed over as she slid away to the entrance. Mirella was now the favoured one, and the God-King looked down to her, “Pick the first one. It’s your duty to help spread my seed to the far corners this day, Mirella.” He blessed her with that familiar use of her name, his groping hand still palming her ass cheek.

  Her smile was mostly hidden beneath her pensive gaze as she sought for someone pleasing. They all looked so pitiful and cowering and frightened to her, none of them filled with the admiration and respect they should have, not even after her rousing speech. Her eyes fell to the one that wished the greatest not to be seen, however.

  A small woman, she was young and ripe, with her nearly white hair and her peach coloured flesh. Mirella almost felt as if she wanted to taste her then and there, and her lips touched to her god’s lips as she whispered to him, “Do you prefer them ready for you, Your Greatness?”

  Helping her stand up to whisper to him by pushing up on her round backside, he murmured back to her with a slightly wry smile. “If they aren’t ready, then it falls to you to either make them ready, or slicken me with mouth or quim to compensate, pet.”

  He uttered those words so darkly, but the twinkle in his eyes showed great amusement at her question, her eagerness to please. With a hard squeeze and a slap of her olive toned ass he said, “I trust you shall choose right.”

  She wanted to do both, and for a moment she seemed so torn before she slipped away from him, reluctantly, and walked to the other woman. She was sat upon some of the pillows and startled as Mirella arrived, but that kind, genuine smile on the olive skinned woman’s face was so reassuring. The peach skinned beauty had trouble speaking but stammered out, “Don’t let him hurt me.”

  Mirella nodded, her hand presumptively going to the other woman’s arm, “He won’t. He just wants to watch us enjoy each other,” she lied so easily. It didn’t even matter that he’d just been speaking about concubines a
nd that she’d given an impassioned plea for everyone to let him fuck them. Now it was all sugar, and her hand ran down the slender woman’s body, “You’re very pretty. So slim and perky,” she said, and the way she was knelt before her, the skirt fell away to the side, exposing her large rear to the god behind her.

  He watched with rapt attention, his eyes lidded as the former handmaiden worked her ways upon the pretty young woman. Her choice seemed to please him, despite the nervous Aristean’s diminutive size, so similar to that of the princess with her dainty figure.

  Where she stoked the fires of the reluctant woman, he pulled off one boot, then the other, slowly removing what little clothes he had left on.

  Her actions were so slow and calculating as the woman shivered beneath her touch, and Mirella gently guided her face with her finger so that they stared at one another.

  “Tell me, my sweet. What is your name?” Mirella breathed.

  “R-Rachel,” she managed back, her stutter pronounced as Mirella smiled brightly.

  “That’s a beautiful name for an absolutely beautiful woman,” she said before her lips grazed the other woman’s, the action so slight and delicate it seemed completely contrary to the hard, desperate desire she’d shown for her god. “I’m going to kiss you,” she punctuated the word with another peck to that peach skin, “and he’s going to watch, and it will all be okay. Have you a lover, Rachel?”

  “N-no!” she gasped squirming away, but Mirella stopped her with a firm hand to her slender thigh.

  “Just relax,” she cooed, her green eyes working lustily over the woman’s body. Already her own arousal was growing, despite her usual disinterest in women. She didn’t get along well with them; they all reminded her too much of the Princess. Full of themselves and with such an ego. They were all so much better than the lowly handmaiden, but here she had the upper hand.

  Even as she teased and toyed with the pretty young woman, she could hear the familiar groan of leather as her new and only King shed his pants; the peel of that dark material from his thick muscles as he freed himself of all his clothing. He stood there in pure male glory with his thick cock so prominent and large.

  Rachel trembled; she wore very little, though it was obvious from her nervousness that it wasn’t by her own choice. The slinky outfit consisted of but three triangles of transparent white cloth over her two breasts and slit, and did nothing to hide the colour of her sex beneath. The cloth was rimmed in silver that came to chains which bound it together about her waist, ass and back. It seemed to be a style that pleased the God-King, for it was given in abundance in many different styles to the concubines.

  She had rejected it for that reason. She had no interest in dressing like the others, and as her skirt fell way to show her pantiless behind, her sex visible as she bowed before the other woman, she could only hope he enjoyed it even better. As her hands trailed down Rachel’s body, the thumbs grazed the lines of her panties, warming her to her touch so gently.

  “This will feel good,” she promised. She had become an expert at strumming her own body to new heights after being with so many inept men in the past. She only hoped that this woman would be responsive as her head dipped, her nose running along her slit as she inhaled deeply.

  Rachel cried out in alarm and tried to shift back once more, but those hands on her thighs tightened. “Would you hold her still, Your Greatness?” she asked, the hot breath flooding over the woman’s sex.

  There was a gasp and a murmur from the entrance to the tent, and she knew then that the guard-concubines found her presumption at asking their deity for help an affront. Despite that however, the powerful man was there, upon one knee as he pinned Rachel down with immense ease. She could barely squirm beneath his strong grasp as those charcoal hands pinned her shoulders and arms.

  The smell of that giant man, his musk of arousal so near, was intoxicating, and she thought she could even detect a shiver of lust pass through the blonde woman as well.

  She nuzzled that woman’s sex, trying to ignore the object of her interests so near to her, and her eyes focused instead on that young woman. She was probably over a decade younger than herself, just around the marrying age, and even though Mirella hated her for her youth, she loved the scent of her clean pussy.

  Slowly she peeled away the transparent fabric, and that first touch of hot tongue against her hotter sex was sublime. The taste was beyond compare, and Mirella moaned quite genuinely into the woman’s cunny.

  The shuddering mewl that came from the young woman betrayed her enjoyment. Despite being pinned beneath the grasp of the obsidian warlord, and having cunnilingus forced upon her, she quaked and quivered.

  Before long the woman's moans grew pleasured and her body lost its tenseness, enough so that her lord took one hand off Rachel and brought it to her own black hair, stroking along it in tender approval.

  She didn’t want to stop. She didn’t want to do anything but bring this woman to the pleasured brink, and even as her jaw ached and her mouth began to go numb, her tongue whipped across her clit with more enthusiasm. Her own breathing was coming on hard and fast, especially under the touch of her god, and his being there made it all the better.

  Sharing the woman with him, bringing her to such heights as she was pinned between his hard cock and her beautiful mouth was just exquisite. She had never anticipated that she would enjoy something so tawdry as this, but she knew then that she would gladly do this and far more for just the smallest amount of approval from him.

  It was almost disappointing to feel him nudge her out of the way, ending her delving into that young, pink pussy. But when she saw the swell of that unearthly cock, its veins so prominent and dark, and the look of longing lust on his face that would brook no further delay, she saw it for what it was. It was reward for having done her duty so very well.

  With one dark hand on the pale woman’s shoulder, he pinned her to the cushions as he slid over top of her. That heavy shaft of his bobbed upwards, and he hesitated for just a moment. Enough to let her realize her duty and so she reached in, lifting its large heft and guiding him in towards that damp flower. She let it kiss his dark crown so lovingly before he began to push down into that virginal slit.

  Mirella licked around her mouth and still tasted the other woman’s sex so strong on her lips. She wanted to see, and even that jealousy could do little to hinder her enjoyment of this. Instead, she wormed her way up along Rachel’s side and watched the fear and desire mark her face.

  “It will hurt, but it will be delightful,” she promised. Her hand worked down between the two, pressing roughly against that aching, pulsing nub between her nether lips. She worked it expertly and caused the younger woman to gasp and moan, her legs parting wider for that unearthly cock.

  With a depth of approval she had not expected, her king leaned in and kissed at her lips, pushing his tongue into Mirella’s mouth. The embrace of mouths went on long until his shredding of Rachel’s innocence on the head of his cock brought the young woman to a shriek, and he broke it to look at the pale young woman, not ceasing his dive as he plumbed the depths of that virginally tight quim, bottoming out within her and immediately beginning to pump pitilessly.

  She was breathless, and the shared taste of the woman between them was something so primal to her. Fingers working faster between those saliva and honey soaked lips; she moved to silence Rachel’s cries, but only for a second. She just wanted enough to share that sensation with her as well before moving onto her neck, sucking her tender, peach flesh almost brutally as her god fucked the other woman ruthlessly.

  The slap of his dark sac against Rachel’s pale ass grew, his husky grunts and groans creating a stir in the air as he pumped himself faster, harder. As Mirella worked the young woman to a frenzy she saw the throbs in his thick cock widen that torn slit, the labia stretched in a completely vulgar display.

  With the tightness of that quim and his ruthless pace, it wasn’t long before she saw as her lord and master worked himself
to his release. With his handsome face contorted, brows knitted, he groaned loudly as he buried himself into the young woman and emptied his loins of all their virile cum, utterly filling that poor girl with his seed.

  Jealousy once more edged into her mind, and she became so aware of that painful throbbing between her own legs. She’d never wanted someone so bad, to ever devote herself to one person’s pleasure so selflessly that she’d deny herself, but she knew it was good. It was what he wanted, and even though she hated the idea of Rachel or the other concubines spawning his child, her hand worked its way up to the woman’s stomach, rubbing it gently.

  “You are so lucky,” she breathed out with such wanting.

  Rising up from Rachel’s pale, quivering form, he slid out of her reddened slit then grabbed for Mirella. The action was so fast, so abrupt, he seemed angry. Those strong arms took hold of her, and he pushed her away from the young woman, moving with her so that she and her God-King rolled down a pile of cushions together.

  When they came to a halt he had his arms about her, their bodies pressed and he was forcing such a passionate kiss onto her. What had seemed like violent rage at first became clear to them all as some depraved act of lust or affection. With his slick, stiff cock jammed against Mirella, he ground against her and kissed her so deep, so passionately.

  She was at a loss and that haze of lust overwhelmed her. Arms flung around his neck, she met each one of the presses of his hips with her own. She was so wet that she felt it down her inner thighs, unhampered by panties, and the skirt had easily fallen away, revealing her lower half to the room full of half-naked women. She didn’t care about them, though, nor the tiny mewls of pain from Rachel at her side.

  Instead it was just him, just her, grinding and kissing in the quickly warming tent.